"So that's how it is. I didn't expect it to be you."
A cold voice echoed from a distance, sending a chill down the spines of everyone present.
The voice belonged to none other than Lord El-Melloi, Kayneth Archibald — the Master of Lancer, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne. The same man Waver Velvet had once tried so hard to impress… and now betrayed.
"I truly don't understand what's going through your head," Kayneth continued. "And to think, you've entered the Holy Grail War… Waver Velvet."
Waver froze as the voice pierced his soul, his breath catching. There was no mistaking that voice.
"This... this can't be..."
Of course, Waver knew who it was. As a high-ranking noble and lecturer at the Clock Tower, Kayneth had the resources to obtain multiple Holy Relics. It wasn't impossible for him to summon another Servant.
"I've always been fond of my students," Kayneth said mockingly. "Waver, you should have stayed in your room, living the life you deserved — meek and quiet."
His words felt like magic themselves. Waver found himself dazed, as if transported back to the classroom where Kayneth stood before him, gazing down with that same familiar mix of pity and disdain.
But Waver snapped out of it. No, he couldn't waver now.
He had taken what was meant to be Kayneth's — the relic, the Heroic Spirit. He had summoned Rider, and while his Servant could be a bit reckless, he was undeniably powerful.
They were enemies now. Truly. There could be no mercy.
Kayneth noticed the change in Waver's eyes and chuckled darkly.
"In that case, Waver Velvet, let me give you one final lesson — a lesson in how to kill."
Waver trembled even harder. Until now, war had always been an abstract concept, something he'd studied from the safety of his books. But now, it stood before him — real and terrifying.
Just as fear threatened to paralyze him, a strong, warm hand rested against his back.
It was rough, calloused — and reassuring.
"Oi! You unknown bastard," a booming voice laughed. "Trying to take my little Master away from me?"
Iskandar — Rider — stood tall, his grin fearless.
"Hahaha! That's a joke. My Master is a warrior who dares to charge into battle alongside me. Not a coward like you!"
The air turned heavy. Kayneth's fury clashed with Iskandar's roaring laughter.
Arthur clapped his hands. "Now that's how a king should speak."
Then he stepped forward, lifting his voice with righteous mockery.
"Come on, you so-called Heroic Spirits! Are you all mice, hiding in the shadows? Come out and play!"
Artoria and Diarmuid paused their duel, startled by his words.
"What's the matter, unknown Servant?" Artoria asked, confused by Arthur's tone.
Arthur didn't stop.
"Artoria, Diarmuid — your duel has drawn eyes. There's no way we're the only ones here. You others — the ones hiding — come out and face us!"
A few meters away, Irisviel shivered, fearing that Kiritsugu Emiya and their allies' location might be revealed. But Arthur already knew. His instincts as a king never failed him.
"Pathetic," Arthur declared. "Where is your courage? Where is your heroism?"
Iskandar roared with laughter beside him. "Heroic Spirits summoned into this world — do not disappoint me! Your legends should not be weeping at your cowardice!"
From afar, Tokiomi Tohsaka watched the scene with furrowed brows. "Do you really think such provocation will bring them out?"
Beside him, Kirei Kotomine nodded calmly. "Unlikely."
But the two magi underestimated the pride of ancient heroes.
Suddenly, golden light flared above them, blinding and regal. A figure appeared atop a streetlamp, bathed in resplendent brilliance.
Waver's breath hitched.
"That's… him…"
Even if it was only for a second, Waver remembered clearly — the man who obliterated Assassin in an instant. The golden Servant. Archer.
Gilgamesh looked down at the crowd with contempt burning in his crimson eyes.
"Are you all so insolent?" he sneered. "Two mongrels dare to call themselves kings… without this king's permission."
There was no holding back. Gilgamesh's arrogance wasn't born of showmanship — it radiated from the very core of his being.
Even Iskandar looked annoyed. He hadn't expected someone with an even bigger ego. It was irritating.
"Hmph! Say what you will, but I am the King of Conquerors," Iskandar replied, undeterred.
"Tch," Gilgamesh scoffed. "There is only one true king — me. The rest of you are insects crawling in the dirt."
The tension surged. Arthur, clearly irritated, stepped forward.
"If you're so high and mighty, why don't you tell us your true name?"
Iskandar, ever patient despite his rising anger, asked again. "Indeed. What king hides his name like a coward?"
Gilgamesh's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"You dare speak to me that way, mongrel?"
He was seething. But it wasn't just rage — it was disdain. Gilgamesh simply didn't think anyone here was worthy of knowing his name.
"Since you are so ignorant, I will not sully my glory by bending to your will!"
Arthur had had enough.
"Gilgamesh, you're going too far," he growled. "Artoria and Iskandar — they are true kings! Do not insult them with your arrogance."
Gilgamesh turned his venomous gaze on him. "You're an outdated relic. Don't presume to judge me."
He glared harder. "And as for you — we will settle our score. After I crush these fools, you're next."
Despite his words, it was clear: Arthur held a slightly higher place in Gilgamesh's eyes — though still nowhere near equal.
Then came the shift.
Ripples distorted the air beside Gilgamesh. One by one, golden portals began to bloom across the night sky, each revealing a brilliant weapon inside.
Swords, spears, halberds — treasures of unimaginable power shimmered like stars above them.
With a sweeping motion, Gilgamesh declared:
"Gate of Babylon — OPEN!"
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