Here we go,chapter 7, sorry for the extremely long wait. Exams are seriously messing up my time-table. :blue:
Sidenote: well, we're coming closer to the conclusion, for all those who are interested, this story will find it's end most likely in the next 2 chapters, 3 if I think it's necessary.
SideSidenote: This is the LONGEST chapter up till now, woohoo
Well, here it is, enjoy, people.
Miracle 7
They do not look impressive.
Three servant-less masters and a lone servant.
They do not look impressive at all.
Still, they have a plan and are ready to carry it out.
Guts stops without warning, even though they are not that far away from the church now. His face morphs once more into that disturbing grin of his. Looks like someone is waiting for us.
Rin stiffens. If someone is watching them from this distance she knows who it must be. Archer. Her voice is an odd mix of anger and shame when she breathes out the name of her former servant. Betrayal always hurts the most after all.
He can see him, that white-haired servant. He can see his hawk-like gaze, see the bow in his hands and the words that leave Archers lips. Assassin rests the sword on his shoulder and smiles. The message is clear, there is no mistaking his intention.
So....you won't let me make another step, won't you? Let's see about that, bastard.
Turning around he motions for them to go on.
Looks like this is going to be fun. He really is itching for a fight now. Those guys, Lancer, Berserker and now Archer, he really can't help it, he wants to fight against more warriors like that.
That guy.... Rin's voice is hesitant, her eyes betray her discomfort with whatever she wants to talk about. He can guess what she wants though.
I'll leave him alive so you can kick him when you get back....that what you want?
His answer is a grateful nod and a mumbled thanks, kind of cute he notes, now that he thinks about it, but he has something else to take care of now. Facing his far away enemy once more he takes a single step forward, swinging his sword the moment his foot leaves the ground.
A low whistle is the only warning they have before Archer's arrow hits the Dragonslayer, bathing the whole area in a red hue.
Another step
Again arrow and sword clash.
This time Guts does not turn around when he speaks.
Well, get going, I'll take care of that guy.
A cute voice interrupts, her angry tone speaks volumes.
Don't you dare and die against Archer, do you hear me Assassin?
Another arrow hits. For a moment the explosion drowns out their voices as the three magi run to the church, still even then the young girl hears his voice.
Yeah yeah, I'll just keep on swinging that sword around like the idiot I am, happy now princess?
Without a doubt he knows that she couldn't have heard him but....for a moment he thinks he can see her smile and nod.
It has been a while since someone has been waiting for him to return....it's a nice feeling. Nearly as nice as squashing his enemies like flies.
Nearly
Smirking he slashes at another arrow, the shockwave numbs his arm for a moment, telling him that he needs to adjust his grip. Then a moment of peace as another arrow is prepared.
Guts starts to sprint. He hates long-range fighting. Of course....his Dragonslayer might count as long-range, being as tall as some people he knew and taller than some of the people he had protected.
Still the next attack does not come, another moment goes by....
The moment he sees them, he raises his sword up, five arrows, all coming at him at the same time. A perfectly timed attack, speed, precision and power are beyond anything a normal person could ever hope to achieve.
His single eye shines with a light of its own as the arrows close in on him. His arm starts to blur and the massive blade in his hand disappears from sight, Lancer was not the only one capable of a strong defence. This time the explosion swallows the still running servant for a moment, singing his clothes and hair as he runs through it.
He won't stop now.
But Archer continues to shoot at him, letting him push onwards just like that and giving no indication that he cares about the three magi sneaking about at all. This has the smelling of a trap all over it, but traps can be reversed and used on their masters.
Another shot.
And another
Again and again he strikes the arrows down before he finally reaches the still smug-looking Archer. The white-haired servant releases his bow and two swords appear in his hands. The same swords he used last time. Does he want to fight in close-combat again?
Then....DODGE
Reacting on instinct, both, Archer and Guts, evade the swords that now pierce the ground where they had stood mere moments before. The source of the swords is hidden behind a tree for a moment, before the servant comes forward.
Slowly Gilgamesh's golden-clad figure walks up to them, clapping slowly, mocking them with both his actions and his words.
