Fate/False Order

"Irisviel!" Came the cry of relief of Artoria, as she turned a corner and locked eyes on her sleeping friend, who was held in the arms of Alistair.

The sight of her friend caused her to pick up speed, and she traversed the room in the blink of an eye, causing her to stand right in front of Alistair.

"Shhh!" I chided, while raising a finger to my lips. "She's asleep," I explained in a lowered voice.

My advice caused Artoria to look a bit more worried as she glanced at her friend. "How's her condition?"

"She's fine, if not far better than before. But it's best if you let her sleep, as her soul is getting used to her improved body," I explained, causing Artoria to glance up at me and nod slowly.

"I see," she said pensively, before glancing at Alistair. "Were there any complications, or anything regarding her new condition worth noting?"

The question caused Alistair to shrug. "There was nothing worth mentioning on my end, but as alchemy is something Vivian is more attuned to, that question is better posed to her," he explained, causing her to look at me.

Placing a finger on my chin, I tilted my head slightly and frowned slightly. "The only thing that comes to mind is that the Grail was very… possessive of her soul, making it incredibly hard to separate the two," I explained, before glancing at the fleshy Grail and squinting my eyes.

"Truth be told, it has been trying to pull it back into itself," I said with a frown, before shrugging and looking back at Artoria. "Not that the Grail is capable of pulling her back into it, but being close to it might have adverse effects on her condition."

The comment made her look up at the Grail with slight aversion. "I see…"

Opening her mouth to speak, Artoria was interrupted by the sound of metal heels hurriedly clacking, causing her to turn around. Just in time to see Rosalind turn the corner, with a mildly annoyed look on her face.

"I am sorry for leaving once I heard the news," Artoria said, while giving a small bow to Rosalind, whose expression became far smoother at the sudden apology.

Shaking her head slightly, Rosalind stopped her jog when she was a few meters away from us, substituting it with a slow walk instead. "It is fine, I can understand your eagerness," she accentuated her statement with a slight shrug, before glancing at the three of us. "Did I interrupt something?"

That question caused Artoria to look back at me and Alistair, not fully turning around. "Yes, I was wondering what I should do," she half-stated half-asked.

"I recommend leaving," Alistair said, while slightly lifting Irisviel for emphasis. "Staying here is not good for either of you, as the Grail is incredibly unstable. And if Rider's words were anything to go off on, he felt increasingly uneasy around it, so I'm starting to theorize that it is trying to pull more Servants into it."

Alistair's theory caused Artoria to frown and fully turn to face us. "I too have been feeling uneasy, though I never imagined it was the Grail's doing," she stated neutrally.

"We suspect that some of the barriers around it are to weaken the Grail's effects, but with Caster entering the Grail, its absorption effect has increased thanks to the increase of energy," I lied smoothly, knowing full well that the effects she was feeling was due to a Bounded Field of uneasiness that was made to target Servants.

The lie made her frown deepen. "I see… is this why Rider and his Master have left?" She questioned, causing Alistair to nod. "Yes, we thought it prudent for them to leave, as Servants being here seems to agitate the Grail in its current condition," he explained calmly, earning a slow nod from Artoria.

"I presume you'd ask me to leave then?" She questioned, earning an amused smile from Alistair. "Well, I'd rather frame it as you bringing her home," he said while lightly lifting Irisviel for emphasis.

At his statement, she glanced at her friend, before looking back at Alistair. "You speak true, but leaving you three here unguarded leaves me with a bitter taste in my mouth," she asserted, causing me to step forwards.

"While the help is much appreciated, we are capable of handling this ourselves, and frankly if we turn off the Grail's suppressants, this place would become a deathtrap for any Servant foolish enough to attack us," I explained while flashing a smile.

My confidence seemed to be doing me some favor, as Artoria merely looked at me for a while before nodding. "I see," she asserted, before turning around and keeling. "Then I shall take my leave, please put Irisviel on my back, I'd rather be able to use my sword if the situation called for it," she explained.

Alistair quickly obliged, lowering himself, he gently placed Irisviel on her back, while adjusting his mantle around her, to make sure it wouldn't loosen while Artoria was carrying her.

Using a spare arm to fasten Irisviel to herself, Artoria slowly stood up, making sure her friend was comfortable.

