“Crunch…
munch, munch…”
In the living room of a luxurious villa in Miyama-cho, Fuyuki City, a bizarre scene unfolded—one worthy of going down in Type-Moon history.
Gilgamesh, the King of Heroes, the oldest king who stood atop all creation, was currently standing stock-still in an utterly stiff posture.
Yoru Hayashi had forcibly stuffed a slice of gooey, stringy-cheesed Hawaiian pizza into his mouth, topped with a chunk of golden roasted pineapple.
As the ruler of Sumerian civilization, what delicacy had Gilgamesh not tasted?
The fine wines and delicacies stored in his vault could make every Michelin-starred chef in the world commit seppuku out of sheer shame.
The problem was, ancient Babylon back in the BC era…
didn’t fucking have tomatoes, let alone pineapples!
The rich, sweet-and-sour flavor of tomatoes, blended with the savory aroma of baked ham and creamy cheese, detonated like a flavor bomb of modern industrial civilization right on the King of Heroes’ tongue.
*Gulp.*
Gilgamesh’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he reflexively swallowed the piece of pizza.
Honestly, it didn’t taste half bad.
Especially that sweet-and-sour yellow fruit—the pineapple—paired with the baked meat, it produced a surprisingly marvelous chemical reaction.
However, his pride as a king absolutely forbade him from showing a face of “delicious” in front of a mongrel!
“Bah!
Vulgar, commoner trash!” Gilgamesh lashed out with his hand, his face so dark it looked like storm clouds, though an honest streak of tomato sauce remained smeared at the corner of his mouth.
“This carbohydrate monstrosity filled with low-grade spices and cheap sugar is nothing short of a profanation to my palate!”
“Yeah, yeah, profanation, whatever you say.
If you’re so tough, spit back out what you just swallowed.”
Yoru Hayashi rolled his eyes, casually snatched an ice-cold can of Coca-Cola from the coffee table, popped the tab with a crisp *snap*, and tossed it straight into Gilgamesh’s hand.
“Here, rinse your mouth.
This stuff is called ‘Happy Water.’ Chug it down, take a big burp, and I guarantee all that profanation will get flushed out with the carbon dioxide.”
Gilgamesh stared down at the cold aluminum can, his brow tied in a tight knot.
He glared at Yoru Hayashi’s punchable, deadpan face, then glanced at the little girl on the sofa who was curiously studying him with her wide eyes.
Surprisingly, Sakura didn’t scream or break down under the king’s aura like ordinary mortals.
Seeing how nonchalantly Yoru acted toward this “gold-shiny uncle,” the little girl grew bolder.
She pulled a tissue from the coffee table and offered it to him tentatively.
“Gold-shiny Uncle…
you have something red on your mouth…” Sakura said timidly.
“…”
Gilgamesh stared at the plain white tissue, then at Tohsaka Sakura.
What he detested most in his life were noisy brats.
Yet this blue-eyed girl bore a peculiar quality—like a tender sprout breaking through after being washed clean of despair.
Most importantly, she hadn’t screamed.
“Hmph.”
The King of Heroes scoffed softly.
Instead of taking the tissue, golden light flashed behind him as the Gate of Babylon opened.
A priceless handkerchief woven from Sumerian ice-silk flew out, and he wiped the ketchup from the corner of his mouth with supreme arrogance.
“Since I must reside in this foul slum, this armor is indeed too much of an eyesore.”
With a single thought, the blindingly golden heavy armor vanished into specks of light.
Replacing it was a set of “modern casual clothes” retrieved from the Gate of Babylon.
A few seconds later.
Yoru Hayashi spat out a mouthful of cola.
“Pfft—*cough, cough, cough!*”
Yoru Hayashi pointed at Gilgamesh, collapsing on the sofa in fits of laughter.
“Holy crap!
Goldie, did you take a masterclass in Shinjuku’s Kabukicho?
That tight V-neck white T-shirt, that black leather jacket, and those ostentatious snakeskin pants!
If you walked down the street like that, you’d 100% be mistaken for a top host from a club looking for a sugar mama!”
“Silence!
You tasteless mongrel!” Veins throbbed on Gilgamesh’s forehead.
“This outfit was meticulously chosen from my treasury as the supreme aesthetic match for this era!”