Well, well, what do we have here? A faker and a thief fighting each other, how absolutely fitting, filth should take care of filth after all.
Guts tightens the grip on his swords in anticipation. This guy is a servant, no doubt about that, how that works he has no idea, he thought there was some kind of limit for servants, but it doesn't matter now. If that guy is a servant that means it's time to kill someone.
He's all for that.
Archer jumps back, a tactical retreat for now. Letting Gilgamesh deal with Assassin would make it a lot easier for him after all.
Setting his eyes on Guts, the king of kings snorts disdainful.
You have something that belongs to me thief, won't you return it to me before I take your life as punishment for your theft?
Guts eyebrow rises slowly. His grin becomes mocking. This kind of guy, clad in gold, arrogant to a fault, that's the kind of guy he hates the most.
Did you say something? Can't hear shit, with the whole size difference, so why don't you say that again midget?
Hmm, the mongrel thinks to insult me....how deeply pathetic, filth like you should at least know its place.
Guts only smirks. Frightening....as always. The Dragonslayer rests easily in his hand, it is even lighter than before. Maybe he's going crazy but...no, without a doubt, this sword wants to kill that golden bastard. It wants to tear him open like a piece of fresh meat and make him bleed, spill that divine blood all over the floor. That's good he muses. He wants to kill him too.
Without waiting for another barb he charges at Gilgamesh.
His answer is a hail of blades. They are faster than an arrow, faster than one would think it is possible for a sword to fly. Those swords are noble phantasm, ever single on of them.
The finest of blades ever created.
They tear, they shatter, they break. What they face is no ordinary sword. It is too big, too rough and too cumbersome to be called a sword. It is a big lump of iron. Forged in Hate.
Baptized in blood. Cursed by god.
This sword called Dragonslayer, can not be broken by just the finest of blades.
A strange blade for a mongrel, but a blade like that without a history behind it can not touch me.
History, Man, weird guys like you really creep me out. If you want a history that badly, I'll carve it into you with this sword.
Hmmm, carve into me, such impudence, a lowlife like you will not be able to hit me even once.
Ten steps
That's all the distance between them. Ten little steps. Ten steps opposed by a hundred swords.
Red light fills the battlefield.
Gilgamesh reacts immediately the moment he turns around and sees Archer's arrow aimed at his heart. This attack, a direct hit would prove fatal, but the treasures of the king of kings are many and all of them have a purpose in the end.
Before the arrow can hit a flower blooms. Blue petals, like a shield they arise between the deadly arrow and his target, 4 of them, beautiful and strong, the perfect defence against an attack like this.
The shield that would one day create the legend of Rho Aias.
It is not enough.
They force behind Archer's attack is too great. The original it may be....but it lacks the strength of its successor.
Petal after petal shatters, like flowers in the wind.
The explosion envelopes both of them, Gilgamesh and Guts. When the harsh light subsides, the king of heroes is still standing, but his armour is blackened and his hair slightly singed.
His glare is fierce as he stares at Archer's smug face. The red-clad servant opens his mouth but Gilgamesh can not hear him.
All he hears is the sound of air being cut behind him as the Dragonslayer descends, all he sees when he twists his head is the terrifying grin Guts wears as he comes into range.
And with a terrible sound the sword cuts off his left arm, slicing through steel, flesh and bone.
Shock
Blood flows
Rage
Pain grows
HATE
Gilgamesh's face twists, with a snarl on his lips he snaps the fingers on his remaining right hand.
Enkidu heeds its master's call.
Before the black swordsman can even raise his sword from the first strike he is bound by the chain of heaven. To bind those of divine blood, that is Enkidu's purpose. Someone like Guts should not be stopped by it. But blood can not be denied.
Not by those born in it, nor by those stained with it.
With a sickening crunch Enkidu encircles him even tighter, the level of divine blood on him is enormous. His armour has become a death trap. Yet, even when the chain binds him harder and harder, the Dragonslayer will not be denied.
Sparks fly and smoke rises where the chain touches the sword. Not matter what, this sword will not be denied.
Gilgamesh glares at his bound captive before he speaks.