With that done, Artoria moved to position herself to look at the three of us. "First, I must thank you for helping me save Irisviel, something I am sure that I would have been incapable of doing, even if I had succeeded in eliminating Caster," she said with a slight bow, her face showing a bright smile.

At the show of gratitude, Rosalind only crossed her arms, while slightly tilting her head to the side, a slightly amused look on her face. "As I said before, it was partially our fault that she was captured, so it's only right that we help in cleaning up the mess," she said humbly, something to which Alistair nodded along to her words.

Artoria only shook her head, bowing once more. "Then please, just accept my gratitude for the help. I am still beyond grateful for the help," she explained.

Ending her bow, she straightened her posture. "Thankful as I am, I must be on my way. If it is as you theorize, she is still in danger by staying here, so I must make haste," she explained.

Her words drew nods from both Alistair and Rosalind, but not me.

Before she could move, I spoke up. "Artoria," I said, causing her to look at me with a raised brow.

Pointing a thumb at the exit, I sent her a smile. "I need to check up on a few things, mind if I follow you out?"

The question drew only a nod from her, causing me to smile.

Looking at the others I gave them a wink. "I'll be out for…" my words trailed off as I bobbed my head from side to side. "Ten… maybe twenty minutes, I need to check if there are any nasty surprises further down stairs," I explained, causing the others to nod.

"Be careful, I'm fairly sure we killed all of the golems, but you never know," Rosalind said, causing me to nod. "Yeah, hence why I'll be following our resident meat-shield for a bit," I said with a wink.

Both Rosalind and Alistair gave me amused looks, while Artoria gave a dubious look to contrast them. "I see…"

Patting her shoulder as I moved past her, I walked over to the exit while giving a slight wave of my hand. "I'll see you all in a bit," I said with a smile, before exiting the room.

Not long after, Artoria followed me, quickly placing herself next to me as we made our way down the building.

The silence between us hung for a moment, before Artoria broke it. "What is it you wanted to speak to me about?" She questioned.

Seeing that she had caught on, I turned my head to look at her, allowing me to meet her eyes. "I want a promise from you," I said, causing Artoria to raise a brow.

"What brought this on?" She questioned, earning a sigh from me. "It's more a precaution for us all, so don't worry too much," I explained.

Seeing her remaining quiet, I brought out my request. "Please don't come back to this building, unless either Rosalind, Alistair or I invite you back," I said, causing her to frown lightly.

This was more of a precaution… I was all but assured that she'd die in her upcoming clash with Lancelot, but having a backup plan was never a bad thing to have. After all, I'd rather minimize Artoria's contact with the Grail, so as to not fall into the same pitfall known as the ending of Fate/Zero.

"That is a… unique request," she said with some steel. "May I ask why you would ask such a thing from me?"

Turning my head to look forwards, I responded in a tired voice. "The Grail is unstable," I started off, adding a slight slouch to my posture to sell my performance better. "We were incredibly lucky that nothing happened when three Servants were fighting around it, but now that another has entered it, it has started acting up," I explained with a hint of annoyance.

"Alistair and I need to somehow stabilize it before it accidentally sucks in some Servant, probably leading to its issues being exacerbated. And you, or any other Servant being close to it will only give us problems," I said while turning to look back at Artoria, whose look now displayed concern.

"Is it truly that bad?" She questioned, causing me to nod. "Caster's theory on it being cursed is all but confirmed from my and Alistair's perspective, but we still need to confirm and then see if we can purify it, or find some other workaround," I explained.

Artoria looked mildly devastated at the news, causing me to go back to my point. "So please, don't return," I stated neutrally.

Artoria looked apprehensive at the request, only to sigh. "I understand," she said, causing me to slightly squint my eyes at her. "Promise it," I pressed, causing her to sigh. "I promise not to return here, unless invited by yourself or my family," she said, causing me to nod with satisfaction.

"Good," I exclaimed, before reaching into my satchel, bringing out a phone. "Here," I said while extending it to Artoria, who looked at it with some confusion. "It's for Irisviel, when she wakes up," I explained, causing her to slightly widen her eyes, and gratefully accept the gift.

After all, I wouldn't be so cruel as to not give Irisviel any way to contact her husband when her Servant died 'protecting' her… or at least Alistair wasn't so cruel.

Smiling, I patted her shoulder, before moving away. "This is my floor," I explained, causing her to nod. "I'll probably at least hear from you tomorrow, if not see you at our place," I said, causing her to smile.