“Sure, sure.
You’re handsome, so whatever you wear is right.” Yoru Hayashi wiped away tears of laughter from his eyes. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
It hadn’t felt so jarring when watching it in the original work, but seeing it right in front of him in three dimensions, the overpowering Y2K punk-biker vibe was simply breathtaking.
While the two were bickering, the door to the basement opened.
Kariya Matou dragged himself up, trembling wildly as he gripped the banister, his face as pale as death.
He had heard everything clearly from down below.
Not only had Yoru Hayashi mocked the King of Heroes’ hairstyle, but he had also forced him to eat junk food.
Kariya had even prepared his last words as he crawled up, bracing himself for a Noble Phantasm that would blast the villa to smithereens.
However, when he poked his head out and took in the scene in the living room, he froze completely.
The legendary oldest king—supposedly the most tyrannical and arrogant of all—was currently wearing a biker leather jacket, holding a cold, frosty can of cola.
And Yoru Hayashi was lounging on the couch with his legs crossed, ridiculing his trousers.
Beside them, Sakura was intently watching *Tom and Jerry*.
What kind of weird domestic sitcom was this?!
“Hey bro, you’re finally back among the living.
Come, come, let me introduce you officially.”
Yoru Hayashi slung an arm around Kariya’s shoulders and pointed at Gilgamesh.
“This is our heavy-hitting partner and head of security, Archer—Gilgamesh.
Of course, you can call him Boss Gold like I do.”
Kariya stumbled back in terror, not daring to utter a single word.
As someone raised in a proper magus family, awe and reverence for Heroic Spirits was ingrained in his very bones.
However, Yoru Hayashi’s next words were like a shot of adrenaline slammed straight into Kariya’s heart.
“Bro Kariya, haven’t you realized it yet?” Yoru Hayashi grinned like a pyramid scheme boss who had just pulled off a multi-million-dollar scam.
“Boss Gold here was originally the ultimate trump card Tokiomi Tohsaka went through endless trouble and bankrupted himself to summon with that catalyst!”
*Boom!*
It was as if lightning had struck Kariya’s brain.
That’s right!
That snake-slough fossil belonged to Tokiomi Tohsaka!
This strongest Heroic Spirit was supposed to belong to Tokiomi!
Yet now, this Heroic Spirit was standing in their living room, drinking their cola, and serving as their ally to deal with Tokiomi Tohsaka!
It was as if Tokiomi had spent ten painstaking years growing a top-grade cabbage, and before he could even put it in the pot, Yoru Hayashi had carried it over—pot, soil, and all—right onto the Matou family’s dining table!
A twisted, perverted pleasure—so intensely satisfying it made his very soul quiver—instantly swept through Kariya Matou’s entire body.
“Tokiomi’s…
trump card…
is ours?” Kariya muttered under his breath.
His eyes, which had been lifeless from the lingering effects of the Crest Worms, suddenly burst with an intense light.
“Hahahahaha!” Kariya suddenly covered his face and burst into wild laughter like a madman.
“Tokiomi!
You self-righteous bastard!
You took Aoi from me, and you threw Sakura into the worm pit!
Now, your greatest asset has been poached by us!
Let’s see how you maintain that disgusting elegance of yours now!”
At the thought of Tokiomi potentially raging helplessly at home right now, Kariya felt his breathing grow smooth, his back stop aching, his legs lose their weakness, and he was no longer afraid of looking at Gilgamesh.
He even felt an impulse to rush straight to the front gates of the Tohsaka manor right now, point at Tokiomi’s nose, and yell: *Tokiomi, you old bastard, your wife—scratch that—your Servant is amazing!*
“He’s awakened.
This guy has fully awakened his cuckoldry soul,” Yoru Hayashi said, shaking his head in disgust at the euphoric Kariya.
Meanwhile, standing to the side, Gilgamesh merely cast a cold glance at Kariya.
“Is this the other partner you spoke of?
A stray dog filled with envy and hatred, yet lacking even the strength to claim revenge?” The King of Heroes sneered.
“Compared to him, a mad dog babbling nonsense like you is far more pleasing to the eye.”
“Ignore him, that’s just how he is—terrible at everything but obsessed with trying.