A sword cursed by the gods themselves. A fitting weapon for a beast like yourself, but now it is time to put you down.
Another snip.
This time there is no escape for the black swordsman, the chain of heaven binds him even as a dozen Noble Phantasms pierce his body. On the floor the blood of the king and the warrior mix together. The force of the Weapons striking him throws him back, together with the chains straining to hold him in place.
Bound as he is Assassin does not rise, but the king of heroes makes no idle threats. This man's life is his, his wrteched existence, Gilgamesh will snuff it out.
His hand raises, his fingers twitch, then...
Archer
Feeling the red-clad servants presence Gilgamesh turns around.
The faker stands there smiling. No, not simply smiling, he is downright smirking.
What do you find so amusing, faker? Does the death of your enemy bring you happiness? Foolish mongrel, you will meet him again soon enough. None of you are a match against me.
Archer's lips move, yet, no sound can be heard.
An annoyance, Gilgamesh glares, those mongrels are starting to anger him.
Has the futility of your existence driven you speechless, faker? Speak up if you dare.
Yes, Archer is definitely smirking now.
And this time his words are loud and clear.
So as I pray, Unlimited Blade Works.
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The moment the world shifts a storm of steel descends upon Archer. Blade after blade comes down upon him, comes down and is reflected by what seems to be a mirror image of itself.
Glaring at his enemy Gilgamesh stares at the twisted reality around him.
A reality marble, so that is your power? That is all you bring forth to defeat the king of heroes? Do you think this will allow you to break even one of my weapons?
You say they are your weapons King of Heroes, but up till now, all you have done is shoot them at me like arrows. Those blades you claim as your own, do you even how to use them?
Anger. Gilgamesh is feeling anger, for the first time in a long while he is really starting to get pissed. This damn faker is beginning to annoy him, extremely so.
Your pathetic magic can't hope to overcome me, mongrel, know your place.
Again swords clash, like arrows they shoot through the air, but this time Gilgamesh is on the defence. The red-clad servant is overwhelming him.
Then he charges, ducking low Archer uses his own swords as cover to close in on Gilgamesh, swinging his twin swords at his enemy. One is deflected, the second hits true, sending the king of heroes to the ground. A strong blow to an already weakened opponent.
Jumping backwards Archer readies even more swords, his intent to end the battle with the next attack is clear for everyone to see. Smirking he addresses Gilgamesh one more time.
This is no mere magic, it is a promise for victory King of Kings. Right here, right now, all you treasures will not avail you. Now, fade away, just like the memory of your precious Uruk.
Staggering, the golden-armoured servant raises up to his knees. Blood is dripping from his lips and he is obviously in great pain. His wounds are severe yet, he does not show any fear. He clenches his right fist, hard enough to draw blood, gritting his teeth and with a sudden movement he glares at his enemy with hate shining through his eyes.
You speak of my death so easily mongrel, even though nothing is over yet.
Standing up Gilgamesh stares at his enemy. His red eyes are alight with madness and anger, reflecting the fires of this world. This is not the displeasure of a king but the rage of man.
Do you even understand who you are speaking to, you faker?
He takes a single staggering step forward, leaving behind a bloody footprint as his foot leaves the ground.
His eyes narrow as he moves his body, his remaining arm that had held his torso, now tightened into a fist again and shaking with barely suppressed rage.
It is by the memory of my deeds that heroes are defined.
With a sneer the king of kings raises his remaining hand and snaps his fingers.
It is my name that calls forth thoughts of vast fortunes and fame.
A king's order.
I am Gilgamesh.
And reality obeys. Rippling like a pond hit by a stone it opens and from the depths of his vaults, the king's fortune appears.
I AM LEGEND
Without end, weapon after weapon, called from the deepest part of Uruk's treasuries, they take their place behind their master. More and more appear. Some full of decorations others without any splendour at all. It is a fitting army for the one who possesses the Golden Rule.
Yet, even now the golden-haired servant does not smile nor smirk. There is nothing left for him to smile about. He has let this go on for long enough.
The thought of allowing this mongrel even one more victory, one more copy, sickens him to the core.