"That is good, then I shall hopefully see you tomorrow," Artoria said, causing me to give her a small wave. "See you soon," I said while moving away from the stairway, entering a new corridor.

As I left her line of sight, I waited for her footsteps to vanish, before sinking into the shadows.

For now, I needed to ferry a troublesome priest and two assassins to meet each other into their assigned trap.

Only once I got them on the right track would I be able to do the same to Gilgamesh.

It was time to bring this to an end.

~~Fate/False Order~~

"Rider," Waver said, voice tight with apprehension. "That's…"

He didn't finish. Over on the other side of the wide lane, as if waiting for them with perfect poise, stood yet another figure. Rider followed Waver's pointing gesture and answered with a firm nod, as though confirming his young partner's silent question.

Standing there on the bridge, illuminated as if by broad daylight, was a figure of brilliantly golden splendor, appearing all the more majestic under the artificial lights—lights that seemed pathetically counterfeit compared to his radiance. His cold, remorseless, deep crimson eyes shot a chill through Waver's bones even at this distance, freezing him in place with sheer terror. There could be no doubt: this was Servant Archer, the King of Heroes—Gilgamesh.

In truth, Waver had prepared himself for this encounter. He had known from the start that sooner or later, they would cross paths again. No matter the mental rehearsal, however, the real intimidation felt overwhelming, crushing the heart's defenses and forcing a raw ache of fear into his soul.

Rider, aware of the quiver coursing through Waver's frame, spoke in a low, resonant voice. "You scared, boy?"

Waver swallowed hard. There was no point in feigning bravery. "Yeah," he confessed, forcing honesty rather than lying to himself or to Rider. "I'm scared. Or, I guess in your words, 'my heart is jumping with excitement.'"

The King of Conquerors let out a hearty chuckle. "That's exactly it. When the enemy is mighty, the yearning for the sweet wine of victory becomes the greatest bliss." His grin turned sharper. "So you do understand."

They both knew this was the third time they had encountered Gilgamesh. It would almost certainly be the last. No other obstacles on this bridge could stop either one of them. Only the other stood in each king's path. The entire four-lane roadway was their stage, and the inevitability of it felt fated.

Bucephalus, Rider's beloved steed, pawed at the concrete, sensing his master's tension. Rider leaned forward and gave the horse's mane a quick scratch, as though reassuring the faithful animal.

"Boy," Rider said, addressing Waver without looking back, "wait here for now."

Waver blinked. "Huh?"

But Rider had already started forward, walking with a purposeful composure toward Gilgamesh, whose golden armor shimmered in the night. Almost in tandem, Archer moved from his position as well, meeting Rider halfway. Their steps resounded on the pavement with the gravity of fate itself.

Rider and Gilgamesh were no ordinary swordsmen clashing over mere skill. Kings, by nature, needed to uphold their sovereignty in every gesture, including the etiquette of how they confronted each other. So, in that measured gait, there was as much of a struggle over tyranny as there was about to be over blade-work.

Gilgamesh was the first to speak, voice filled with regal impatience. "Rider, where is your vaunted chariot?"

Rider responded with a casual shrug. "Ah, that. Well, Saber's descendant advised me to keep a lower profile, hoping not to draw attention. Didn't work out in the end, as you can see."

Archer's blood-hued eyes narrowed, surveying Rider's entire bearing. "Yet you stand before me now without so much as calling forth your chariot. I was promised some amusement by that witch if I came here, but so far, you disappoint me, Rider."

Rider merely rolled his broad shoulders, utterly unfazed. "That's the witch's affair, not mine. Tonight, I, Iskandar, stand before you in the flesh. My army is always but a summons away, and my chariot ready to roar across the horizon. But mark my words, King of Heroes—tonight, Alexander stands beyond reproach."

Gilgamesh, rather than ridiculing Rider's apparently erratic challenge, studied him instead with that same penetrating gaze. "I see. So your confidence is genuine. Evidently, you have your own means of seizing victory, if you're this sure of yourself."

Without letting Archer's words rattle him, Rider's lips curved into a bold grin. "Hey, Archer," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "We reached a conclusion at our banquet, didn't we?"

Gilgamesh gave a lofty nod. "That we would have no choice but to kill one another."

