Hearing someone make such a confident and self-assured declaration, Gilgamesh was left utterly dumbfounded.
Even for someone of his stature, absorbing such a shocking revelation caused his mind to momentarily short-circuit.
Could such an absurd reality actually exist within another parallel dimension?
That version of himself…
had actually gotten married?
And of all people, the bride was Ereshkigal, the goddess of the Underworld who spent every waking hour hiding in the dark, gloomy depths below?!
If forced to choose between “marrying Ereshkigal” and “accepting the courtship of that wench Ishtar,” he genuinely felt the latter possessed a slightly higher mathematical probability.
Yet here it was, unfolding right before his eyes.
The reality of it was being forcefully shoved into his perception in a manner he couldn’t possibly refute.
The aura of death and the Underworld swirling around the lance held by this crude, brawl-loving version of himself was one hundred percent authentic.
What made Gilgamesh’s skin crawl even more was that this presence wasn’t just genuine divine energy.
The power coiled around that lance was absolutely not a conceptual authority bartered through a political marriage, nor was it a contract secured by sweet-talking a goddess.
The power contained within that weapon was fueled by pure, unreserved, and genuine affection.
Had this preposterous situation happened to anyone else, the living Gilgamesh would have immediately brought out his finest aged wine, summoned Enkidu to his throne, and spent days and nights talking endlessly about it.
It would have been a magnificent, highly entertaining drinking session to pass the time.
However…
if the person being mocked for their blind judgment—the unfortunate fool who had wedded a goddess of death—was another version of himself, then the situation was entirely different!
This was no longer a piece of amusing gossip.
This was an absolute, unmitigated disgrace!
“Absurd…
This is completely absurd!!!”
“Vanish!
Take your disgusting delusions and crawl back into whatever filthy mire you came from!”
Gilgamesh continuously amped up the volume and grade of his Noble Phantasm bombardment.
This time, the items emerging from the golden ripples were no longer conventional armaments.
To completely vaporize Li Xiang, he began utilizing highly dangerous conceptual weapons from his treasury—deploying elemental energy attacks like lightning and frost alongside higher-ranked divine instruments.
Yet, the smile on Li Xiang’s face didn’t fade in the slightest.
“Too slow!
Besides, toys of this caliber are completely useless against me now!”
Li Xiang’s lance sliced through the air, carving out pitch-black trajectories that resembled an invisible umbrella woven from absolute demise.
As casually as one might brush away raindrops, Li Xiang effortlessly deflected the high-grade Noble Phantasms.
However, Gilgamesh quickly noticed an anomaly.
The Noble Phantasms Li Xiang batted away didn’t simply bounce off as they had before.
Instead, the moment those weapons—burning with fierce flames or crackling with lightning—made contact with the dark-crimson underworld energy coating Li Xiang’s lance, their light instantly extinguished, as if the life force had been violently drained out of them.
The lightning dispersed; the flames died.
Immediately following the impact, massive patches of rust rapidly corroded the original conceptual models of the Noble Phantasms in mid-air.
As though they had undergone tens of thousands of years of weathering and decay, they dissolved directly into clouds of dark-gray spiritual dust before they could even hit the pavement, scattering into the wind.
More crucially, Gilgamesh realized that he could no longer recall the weapons that had been touched by the lance’s deathly energy and turned to dust.
Normally, once a Noble Phantasm was fired, he could instantly recall it to his vault using his authority over the Gate of Babylon, regardless of where it landed.
But now, these weapons were conceptually “dead.” For the time being, they were locked away from his use.
Beyond that, Gilgamesh confirmed another fact.
The short swords and spears Li Xiang had occasionally fired off as stepping stones or covering fire earlier possessed a vibrational frequency similar to the originals in his own treasury, but their fundamental essence was entirely distinct.
In other words, the Noble Phantasms the stranger was using hadn’t been stolen from his Gate of Babylon.
To be precise, their respective treasuries were two independent, parallel systems that did not interfere with one another.
“If that is the case, then you absolutely cannot be permitted to exist!
There is only room for one treasury of this King under heaven and earth!”
The battle between the two sides escalated with terrifying intensity.