He will put an end to this mockery of a battle. Now.
With a flash of red light the instrument of his enemy's destruction appears in his hands.
Ea
The sword is old. Old and nameless, yet he calls it simply Ea. It is older than any other weapon he owns and more powerful than any weapon that has since been created. A blade fitting for a king he thinks.
Grabbing the handle he balefully glares at Archer. The white-haired servant has made no move to stop him when he summoned his weapons. It was not necessary after all. As long as it is here, in this graveyard of shattered blades, a thought is enough to rival Gilgamesh weapons arsenal.
But that oddly-shaped inscribed blade Gilgamesh has in his hands now, Archer can't trace it.
It is not that he lacks the ability to do it, it wouldn't matter even if he trains for another thousand years, because that sword, it wouldnt be going too far to say that it is more than just unique.
This sword will never face a copy of itself, not even in this world and for Gilgamesh to use it against Archer.....His anger must truly be greater than anything he has ever experienced.
Nodding sideways at his weapons the king of kings speaks.
Trace as many of those trinkets as you wish, mongrel, create a thousand fakes if you want, someone like you will never defeat ME. This world of broken swords that you call your own, before I let you wound me even one more time, I will TEAR IT APART MYSELF.
With a startling roar the blade starts to rotate. Slowly at first but gaining strength with every moment the sword roars louder and louder and Gilgamesh is waiting calmly for the sword to gain the necessary power.
And around him all hell is set loose.
Original vs. Fake
The sound of breaking steel fills the air, pieces of broken weapons fly around like shrapnel and in the background the giant clockworks work tirelessly.
Like a massive rock wall Gilgamesh treasures protect their master, facing off against their copy's, over and over again.
But the king of kings does not move even as the roar of Ea starts to deafen even him. His face does not so much as twitch as he sees Archer closing in on him, swords in hand, ready to stop him from delivering his divine justice.
A thought is enough.
A dozen swords.
Faster than the eye can follow they descend upon their target.
A dozen fakes.
Rivalling the speed of their parents, they appear next to the running Archer.
Annihilation follows. Metal screams as it dies. The sounds are enough to make a normal human's ears bleed. Yet it is drowned out by the noise of this war of legendary steel all around them.
And through a cloud of metal shards Archer sprints onwards, the attack not even making him pause in his charge. His target is still in his sight.
The red-clad servant will reach Gilgamesh. He will be able to stop him. Ea still needs a few seconds for it to put an end to this twisted world. He needs more power.
Something shoots out at Archer, a flash of light reveals it to be made of iron, the moment it gets too close a copy is created and hits its counterpart.
And for the first time since his declaration of victory Gilgamesh smiles as he sees his opponent stumble with both, original and copy of Enkidu tangled around Archer's legs.
It is only a seconds worth of delay, the chain of heaven was not meant to bind someone with no divinity after all. Even both chains together provide only a minor distraction.
The moment Archer has Gilgamesh in his sight again he understands the new situation he is now presented with. His window of opportunity is gone. Even if he moves as fast as he can he will not be able to reach the king of kings in time.
Continuing his charge would be a fatal mistake. A fitting end for someone as broken as him....but...... that's not like him at all.
There is still a chance for survival.even when faced against the might of Ea, the eyes steeled in battle see the path he must take.
His feet dig into the ground, bringing his body to a stop. The second his momentum stops completely, he jumps back.
Away from the certain death that awaits him.
ENUMA....ELISH
The roar of the oldest of blades as it surges forward swallows every other sound on the battlefield. For the first time since the beginning of their battle the sound of steel hitting steel is gone.
Harsh red light bathes Archer's world in deep crimson.
An unstoppable wave of force, enough power to cut this world apart, under Ea's strength space and time rend themselves apart.
And in front of Archer a wall of steel rises up. A shield against Gilgamesh's fury and Ea's might. Thousands of thousands of swords clot together, sacrificing themselves for their master.
A paradox. Those blades that he carved out of his own body. Archer sacrifices himself to save himself.
It is madness.
The chance of survival is next to zero. but the possibility exists.
So he waits.
So he prays.