Rider's face lit with a smile that seemed almost too amicable for the present circumstances. "We also agreed to finish off the wine before that happened, remember?"

Unbelievably, in this lethal standoff, Rider reached out as if inviting Gilgamesh to share a drink. "Some fools wrecked our banquet back then, but I recall there was still some left in the bottle."

Gilgamesh let out a dry laugh. "You are as sharp as ever when it comes to the possessions of others. As expected of the King of Conquest."

The golden Servant summoned forth from his vault a small wine set, complete with cups and the leftover vintage from the Age of the Gods. Archer emptied the dregs of the bottle equally into two cups. They tapped them together in a stately gesture reminiscent of boxers touching gloves before a bout.

Rider lifted his goblet. "King of Babylonia," he said, voice turning solemn, "I have one last proposal for you."

Gilgamesh raised a brow. "You may speak."

Looking like a mischievous youth and a grand monarch all at once, Rider declared, "If my Ionion Hetairoi were equipped by your Gate of Babylon, there's no telling the heights we could reach together. Not even that president in the West would amount to more than a passing breeze. So, I ask again—will you not join me? Together, we can conquer to the ends of the stars."

The King of Heroes let out an unrestrained laugh, the kind that might erupt from hearing an extremely entertaining joke. "Ah, how very amusing you are. It's been quite a while since I've laughed at something other than a clown's nonsense."

Though Gilgamesh laughed, his eyes didn't lose their edge. "A pity indeed, but I need only one companion—past, present, or future. There's no need for another. My throne tolerates no second."

Rider simply nodded. "A high and lonely kingship, indeed. Still, I will challenge it out of respect."

Gilgamesh's lips curved into a disdainful smile. "Very well. Display your full strength, King of Conquerors. You are a worthy foe for my judgment."

They both drained their cups, discarded them, and turned away in unison. Rider headed back to where Waver waited; Archer strolled back to his own vantage.

Waver, who had witnessed their toast with stiff shoulders, let out a shaky breath as Rider rejoined him. He couldn't resist asking, "Do you two… actually get along?"

Rider gave a slight shrug. "Well, we're about to kill each other. He may well be the last adversary I face in my entire life, so I won't be ungrateful to him."

"Don't say foolish things," Waver muttered. He clenched his teeth, lifting his right hand to display his three Command Seals—all still intact.

"You won't be dying tonight," the boy said with surprising firmness, catching Rider's attention. The King of Conquerors turned, eyes widening a fraction. Clearly, he hadn't expected Waver to speak with such conviction.

Waver understood all too well how dangerous Gilgamesh was. Rider, too, fully respected Archer's power. The mismatch was stark, but Waver refused to acknowledge a hopeless fight.

"I command you, Rider—kill Archer!"

A bright red flash lit the night, and the first Command Seal disappeared from Waver's hand.

"Fight with all your might!"

A second surge of red mana flickered around them, and the second Seal vanished.

"And finally…" Waver's voice trembled with emotional urgency. "I order you to win the Grail War!"

The final Seal evaporated in a third burst of red light. His entire set of Command Seals—gone. Only faint embers of power lingered in his palm.

Stunned, Rider stared, wide-eyed, before breaking into a fierce grin as mana crackled around him. "Hah! I wouldn't have it any other way, boy!"

With a broad sweep of his arm, he summoned forth a large, dark horse out of thin air. The creature whinnied and stamped the asphalt, eyes bright with reflected starlight. Rider, still grinning, slid onto the saddle and drew the sword that hung at his waist.

Casting his gaze down to Waver, he gave a small nod of approval. "Well, boy, what do you say? Ride with me?"

Waver looked up, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. His expression alone said, "You really need to ask?" Rider's laugh rumbled across the bridge, and he snatched Waver by the back of his jacket, hauling him into position in front of the saddle.

"Gather, my brethren!" Rider bellowed. "Tonight, we shall carve our gallant forms into the mightiest of legends!"

A wave of heat-laced wind buffeted the bridge, scattering the river's drifting mist. The Heroic Spirits who once fought beneath Alexander the Great were summoned from beyond mortal confines. They spiraled around Rider's sword, almost as though carried on the swirl of sand from the farthest deserts.

