The cool liquor slid down her throat, like a gentle hand softly smoothing over the numerous scars left by war and betrayal deep within Saber's soul.
There was no heavy crown, no bloody battlefield.
Only the tranquility of the knight maiden sleeping peacefully on the grass under the quiet starlight.
When Saber opened her eyes again, a charming flush had risen to her cheeks, and her expression had become more serene and soft than ever before.
"This wine... possesses a magic that makes one forget all troubles."
Saber sighed softly, a trace of reluctance in her voice: "This is the best consolation for a warrior."
"Thank you, Ruler."
Looking at the reactions of the other two, Gilgamesh's face was already as black as the bottom of a pot.
If this was acting, it was far too realistic.
Moreover, that mysterious fragrance wafting directly from the wine glass into his nostrils was frantically teasing his taste buds.
That was the aura of a top-tier treasure, the ultimate temptation for a collector.
His hand was trembling.
Reason told him he should smash the cup and turn to leave.
But his body's instinct drove him to reach out his hand.
"Hmph... Since you've praised it to the heavens..."
Gilgamesh gritted his teeth, finding an extremely awkward excuse for himself, "As the King of Heroes, I have the duty to appreciate all the treasures in the world."
"I want to see just what quality this so-called 'Starry Sky' actually is."
He grabbed the wine cup and stiffly took a tiny sip.
Boom—!
It was as if a Big Bang had instantaneously erupted in his mouth.
That pure and noble flavor instantly demolished all of his psychological defenses.
If his wine was the pinnacle of human brewing craftsmanship and the ultimate of mundane substance,
Then this cup of wine was the manifestation and sublimation of rules and concepts.
The two were simply not in the same dimension.
It was like comparing a piece of beautifully crafted mud to the brilliance of a star.
Gilgamesh's Adam's apple bobbed; he wanted to spit the wine out, wanted to mock it loudly as being nothing special.
But he couldn't do it.
Every cell in his body was cheering, his soul was trembling; it was an instinctive submission when facing a higher-level existence.
The liquid seemed to transform into the purest source of magical energy, nourishing his saint graph and making him feel an unprecedented comfort.
*Gulp...*
His body was extremely honest.
Gilgamesh's hand rose uncontrollably, draining the remaining liquid in the cup in one gulp.
When he set down the glass, his expression was unsightly to the extreme.
Not because it tasted bad.
But because it tasted too good.
So good that it made him realize that from now on, all the fine wines in his treasury would become dull and tasteless.
Hansen watched him quietly, swirling the empty glass in his hand, that smile on his lips making Gilgamesh wish he could tear it apart.
"How is it?"
Hansen looked at this overbearing King of Heroes with a half-smile and asked softly: "Is this what you called... the taste of a mongrel?"
Gilgamesh gripped the Aurora Wine Cup tightly, his knuckles turning white from the excessive force, even letting out a "crack crack" sound.
The golden ripples behind him flickered unsteadily, showing the extreme turmoil in their owner's heart.
He remained silent for a long time.
Until the night wind blew past, carrying away the lingering scent of stars in the air.
Only then did Gilgamesh squeeze out a sentence through his teeth with great difficulty; though his voice was full of resentment, he had to bow to reality:
"...I'll admit... you have some skill."
Stubbornness was the King of Streetlights' final dignity.
In the courtyard air, that soul-shaking fragrance of the Starry Sky wine still lingered.
Gilgamesh had a dark expression, his fingers tightly clutching the long-empty Aurora Wine Cup as if it were the greatest shame of his life, yet he couldn't bring himself to crush it.
His crimson snake-like pupils occasionally swept over Hansen, a hint of an aftertaste he was unwilling to admit hidden deep in his eyes.
Rider, Iskandar, smacked his lips without any regard for his image, several drops of crystal-clear liquid still hanging from his large beard, looking unsatisfied.
"Good wine is good wine, but it's all finished."
Rider set down his cup and crossed his thick legs. His bright, tiger-like eyes scanned everyone before finally landing on that petite blue-and-silver figure.
The atmosphere gradually settled from the shock of the miracle just now, turning solemn and sharp.
"Since the wine has been drunk, it's time to get to the main point." Rider's voice was low and thick, carrying the pressure of a conqueror. "Since we are fighting for the same miracle, we need to clarify one thing—who is qualified to control the Holy Grail?"
He looked directly at Saber, his gaze like a torch: "Saber, King of Knights, declare your wish—what do you want the Holy Grail for?"
Saber took a deep breath.
Though the aftertaste of the wine remained, she now had to face the scrutiny of her peers.
She straightened her back, just as she did every time she gripped Excalibur on the battlefield, her expression becoming solemn and stern.
"I want to save my homeland."
Saber's voice was clear and firm, her emerald eyes shining brightly under the moonlight. "I want to use the omnipotent wish-granting machine to change the fate of Britain's destruction."
As these words fell, the courtyard, which had still had some slight wind sounds, instantly fell into a deathly silence.
There was no applause, no agreement.
Even the air seemed to have frozen.
Hansen sat there, toying with the ruby in his hand, a lazy yet indifferent smile on his lips, as if he had long expected this answer.
As for the other two kings, their reactions were completely different.
The smile on Rider's face vanished bit by bit, replaced by an inexpressible shock and seriousness.
"Pfft—Ha!"
An unmasked sneer broke the silence.
Gilgamesh leaned his cheek on one hand, looking at Saber with a playful face as if he had heard the funniest joke in the world: "Save your homeland? Change fate? Have you not woken up yet, King of Knights?"
Rider ignored Gilgamesh's mockery. He frowned, his rugged face filled with confusion: "King of Knights, do you know what you are saying? You want to negate the history you created yourself?"
"Yes."
Saber did not back down because of their attitudes.
On the contrary, pain and determination were interwoven in her eyes; that was the oath she had made alone on that hill of corpses and blood.
"I was incompetent, I did not understand the hearts of people... I am not worthy of being King." Saber clenched her fists, her nails digging deep into her palms. "If I could do it all over again, if someone wiser and more perfect had pulled out the Sword in the Stone, Britain would surely have reached a different end."
"I want to start over! To choose a king who can bring happiness to the people!"
"Ha! Utterly foolish!"
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