"But—"
Above the crouching, panting Jack's head, a row of familiar golden ripples bloomed once again.
"This stage belongs to me alone—no filthy rat may run wild!"
"Die, mongrel."
From the ripples, treasures poured down like rain.
The ground shrieked under the barrage, smoke and dust rising skyward. Yet when it cleared, Assassin was gone.
"Tch. A rat is a rat—quick to scurry away."
Gilgamesh clicked his tongue, feeling the lack of impact. The real Jack the Ripper, never caught by Scotland Yard, had always slipped away, no matter how tight the cordon. Weak in open battle, perhaps, but unmatched at retreat—Jack was first-class at escape.
Still, the outcome left Gilgamesh displeased.
"To spurn the gift of death from this King, to cling to life instead… what a tiresome creature."
"If it displeases you so, King… perhaps it's time to withdraw."
As if waiting for the cue, the words were followed by a refined, magnetic voice at his ear—
His Master, Tokiomi Tohsaka.
Head of the Tohsaka family, one of the Three Families, custodian of Fuyuki's leylines. Tokiomi had prepared meticulously for this War: forging ties with the Church, drawing Kotomine Kirei into his fold, paying dearly to obtain the Snake's Shed Skin, summoning Gilgamesh—the strongest Heroic Spirit.
Regardless, as the saying goes: A powerful card carries risk. For Masters, the same applied.
Gilgamesh's might was beyond question. His flaws, equally so.
This most ancient Hero King's temperament was wretched. To reveal himself at Iskandar's simplest provocation, to flaunt his treasury at whim—in defiance of his Master's counsel—Tokiomi's expression had remained dark.
No matter how strong Gilgamesh, even he would falter against four or five Servants at once. All the more in this War of fourteen.
Tokiomi had built his strategy on patience and precision to seize victory with elegance. Gilgamesh's recklessness, dueling the Sun King outright, threatened to ruin it all.
"Tokiomi, are you ordering your King?"
"I would not dare…"
He said one thing, but his hand glowed faint red.
'To waste a Command Spell on such a trifle…'
'Tokiomi, you cur!'
Gilgamesh seethed, yet the binding force of the Command Spell was absolute.
"What a tedious man!"
"…Fine. Let these mongrels fight until one proves the strongest. Then this King shall descend upon you."
Leaving behind words befitting a final boss, Gilgamesh's form dissolved into golden light, vanishing from the field.
Watching him depart, Ramesses II raised his head, listening as if to some unheard voice, then narrowed his eyes.
"So be it. I'll grant your request this once."
"Ahahaha! I'll await you all in my palace. Any with courage, come and challenge me!"
With arrogant laughter, the Sun King too vanished into the night sky, his dazzling barque fading with him. Quiet returned, the tension eased.
Auram glanced around. Tomoe Gozen and Berserker had slipped away as well.
'You two sure know how to leave sneakily.'
"Hahaha! What a night! Let us await our next meeting, my friends!"
"You fool, we're leaving now!"
Iskandar was as noisy as ever. If not for Waver shoving him with all his strength, Auram suspected he would've stayed to chat.
The Conqueror King cracked his whip, and the chariot thundered off. The battlefield calmed, leaving only Artoria, Irisviel, and Auram.
"Well, since everyone's gone, I'll be off too."
Back to our homes, back to our lives.
Auram wasn't surprised this harbor melee ended this way.
Time to hurry home to Ayaka. He had much to confirm with her.
"Um…"
Suddenly, just as he turned, Irisviel called softly.
She reached toward him, cheeks flushed, lips trembling—wanting to speak, unsure how.
The air was awkward.
"If it's thanks you wish to give, don't bother." Auram preempted her words. "Think of it as a kind knight passing by."
"But…"
Before she could continue, Auram waved and leapt away, vanishing into the night.
"Knight…"
Watching his back, Irisviel felt a stirring within her chest that she could not settle. She touched her breast lightly, standing lost in thought before finally leaving with Lancer.
...
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