Waver blinked, trying to take it all in. When Ionion Hetairoi materialized, the very space around them warped. The illusions of city lights morphed into a vast plain bathed in swirling dust devils. A deep blue sky and a horizon wavering in the heat haze spread before them in all directions. Each warrior galloped into position, ready to do battle at their king's bidding.

Breathing hard, Waver felt the same astonishment he had felt the first time he had witnessed Ionion Hetairoi. Even now, fully aware of this Noble Phantasm's significance—the embodiment of Alexander's kingship—he found himself overwhelmed by its sheer grandeur. These were the shining elites of a cavalry that spanned time and death, ever ready to answer the King of Conquerors' call.

Rider's voice thundered over the assembly. "Our foe is the King of Heroes! Mightier than tens of thousands, lacking in no regard. Show him our might, heroic warriors! Let us demonstrate our tyranny to that ancient Heroic Spirit!"

The knights erupted into a united battle cry that roared across the plain like a tidal wave. At the far end, framed in gold, stood the lone Archer, his posture unwavering. The clamor of thousands didn't cause him the slightest tremor of doubt. Bathed in the golden sheen of his armor, Gilgamesh looked like a lone mountain unperturbed by storms.

"Come, lord of the vanquishers," Gilgamesh declared, a proud sneer on his lips. "Now behold the true form of a king…"

With that, Rider's cavalry advanced in a wedge formation, Bucephalus charging at the forefront. Rider's ferocious war cry shook the air, each knight adding their voices. Amid that cacophony, Waver summoned every bit of courage he could and joined in with a ragged yell:

"AAAALaLaLaLaie!!"

Hooves rumbled, sand whipped in waves, and Ionian Hetairoi surged forward. Yet, across from this immense host, Gilgamesh did not so much as shift his footing. His crimson eyes blazed with a savage, almost joyful anticipation. He alone, among all the Heroic Spirits, had the experience of exhausting every pleasure this world could offer. Now, at last, he had found a battle that ignited him.

"In truth," Gilgamesh said softly, "this is a pleasing sight. I have grown weary of farces called battles. But you, Rider, have given me a worthy challenge."

He regarded the charging Ionian Hetairoi with a smug inclination of his head, and then, raising one hand, summoned the Gate of Babylon. "All these dreams, strung together in a vain attempt at tyranny," he remarked. "But have you recognized it yet? Dreams are meant to end."

A golden portal shimmered above his outstretched hand, dropping into his grip a curious sword-hilt with complicated metal segments for a handle.

The King of Heroes twisted the hilt, and a crimson line of energy burst from its tip, branching like living lightning into the sky. After a heartbeat, a single blazing orb traveled along the pattern and disappeared into the weapon.

In a blinding flash, the key-like sword gave way to an even larger golden portal, from which emerged a bizarre weapon.

It had a regular grip and guard, its length reminiscent of a longsword. But the "blade" was composed of three cylindrical sections aligned side by side, rotating in a spiral pattern at the tip.

These segments turned slowly, grinding in an unearthly rhythm. The power radiating from it swelled beyond measurement, an intensity so potent that it pressed on the senses like a physical weight.

Gilgamesh's eyes flicked toward Rider's onrushing cavalry. "And thus, it is only natural that I be the one to stand in your way, King of Conquerors." He raised the primordially ancient sword high over his head. "Now," he growled, "behold the truth that brings an end to your unfulfilled dream."

Rider felt Bucephalus tense beneath him. Through raw instinct, he realized Gilgamesh was about to unleash an attack of unfathomable magnitude. Gritting his teeth, Rider muttered, "It's coming!" He intended to let Gilgamesh strike first; Ionian Hetairoi needed only survive that initial blow, then they would swarm the golden king before he could strike again.

The sword roared, a tempest swirling around it as cosmic-levels of mana coalesced. Gilgamesh's voice thundered with godlike authority: "Awaken, Ea. A stage befitting you has been set!"

This sword—named Ea after the Mesopotamian deity who once separated Heaven from Earth—was the Sword of Rupture, the primordial blade present at the creation of the world. Its role was to carve chaos itself into Heaven and Earth.

"Know the law of heaven! Revere me—and perish!"

Now, in Gilgamesh's hands, it whirled and ground out cataclysmic gusts, as though re-enacting creation.

Gilgamesh's shout reverberated through the swirling winds. "Enuma Elish!"