Original meets Fake.
Unlimited Blade Works.
Sidenote: well, we're coming closer to the conclusion, for all those who are interested, this story will find it's end most likely in the next 2 chapters, 3 if I think it's necessary.
SideSidenote: This is the LONGEST chapter up till now, woohoo
Well, here it is, enjoy, people.
Miracle 7
They do not look impressive.
Three servant-less masters and a lone servant.
They do not look impressive at all.
Still, they have a plan and are ready to carry it out.
Guts stops without warning, even though they are not that far away from the church now. His face morphs once more into that disturbing grin of his. Looks like someone is waiting for us.
Rin stiffens. If someone is watching them from this distance she knows who it must be. Archer. Her voice is an odd mix of anger and shame when she breathes out the name of her former servant. Betrayal always hurts the most after all.
He can see him, that white-haired servant. He can see his hawk-like gaze, see the bow in his hands and the words that leave Archers lips. Assassin rests the sword on his shoulder and smiles. The message is clear, there is no mistaking his intention.
So....you won't let me make another step, won't you? Let's see about that, bastard.
Turning around he motions for them to go on.
Looks like this is going to be fun. He really is itching for a fight now. Those guys, Lancer, Berserker and now Archer, he really can't help it, he wants to fight against more warriors like that.
That guy.... Rin's voice is hesitant, her eyes betray her discomfort with whatever she wants to talk about. He can guess what she wants though.
I'll leave him alive so you can kick him when you get back....that what you want?
His answer is a grateful nod and a mumbled thanks, kind of cute he notes, now that he thinks about it, but he has something else to take care of now. Facing his far away enemy once more he takes a single step forward, swinging his sword the moment his foot leaves the ground.
A low whistle is the only warning they have before Archer's arrow hits the Dragonslayer, bathing the whole area in a red hue.
Another step
Again arrow and sword clash.
This time Guts does not turn around when he speaks.
Well, get going, I'll take care of that guy.
A cute voice interrupts, her angry tone speaks volumes.
Don't you dare and die against Archer, do you hear me Assassin?
Another arrow hits. For a moment the explosion drowns out their voices as the three magi run to the church, still even then the young girl hears his voice.
Yeah yeah, I'll just keep on swinging that sword around like the idiot I am, happy now princess?
Without a doubt he knows that she couldn't have heard him but....for a moment he thinks he can see her smile and nod.
It has been a while since someone has been waiting for him to return....it's a nice feeling. Nearly as nice as squashing his enemies like flies.
Nearly
Smirking he slashes at another arrow, the shockwave numbs his arm for a moment, telling him that he needs to adjust his grip. Then a moment of peace as another arrow is prepared.
Guts starts to sprint. He hates long-range fighting. Of course....his Dragonslayer might count as long-range, being as tall as some people he knew and taller than some of the people he had protected.
Still the next attack does not come, another moment goes by....
The moment he sees them, he raises his sword up, five arrows, all coming at him at the same time. A perfectly timed attack, speed, precision and power are beyond anything a normal person could ever hope to achieve.
His single eye shines with a light of its own as the arrows close in on him. His arm starts to blur and the massive blade in his hand disappears from sight, Lancer was not the only one capable of a strong defence. This time the explosion swallows the still running servant for a moment, singing his clothes and hair as he runs through it.
He won't stop now.
But Archer continues to shoot at him, letting him push onwards just like that and giving no indication that he cares about the three magi sneaking about at all. This has the smelling of a trap all over it, but traps can be reversed and used on their masters.
Another shot.
And another
Again and again he strikes the arrows down before he finally reaches the still smug-looking Archer. The white-haired servant releases his bow and two swords appear in his hands. The same swords he used last time. Does he want to fight in close-combat again?
Then....DODGE
Reacting on instinct, both, Archer and Guts, evade the swords that now pierce the ground where they had stood mere moments before. The source of the swords is hidden behind a tree for a moment, before the servant comes forward.
Slowly Gilgamesh's golden-clad figure walks up to them, clapping slowly, mocking them with both his actions and his words.
