si-mexico Chapter 62 The King's Courtyard
Chapter 62 The King's Courtyard
The raindrops on a winter night were forcibly pushed aside by some invisible high-altitude force field the moment they touched the top of the skyscraper.
The top floor of this building is the courtyard of the Hero King, and in the courtyard of the Hero King, nothing uninvited is allowed, including rain.
Arthur walked steadily onto the open-air platform that overlooked most of Tokyo.
The star-patterned cloak was lifted by a corner by the night wind high in the sky, revealing the hilts of the two swords at her waist.
The air was filled with a suffocating aroma, the finest wine only found in the Age of Gods.
And the undisguised, scorching spiritual pressure belonging to the Golden King.
At the end of the platform, a magnificent throne constructed of golden magic floats half a foot above the ground.
Gilgamesh sat there, not wearing his iconic golden armor, but dressed in sophisticated modern casual clothes: a white shirt and black trousers.
Long, slender fingers swirled a crystal glass, the liquid inside amber-colored, gleaming heavily against the neon-lit night sky.
"Although I had expected you to appear, you arrived later than I anticipated, Holy Sword Wielder."
Gilgamesh did not turn around; his crimson serpentine eyes, reflected by the wine glass, stared at the silver figure behind him.
The curved surface of the crystal glass elongated Arthur's figure, and the hilt of the sword in the lake became a blurry blue in the crystal.
There was no murderous intent in his tone; instead, it carried a playful quality, like an art collector examining a treasure that didn't belong to him.
"I've kept you waiting, King of Heroes." Arthur stopped ten steps away from the throne.
His right hand rested lightly on the hilt of the holy sword. Even without drawing the sword, the Dragon Furnace within his body was faintly rumbling, resisting the oppressive force from the Age of Gods.
Gilgamesh put down his wine cup, finally turned around, and looked past Arthur's face, his gaze fixed on the holy sword at his waist.
"That Star Sword... no matter how many times you look at it, the brilliance it shines in your soul is enough to make all the collections in my treasury seem mediocre."
A hint of undisguised desire flashed in Gilgamesh's crimson vertical pupils.
That look wasn't greed; it was the hunger a collector feels when, after a lifetime of searching, they finally find the last missing piece of the puzzle, only to discover that the puzzle itself has chosen its owner.
"My previous proposal remains valid, provided you are willing to hand it over to me."
You may take any wealth in this world, the elixir of immortality, or even the power to rule this land.
He leaned forward, his vertical pupils reflecting the lake-blue light of the sword in the lake.
"Take all of these away. I only want that sword."
Arthur stared directly into those vertical pupils, which were more ancient than any other eyes. The four beats of the Dragon's Furnace remained steady as usual, not disrupted even by this divine pressure.
"My answer remains the same: this sword is not my property. It is a star-forged weapon, created by the planet itself, a guardian artifact that exists to fight against the star of destruction."
I have no right to exchange it, much less deliver it.
Gilgamesh snorted softly, showing no anger. He leaned back on his throne, picked up his wine cup again, and a half-smile played on his lips.
For him, a valuable treasure paired with a stubborn master only makes it more precious.
If Arthur actually agreed, he would find it boring.
"What an inflexible man."
So, what brings you here on this unusual night? Are you perhaps trying to declare war on me before the final battle?
Arthur took a step forward, walked to the edge of the platform, placed his hand on the railing, and looked down at the neon-lit city below.
The river flows in the distance, reflecting the lights of the bridges on its surface, and the traffic moves slowly like blood cells in the city's veins.
"I've come here to tell you that the foundation of this Holy Grail War is rotten."
Arthur said, "The so-called Holy Grail is nothing but a huge trap, corrupted by all the evil in this world."
I saw it; it was Angola Manuel—humanity's entire imagination of 'pure evil'.
The glass of wine you hold in your hand, the city beneath your feet, the sky above your head—everything tainted by the Holy Grail War is within its contamination range.
Regardless of who wins, the final wish made will be twisted into evil.
He tapped his finger lightly on the fence.
"Instead of killing each other here, let's end this pointless conflict."
"Oh?" Gilgamesh raised his eyebrows, revealing a mocking smile.
"Who do you think you're talking to? Everything on this earth is my property, including that tainted cup."