Heaven screamed; Earth shook. An immeasurable wave of energy blasted forth, fracturing the boundaries of space. Gilgamesh hadn't aimed at one soldier or another. He was simply tearing reality itself. Nothing in the path of that destructive vortex could remain unaffected.

Rider, urging Bucephalus onward, watched in horror as the ground in front of him cracked open, creating a yawning chasm. "Hmn?!"

With a desperate groan, Rider pulled hard on the reins. Bucephalus couldn't stop, not at that speed, so the horse leaped with all its might, launching both Rider and Waver into the air. The moment seemed to stretch, hearts pounding, until Bucephalus' hooves found purchase on the other side of the fissure. Rider managed a quick glance over his shoulder and paled at the sight behind them.

Their fellow cavalrymen were not so fortunate. Those who couldn't leap so far fell in a horrifying chain reaction, plummeting into the abyss. The knights in the rear ranks screeched to a halt just in time. And even that was only the beginning of the catastrophe.

"Boy, hang on!" Rider barked, one hand clamped on Waver, the other gripping the mane. The entire plain trembled, as if each segment of Ionian Hetairoi began to collapse. The fissure widened, devouring soldiers, horses, even the air itself as space bent under the force of Ea's blow.

"T-This is…" Waver's voice quivered, his eyes locked on the terrible scene unfolding.

The Sword of Rupture was rending not just earth but the entire world. Cracks snaked upward, clawing through empty air, warping and sucking the atmosphere into a chaotic vacuum. Soldiers, horses, the swirling sands—everything was swallowed, one after another. Ionian Hetairoi's grand desert terrain disintegrated like a broken hourglass, draining into the void.

Even the King of Conquerors found himself momentarily speechless. This was Ea, an Anti-World Noble Phantasm, far beyond even Anti-Fortress. It did not merely destroy matter; it re-created the fundamental distinction of Heaven and Earth by tearing the old shape apart.

Heaven collapsed; Earth shattered into darkness. And in that darkness, only the swirling sword in Gilgamesh's hand shone like a small, merciless star of genesis.

Rider and Waver never saw the final devastation. The moment more than half of Ionian Hetairoi was lost, the Reality Marble itself frayed at the seams and collapsed. Space rippled back to normal, returning them to the nighttime stillness of the Fuyuki Bridge as though they'd merely awakened from a dream.

Bucephalus touched down on the asphalt, and the King of Heroes stood where he had before, a bewitching smile on his face. The only difference from before was the Sword of Rupture, still revolving and growling in Gilgamesh's hand—and the absence of Rider's Ionian Hetairoi.

"Rider…" Waver turned to his Servant, whose face had turned grim. Despite that sternness, Rider managed a soft note in his voice.

"Come to think of it," Rider said, "there's something I need to ask you."

Waver blinked. "Huh?"

Waver felt a stirring in his chest as Rider spoke his name for the first time in that earnest tone. "Waver Velvet," Rider said. "Will you serve me?"

For an instant, Waver's heart leapt into his throat. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes. He had yearned for such words, even if it had once felt impossible to hear them. The answer sprang forth without hesitation.

"You—" he began, swallowing back a sob. Then, more firmly, "You are my King. I will serve you. I'll give everything for you. Please, guide me. Let me see the same dream."

Hearing that vow, the King of Conquerors smiled—a proud, reassuring smile that was worth more to Waver than any treasure.

"Hm, very well," Rider acknowledged. Yet, as soon as those words left his lips, he scooped Waver up out of the saddle and deposited him gently onto the cold road surface.

Caught off guard, Waver found himself gazing up at the mounted Rider, abruptly aware of how small he was compared to that grand figure. Rider looked down at him with unwavering kindness.

"It's a King's duty to fulfill the dream," Rider explained. "And a servant's duty to bear witness to that dream…and pass it on."

So high on his saddle that Waver's arms couldn't possibly reach, the King of Conquerors regarded his newly sworn retainer. "Live, Waver. Stay alive, see everything to the end, and tell the world of your King—tell them of Alexander's spirit."

Bucephalus let out a strident neigh, his hoofbeats echoing across the night. Whether it was meant for the King who would soon meet his fate, or for the young retainer entrusted with so heavy a burden, was unclear.

Waver bowed his head, tears clinging to his lashes. He gave no voice to his acceptance, but Rider understood. Words were needless. From this moment forth, he was forever guided by the King's example. Death meant little in the face of such an eternal oath.