Well, well, what do we have here? A faker and a thief fighting each other, how absolutely fitting, filth should take care of filth after all.
Guts tightens the grip on his swords in anticipation. This guy is a servant, no doubt about that, how that works he has no idea, he thought there was some kind of limit for servants, but it doesn't matter now. If that guy is a servant that means it's time to kill someone.
He's all for that.
Archer jumps back, a tactical retreat for now. Letting Gilgamesh deal with Assassin would make it a lot easier for him after all.
Setting his eyes on Guts, the king of kings snorts disdainful.
You have something that belongs to me thief, won't you return it to me before I take your life as punishment for your theft?
Guts eyebrow rises slowly. His grin becomes mocking. This kind of guy, clad in gold, arrogant to a fault, that's the kind of guy he hates the most.
Did you say something? Can't hear shit, with the whole size difference, so why don't you say that again midget?
Hmm, the mongrel thinks to insult me....how deeply pathetic, filth like you should at least know its place.
Guts only smirks. Frightening....as always. The Dragonslayer rests easily in his hand, it is even lighter than before. Maybe he's going crazy but...no, without a doubt, this sword wants to kill that golden bastard. It wants to tear him open like a piece of fresh meat and make him bleed, spill that divine blood all over the floor. That's good he muses. He wants to kill him too.
Without waiting for another barb he charges at Gilgamesh.
His answer is a hail of blades. They are faster than an arrow, faster than one would think it is possible for a sword to fly. Those swords are noble phantasm, ever single on of them.
The finest of blades ever created.
They tear, they shatter, they break. What they face is no ordinary sword. It is too big, too rough and too cumbersome to be called a sword. It is a big lump of iron. Forged in Hate.
Baptized in blood. Cursed by god.
This sword called Dragonslayer, can not be broken by just the finest of blades.
A strange blade for a mongrel, but a blade like that without a history behind it can not touch me.
History, Man, weird guys like you really creep me out. If you want a history that badly, I'll carve it into you with this sword.
Hmmm, carve into me, such impudence, a lowlife like you will not be able to hit me even once.
Ten steps
That's all the distance between them. Ten little steps. Ten steps opposed by a hundred swords.
Red light fills the battlefield.
Gilgamesh reacts immediately the moment he turns around and sees Archer's arrow aimed at his heart. This attack, a direct hit would prove fatal, but the treasures of the king of kings are many and all of them have a purpose in the end.
Before the arrow can hit a flower blooms. Blue petals, like a shield they arise between the deadly arrow and his target, 4 of them, beautiful and strong, the perfect defence against an attack like this.
The shield that would one day create the legend of Rho Aias.
It is not enough.
They force behind Archer's attack is too great. The original it may be....but it lacks the strength of its successor.
Petal after petal shatters, like flowers in the wind.
The explosion envelopes both of them, Gilgamesh and Guts. When the harsh light subsides, the king of heroes is still standing, but his armour is blackened and his hair slightly singed.
His glare is fierce as he stares at Archer's smug face. The red-clad servant opens his mouth but Gilgamesh can not hear him.
All he hears is the sound of air being cut behind him as the Dragonslayer descends, all he sees when he twists his head is the terrifying grin Guts wears as he comes into range.
And with a terrible sound the sword cuts off his left arm, slicing through steel, flesh and bone.
Shock
Blood flows
Rage
Pain grows
HATE
Gilgamesh's face twists, with a snarl on his lips he snaps the fingers on his remaining right hand.
Enkidu heeds its master's call.
Before the black swordsman can even raise his sword from the first strike he is bound by the chain of heaven. To bind those of divine blood, that is Enkidu's purpose. Someone like Guts should not be stopped by it. But blood can not be denied.
Not by those born in it, nor by those stained with it.
With a sickening crunch Enkidu encircles him even tighter, the level of divine blood on him is enormous. His armour has become a death trap. Yet, even when the chain binds him harder and harder, the Dragonslayer will not be denied.
Sparks fly and smoke rises where the chain touches the sword. Not matter what, this sword will not be denied.
Gilgamesh glares at his bound captive before he speaks.