Right at the start of the engagement, Li Xiang had tossed out a subtle Noble Phantasm that carried a powerful “Mundane Banishment” and “Cognitive Distortion” effect, clearing the main thoroughfare of ordinary citizens.
However, under the unbridled and utterly reckless exchange of firepower between two peak-tier versions of the King of Heroes, a mere suggestive barrier was far from enough to mask the earth-shattering destruction.
Deafening explosions, pillars of golden light piercing the heavens, and an Underworld aura of death that seemed to dye the sky a dark, bruised crimson completely shattered the tranquility of Snowfield City’s night.
At this point, the sheer scale of their clash had inevitably drawn the attention of every hidden faction operating within the city.
In a neighborhood several kilometers away from the epicenter of the battle, Father Hansa, who had been actively hunting the Dead Apostle Jester under the cover of night, quickly spun his highly mechanized prosthetic eye, locking onto the distant skyline.
Sensing the trembling shockwaves rippling through the air, the priest couldn’t help but let out a low whistle as a drop of cold sweat rolled down his forehead.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa…
An exchange of this caliber?
Are they planning to sink all of Snowfield City straight into the bedrock?
Do modern Servants have absolutely no regard for the rules of secrecy?”
In the shadows nearby, the fleeing Dead Apostle Jester also halted his steps.
His twisted, manic expression softened into a look of absolute, depraved ecstasy as he greedily inhaled the scent of death drifting through the air.
Meanwhile, in the top-floor office of the Snowfield City Police Department, Director Orlando Reeve stood before a massive floor-to-ceiling window.
His fists were tightly clenched, his face pale with rage as he watched the distant night sky flicker violently with light.
On the desk behind him, the police radio continuously blared with frantic reports from officers across various sectors crying about “a massive explosion on the main thoroughfare” and “requesting immediate reinforcement.”
Even Flat Escardos, the prodigy from the Clock Tower staying a distance away, pressed his face curiously against his windowpane.
Watching the spectacular “fireworks” in the distance, he gasped in excitement, “Wow!
Mr.
Jack, look over there!
It looks like a super high-level magus duel!
Should we go check out the fun?”
Yet out of everyone, the person experiencing the deepest despair and agony at this very moment was none other than one of the masterminds behind the scenes, Faldeus Dioland.
Down in the highly secure underground monitoring room of City Hall, drone footage and hidden surveillance cameras were constantly looping high-definition playbacks of two golden figures beating the living daylights out of each other.
Faldeus was slumped ungracefully in his large command chair.
He felt like he didn’t just need stomach medicine; he felt like he needed an immediate shot of adrenaline straight to his heart.
Just last night, Gilgamesh and that Enkidu had thrown down in the desert outside the city.
That fight had been cataclysmic, with Noble Phantasms blasting a massive crater several kilometers wide right into the earth!
To cover it up from the public, Faldeus had been forced to sacrifice the reputation of a major natural gas provider, fabricating a ridiculous news story about an “unprecedented, cascading natural gas pipeline mega-explosion” to take the blame.
He thought that after surviving yesterday, things would quiet down a bit.
After all, even Servants needed to rest and replenish their magical energy.
Instead, earlier today, that Saber had casually demolished Snowfield City’s most famous opera house.
Then, standing atop the rubble in front of the entire city’s press corps, he had delivered a grand, mystical speech entirely centered on chivalric ideals!
And now, night had barely fallen, and these two individuals—who apparently harbored some profound, unspeakable blood feud—had decided to start a war right on the city’s main thoroughfare!
Judging by the apocalyptic scale of the destruction, they genuinely intended to completely erase this bustling commercial district from the map!
Faldeus took a deep breath, painfully pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyes entirely hollow with exhaustion.
Reflecting on the spectacular disasters these summoned heroes kept generating, Faldeus’s mental fortitude completely shattered.
Two guys who fought and opened up a massive crater in the desert outside the city.
One guy who smashed an opera house to pieces and delivered a speech about mystery directly to news reporters.
And now, on his monitors, these two who were about to physically level a downtown street just by squaring off!
“You blonde bastards…” Faldeus watched the blinding explosions on the screen and let out a wail from the very depths of his soul.
“Do you all just inherently love making the front-page news?!”