"Now, Bucephalus, onward to conquest!" Rider bellowed, driving his heels into his beloved horse. The final enemy still stood at the far side of the bridge: Gilgamesh. Rider roared, raw emotion crashing against the starry darkness.

He was the greatest strategist of the age, yet no plan existed here beyond the direct assault. The King of Conquerors had no illusions; the King of Heroes was all but invincible. But that was irrelevant to Alexander's spirit.

No resignation weighed on his heart. No despair. Only a scorching thrill filled him to the brim.

Strong—too strong, perhaps. Gilgamesh tore the world asunder. Thus, he could be called the strongest enemy in the heavens and on the earth. What better final foe could the King of Conquerors ask for? Surmounting this one last obstacle meant glimpsing the end of the world. How could Alexander refuse?

"To Philotimo," he roared into the wind, urging himself onward. The King of Heroes, eyes narrowed in fascination, opened the Gate of Babylon, unleashing volley after volley of Noble Phantasms. Twenty, forty, then eighty, shimmering across the night like lethal stars.

"AAAALaLaLaLaie!!" Rider cried once more, leaning low over Bucephalus' neck.

Blinding glitters of Noble Phantasms poured forth, a golden meteor shower. They pounded against Rider and Bucephalus relentlessly. Pain flared with each impact, but Rider refused to slow.

At some point, a final strike took Bucephalus. The next moment, Rider found himself sprinting on foot, possibly near the very end of his strength. He didn't know where his loyal horse had collapsed, but he could not afford to stop or grieve. Each step forward was a tribute to those who had fallen under his command.

Gilgamesh muttered something—likely a sardonic remark—but Rider didn't hear it. The only sound that reached his ears was the ceaseless pounding of waves on a faraway shore. The memory of a dream he had seen once in Asia Minor returned: the crashing of Oceanus at the ends of the earth.

He laughed through labored breaths, blood soaking him. "AHAHAHAHA!" Because indeed, he realized: the sea at the world's end was still waiting in his heart.

Only a step or two more, and his blade could reach Gilgamesh's golden crown. "Haaaah—!" Rider swung the Sword of the Cypriots in an arc of pure conviction.

Time elongated in that crucial instant—an almost eternal second. Then, with a harsh rattle of chains, Rider's entire body halted. Tough, intricate links bound his sword, limbs, torso, everything: Enkidu, the ultimate chain that once subdued the Bull of Heaven.

Rider gave a derisive little chuckle. "Good grief…all these strange treasures, one after another…" Blood dribbled from his lips, and his half-raised sword never found its target. Meanwhile, Gilgamesh's Ea bored into Rider's chest. Its revolving mechanism churned away within his vital organs.

Gilgamesh's eyes bored into him. "Have you awakened from your dream, King of Conquerors?"

Rider inhaled, exhaling the faintest sigh of resignation—and yet, peace. "Yes…I suppose I have…"

Once more, the dream went unfulfilled. But that was all right. He had wagered his life on a similar dream before in the distant past. Now, in these eastern lands, he had dreamed it a second time.

A gentle smile crossed his lips as he thought, If I can see the same dream twice, then maybe I'll see it a third time…

"This expedition," he murmured, eyes growing hazy, "has been…a most enjoyable one…"

At that, Gilgamesh nodded, looking solemn. "You may challenge me as many times as you wish, King of Conquerors." It was a grand tribute to his dying foe, genuine admiration from the King of Heroes. "This world will ever be my garden, so long as time endures. You shall never find it tiresome."

"Ooh…that's…good…to hear," Rider breathed.

Moments later, pinned by Enkidu and skewered by countless Noble Phantasms, Servant Rider vanished.

In reality, only a few seconds had passed since Rider began his charge. Yet for Waver, who witnessed every instant with unblinking eyes, it could have been an eternity.

He could never forget it, even if he wanted to. Those final seconds were burned so deeply into his soul that no force could ever erase them.

Alone, Waver stood on the asphalt where Rider had set him down. He couldn't move, could barely remain upright. If he tried taking even one step, his legs threatened to buckle. But he absolutely refused to fall to his knees.

Gilgamesh, his red eyes still aglow with that lethal brilliance, approached. Waver locked his gaze ahead, forcing himself not to flinch. To look away would mean death. His body shook from terror, but his eyes stayed open.