A sword cursed by the gods themselves. A fitting weapon for a beast like yourself, but now it is time to put you down.
Another snip.
This time there is no escape for the black swordsman, the chain of heaven binds him even as a dozen Noble Phantasms pierce his body. On the floor the blood of the king and the warrior mix together. The force of the Weapons striking him throws him back, together with the chains straining to hold him in place.
Bound as he is Assassin does not rise, but the king of heroes makes no idle threats. This man's life is his, his wrteched existence, Gilgamesh will snuff it out.
His hand raises, his fingers twitch, then...
Archer
Feeling the red-clad servants presence Gilgamesh turns around.
The faker stands there smiling. No, not simply smiling, he is downright smirking.
What do you find so amusing, faker? Does the death of your enemy bring you happiness? Foolish mongrel, you will meet him again soon enough. None of you are a match against me.
Archer's lips move, yet, no sound can be heard.
An annoyance, Gilgamesh glares, those mongrels are starting to anger him.
Has the futility of your existence driven you speechless, faker? Speak up if you dare.
Yes, Archer is definitely smirking now.
And this time his words are loud and clear.
So as I pray, Unlimited Blade Works.
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The moment the world shifts a storm of steel descends upon Archer. Blade after blade comes down upon him, comes down and is reflected by what seems to be a mirror image of itself.
Glaring at his enemy Gilgamesh stares at the twisted reality around him.
A reality marble, so that is your power? That is all you bring forth to defeat the king of heroes? Do you think this will allow you to break even one of my weapons?
You say they are your weapons King of Heroes, but up till now, all you have done is shoot them at me like arrows. Those blades you claim as your own, do you even how to use them?
Anger. Gilgamesh is feeling anger, for the first time in a long while he is really starting to get pissed. This damn faker is beginning to annoy him, extremely so.
Your pathetic magic can't hope to overcome me, mongrel, know your place.
Again swords clash, like arrows they shoot through the air, but this time Gilgamesh is on the defence. The red-clad servant is overwhelming him.
Then he charges, ducking low Archer uses his own swords as cover to close in on Gilgamesh, swinging his twin swords at his enemy. One is deflected, the second hits true, sending the king of heroes to the ground. A strong blow to an already weakened opponent.
Jumping backwards Archer readies even more swords, his intent to end the battle with the next attack is clear for everyone to see. Smirking he addresses Gilgamesh one more time.
This is no mere magic, it is a promise for victory King of Kings. Right here, right now, all you treasures will not avail you. Now, fade away, just like the memory of your precious Uruk.
Staggering, the golden-armoured servant raises up to his knees. Blood is dripping from his lips and he is obviously in great pain. His wounds are severe yet, he does not show any fear. He clenches his right fist, hard enough to draw blood, gritting his teeth and with a sudden movement he glares at his enemy with hate shining through his eyes.
You speak of my death so easily mongrel, even though nothing is over yet.
Standing up Gilgamesh stares at his enemy. His red eyes are alight with madness and anger, reflecting the fires of this world. This is not the displeasure of a king but the rage of man.
Do you even understand who you are speaking to, you faker?
He takes a single staggering step forward, leaving behind a bloody footprint as his foot leaves the ground.
His eyes narrow as he moves his body, his remaining arm that had held his torso, now tightened into a fist again and shaking with barely suppressed rage.
It is by the memory of my deeds that heroes are defined.
With a sneer the king of kings raises his remaining hand and snaps his fingers.
It is my name that calls forth thoughts of vast fortunes and fame.
A king's order.
I am Gilgamesh.
And reality obeys. Rippling like a pond hit by a stone it opens and from the depths of his vaults, the king's fortune appears.
I AM LEGEND
Without end, weapon after weapon, called from the deepest part of Uruk's treasuries, they take their place behind their master. More and more appear. Some full of decorations others without any splendour at all. It is a fitting army for the one who possesses the Golden Rule.
Yet, even now the golden-haired servant does not smile nor smirk. There is nothing left for him to smile about. He has let this go on for long enough.
The thought of allowing this mongrel even one more victory, one more copy, sickens him to the core.
He will put an end to this mockery of a battle. Now.