If this cup is a fake, destroying it is my right, and it is not for a British vagabond to interfere.
He placed the wine glass on the armrest of the throne, the amber liquid swirling gently in it, reflecting a faint, cold glint deep within his vertical pupils.
Arthur looked down at the city, at the flashing neon lights, at the ordinary people buying late-night snacks at convenience stores, and at the children sleeping in their apartments with the lights off.
Just as the atmosphere was about to become tense, Arthur's dragon eyes suddenly narrowed.
An extremely thin purple thread extends from somewhere in the city, passing through the earth's veins and the steel structure of the building, and is climbing up the railing along the edge of the platform.
"...Something's coming."
Almost at the same instant, Gilgamesh's gaze also darkened.
His previously languid sitting posture instantly straightened, and golden ripples, like those on the surface of water, began to appear in the surrounding space.
The ends of the purple threads were reflected in those crimson vertical pupils; those were the "marks" carried by the threads.
A very rudimentary, crude, yet extremely effective magic traction technique.
"Tsk, that damned witch, that nauseating magic attraction spell actually attracted that bastard."
"roar--!!!"
A roar powerful enough to shatter reinforced concrete came from below the building.
With a tremendous roar, the entire skyscraper trembled violently.
The reinforced railings at the edge of the platform groaned under the strain, crushed into scrap metal by a pair of huge, dark, veiny hands.
A dark shadow, as large as a small mountain, crashed through the concrete retaining wall at the edge of the building and landed heavily in the center of the rooftop.
Berserker, Hercules.
This greatest demigod in Greek mythology was now shrouded in ominous black mist.
After regaining its autonomy, the berserk form changed from the injected scarlet to a spontaneous dark red.
Those empty eyes held no rationality, only an impulse to destroy everything.
Around Hercules's once-powerful body, several thin, long magical threads emitting a purple glow could be faintly seen.
One end of the thread was attached to the back of his neck, while the other end disappeared into the void, into Medea's territory.
Medea collected Arthur's remaining magic power during his battle with Cú Chulainn.
But she didn't expect Arthur to be so impatient, going straight to the King of Heroes right after finishing a battle, which suited her just the way she wanted.
By luring Hercules here as well, they achieved three goals at once: using the berserker to wear down these two "kings." Regardless of who fell, it would be good news for the Linglong Pavilion family.
"Hercules...?" Arthur slowly drew his holy sword, the Wind King's Barrier spinning wildly on the blade. "We meet again."
"I'm not in a good mood when this pleasant experience is interrupted."
Gilgamesh stood up, and the space behind him cracked open, revealing countless golden vortexes that spread out behind him like a peacock's tail.
From shoulder to head, from left to right, it covered the entire night sky, and every ripple revealed the fierce sharpness of the divine artifact.
He looked at Arthur, then at the berserker roaring to the sky, and sneered:
"Arthur, didn't you say you wanted to 'end this war'? So, what are you going to do about this beast that's being led by the nose by the witch?"
Arthur drew the sword from the lake, its azure light flickering in the golden ripples.
"Fighting here will destroy the streets below," Arthur whispered, as his magic began to spread to his feet, forcibly stabilizing the collapsing rooftop.
"I will hold him off. As for you, King of Heroes... if you truly consider this world your own garden, then please do not let the aftershocks of your Noble Phantasm affect the innocent."
"Are you commanding me?" Gilgamesh narrowed his eyes, then let out a wild laugh.
"Hmph, interesting. Let me see... how you will contend with this great hero of the 'Twelve Trials'!"
"roar!"
Hercules moved, and his axe-sword, as thick as a door, whistled as it tore through the air, and came crashing down on Arthur's head.
There are no techniques, no feints, it's just "smashing," pure arm strength compressed to the extreme by a berserk frenzy.
Arthur's figure transformed into a silver flash, and the sword in the lake clashed violently with the axe sword, the resulting shockwave instantly overturning all the surrounding decorations.
The shockwave reached the edge of the platform, where it was stopped by an invisible force field. The courtyard of the Hero King did not allow the aftershocks to spill out.
The Golden King stood before his throne, coldly surveying the chaotic battle before him, while the treasure trove behind him had already locked onto the aura of the witch lurking in the shadows.
"The Holy Grail War is definitely starting to get interesting."