Luckily he’s rich, so all our future food and living expenses will be on his tab.”
Yoru Hayashi clapped his hands, pulling everyone’s attention back.
“Now that everyone’s here, let’s plan tomorrow’s itinerary,” Yoru Hayashi announced enthusiastically.
Gilgamesh raised his chin slightly.
“Oh? This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
Are we finally going to hunt down the other Masters and display the bloody entertainment of this boring war to me?”
“What hunt?
Fighting and killing is so bloody—what if it scares Sakura?”
Yoru Hayashi rolled his eyes with complete justification, pointing at a mark on the map of Fuyuki City.
“Tomorrow is Sunday.
I checked the weather forecast, and it’s going to be bright and sunny.
So tomorrow’s battle plan is: everyone moves out to take Sakura to Fuyuki City’s newly built amusement park to ride roller coasters, eat cotton candy, and hit up the mall to sweep up the newest video game consoles!”
Silence descended upon the room once more.
Three veins throbbed on Gilgamesh’s forehead again.
“You dare ask me…
the greatest and oldest King of Heroes, to serve as an amusement park bodyguard for an unweaned brat?!”
“Don’t go if you don’t want to.
You can just stay back and house-sit the villa alone.
By the way, sweep the floors and remember to sort the trash.” Yoru Hayashi waved his hand nonchalantly.
“You damned mongrel!
Do you truly believe I cannot slay you?!
Gate of Babylon—!”
“Sakura, do you want to eat ice cream tomorrow?
Strawberry or chocolate?”
“Big brother…
I want chocolate…”
Looking at the pair—one big, one small—who completely ignored him to discuss ice cream flavors, the golden ripples behind Gilgamesh flickered a few times before reluctantly receding.
“Hmph!
I shall see what dull tricks your so-called amusement facilities of the modern mob possess!” The King of Heroes spat out harsh words through grit teeth and slumped onto a single-seater armchair.
…
Meanwhile.
In the basement of the Tohsaka Manor in Miyama-cho, Fuyuki City.
Tokiomi Tohsaka’s appearance was now entirely disconnected from the word “elegance.”
His expensive burgundy suit was stained with blood from his own palms and splashes of red wine.
He clutched the parchment signed “From the Pure Love God of War” in a vise grip, his eyes bloodshot.
Before Tokiomi, the horn of an antique gramophone emitted the deadpan, emotionless voice of his disciple, Kirei Kotomine.
“Master, the boundary field around the perimeter of the Tohsaka residence detected an abnormal burst of magic energy.
However, the intruder broke through too quickly; the monitoring familiar only captured a blurry silhouette wearing a short-sleeved shirt.
Shall I…
immediately dispatch Assassin to pursue?”
Kirei Kotomine had actually detected his teacher’s wildly unstable breathing.
For some reason, listening to Tokiomi Tohsaka’s near-collapsing gasps stirred a faint surge of…
pleasure within Kirei’s chronically empty heart.
“There is no need to pursue…
The magical resonance on the catalyst has vanished.
The thief has already completed the summoning.”
Tokiomi Tohsaka’s voice sounded as if he had aged ten years in an instant.
Leaning against the shattered crystal display stand, he felt as though his entire life as a magus had suffered a devastating blow.
The King of Heroes had been stolen out from under him.
The efforts of generations of the Tohsaka family preparing for this Holy Grail War had been hijacked by a thug ten months before the war even began!
“Master, then regarding your Servant summoning…” Kirei twisted the knife at just the right moment over the comm line.
“I still have a backup plan!”
Grit his teeth, Tokiomi Tohsaka straightened up abruptly like a desperate gambler who had lost everything, desperately trying to maintain his last pathetic shred of elegance.
“Go to the Tohsaka underground vault and bring me that worn scrap of iron we secretly acquired from the British Museum—the one said to bear the aura of a ‘Knight of the Round Table.'”
Tokiomi took a deep breath, tore the parchment in his hand into tiny shreds, threw them to the ground, and stomped on them furiously.
“‘Pure Love God of War,’ is it?!
Stealing my catalyst, are you?!
Even if I, Tokiomi Tohsaka, must use a second-rate catalyst, I will find you, you uncultured thief, and grind your bones to dust!”