With a flash of red light the instrument of his enemy's destruction appears in his hands.
Ea
The sword is old. Old and nameless, yet he calls it simply Ea. It is older than any other weapon he owns and more powerful than any weapon that has since been created. A blade fitting for a king he thinks.
Grabbing the handle he balefully glares at Archer. The white-haired servant has made no move to stop him when he summoned his weapons. It was not necessary after all. As long as it is here, in this graveyard of shattered blades, a thought is enough to rival Gilgamesh weapons arsenal.
But that oddly-shaped inscribed blade Gilgamesh has in his hands now, Archer can't trace it.
It is not that he lacks the ability to do it, it wouldn't matter even if he trains for another thousand years, because that sword, it wouldnt be going too far to say that it is more than just unique.
This sword will never face a copy of itself, not even in this world and for Gilgamesh to use it against Archer.....His anger must truly be greater than anything he has ever experienced.
Nodding sideways at his weapons the king of kings speaks.
Trace as many of those trinkets as you wish, mongrel, create a thousand fakes if you want, someone like you will never defeat ME. This world of broken swords that you call your own, before I let you wound me even one more time, I will TEAR IT APART MYSELF.
With a startling roar the blade starts to rotate. Slowly at first but gaining strength with every moment the sword roars louder and louder and Gilgamesh is waiting calmly for the sword to gain the necessary power.
And around him all hell is set loose.
Original vs. Fake
The sound of breaking steel fills the air, pieces of broken weapons fly around like shrapnel and in the background the giant clockworks work tirelessly.
Like a massive rock wall Gilgamesh treasures protect their master, facing off against their copy's, over and over again.
But the king of kings does not move even as the roar of Ea starts to deafen even him. His face does not so much as twitch as he sees Archer closing in on him, swords in hand, ready to stop him from delivering his divine justice.
A thought is enough.
A dozen swords.
Faster than the eye can follow they descend upon their target.
A dozen fakes.
Rivalling the speed of their parents, they appear next to the running Archer.
Annihilation follows. Metal screams as it dies. The sounds are enough to make a normal human's ears bleed. Yet it is drowned out by the noise of this war of legendary steel all around them.
And through a cloud of metal shards Archer sprints onwards, the attack not even making him pause in his charge. His target is still in his sight.
The red-clad servant will reach Gilgamesh. He will be able to stop him. Ea still needs a few seconds for it to put an end to this twisted world. He needs more power.
Something shoots out at Archer, a flash of light reveals it to be made of iron, the moment it gets too close a copy is created and hits its counterpart.
And for the first time since his declaration of victory Gilgamesh smiles as he sees his opponent stumble with both, original and copy of Enkidu tangled around Archer's legs.
It is only a seconds worth of delay, the chain of heaven was not meant to bind someone with no divinity after all. Even both chains together provide only a minor distraction.
The moment Archer has Gilgamesh in his sight again he understands the new situation he is now presented with. His window of opportunity is gone. Even if he moves as fast as he can he will not be able to reach the king of kings in time.
Continuing his charge would be a fatal mistake. A fitting end for someone as broken as him....but...... that's not like him at all.
There is still a chance for survival.even when faced against the might of Ea, the eyes steeled in battle see the path he must take.
His feet dig into the ground, bringing his body to a stop. The second his momentum stops completely, he jumps back.
Away from the certain death that awaits him.
ENUMA....ELISH
The roar of the oldest of blades as it surges forward swallows every other sound on the battlefield. For the first time since the beginning of their battle the sound of steel hitting steel is gone.
Harsh red light bathes Archer's world in deep crimson.
An unstoppable wave of force, enough power to cut this world apart, under Ea's strength space and time rend themselves apart.
And in front of Archer a wall of steel rises up. A shield against Gilgamesh's fury and Ea's might. Thousands of thousands of swords clot together, sacrificing themselves for their master.
A paradox. Those blades that he carved out of his own body. Archer sacrifices himself to save himself.
It is madness.
The chance of survival is next to zero. but the possibility exists.
So he waits.
So he prays.
Original meets Fake.
Unlimited Blade Works.