The golden Servant halted before him, speaking in a voice devoid of mercy. "Boy, are you Rider's Master?"

Waver's throat, scratchy from the dryness of fear, nonetheless released words. He shook his head, surprising himself with the steadiness of his tone. "No," he rasped. "I'm…his servant."

Gilgamesh's gaze flicked over him, noting the complete absence of Command Seals. "I see. But if you're truly faithful to your fallen King, shouldn't you strike at me to avenge him?"

Waver's heartbeat thundered in his ears, but he answered again. "If I challenge you…I'll die."

"Of course," Gilgamesh replied coldly.

"I can't do that," Waver continued. "He…he told me to live."

He had been ordered not to perish here. To do otherwise was inconceivable. The crushing irony was that the single path to survival was to not fight at all, even though vengeance might be the only honorable choice. Yet Waver would not dishonor the King's last command.

Though trembling in every limb, Waver refused to avert his gaze. Gilgamesh observed him impassively for what felt like an endless moment, then gave one small nod of acknowledgment.

"Devotion is a difficult path," he said. "Do not stain it."

With that, Gilgamesh walked past him. He had no reason to kill a "mongrel" who neither stood as a Master nor plotted treachery. Waver's entire being was frozen in place until Gilgamesh's golden figure vanished past him.

The wind cut across the Fuyuki Bridge, scattering the last fragments of tension. Waver, left alone, understood that everything had finally come to an end.

His legs nearly gave way at the realization that he was somehow still alive. Yet he clenched his fists, refusing to collapse, holding Rider's final mandate in his heart and letting the tears come silently in the night.

While Waver drowned in his sorrow, Gilgamesh marched on, having grown impatient at the Witches' seeming disregard to his person. So much so that she had used him to kill one of her unknowing pawns.

Naturally, the King of Heroes enjoyed the fight, for the short while it lasted, but he was left dissatisfied knowing it was all a part of the Witch's plan to thin the herd.

This annoyance came to a screeching halt at the sudden intrusion of an all too familiar voice. "Gil?"

Slowly, the king moved his head to find the voice. In but a moment, blood red eyes met clear blue eyes, and his world stilled for but a moment.

In the entrance of an alley stood a man in white robes, waist long green hair, and a face wearing a happy smile. The robes, the hair, the face, and even the voice, it could only be one person, yet Gilgamesh knew it was not true.

Enkidu was not summoned, if so, he'd have known it until now, meaning one thing.

That thing was a fake.

A fake…

Gilgamesh's face contorted to a degree that had rarely even been seen in his life, his body trembled as he stared at the mockery of his one true friend standing in front of him.

And as if to reflect his anger, dozens of portals sprouted to life around Gilgamesh, each one pointed straight at the FAKER.

The smile on the clay golem's face became even more sincere, before it started to change. Its form turned brown, cracks littered its body, before it started to crumble.

The sight of the poorly made imitation destroying itself in a fashion far too close to how he had seen his friend die only inflamed his rage to new heights, as the filthy golem had not given him the satisfaction of destroying it himself.

But as he fumed, dozens of new voices were heard, each one echoing the same thing. "Gil!"

Hearing the same voice once more, Gilgamesh turned his head, but this time he saw multiple copies of Enkidu standing atop buildings, sitting on window rims, or standing atop other elevated platforms.

This time, Gilgamesh was prepared.

Dozens of portals opened within the blink of an eye, and before any of them could crumble to dust, each golem became impaled with a weapon, blasting them apart.

The action caused dust and debris to fly and cloud the air, making the terrain foggy and difficult to see through.

As Gilgamesh stood alone on the streets, silently fuming to himself, a melodic laughter echoed through the streets.

In an instant, the King of Heroes' eyes locked onto the distance, unencumbered by the dust in the air, he saw a lone woman perched atop a building, swinging her legs over the ledge as her veiled face looked his way.

The instant he saw her, dozens of portals spewed countless weapons in her direction.

But before any of them could make contact, she vanished into her shadow, causing the rooftop she was sitting atop to be bombarded by Gilgamesh's weapons, wiping it out of existence.

Gilgamesh knew that the vile witch was provoking him, trying to lure him into a trap… but what king, no, what friend would he be if he allowed his one and only friend's face and likeness to be besmirched so egregiously in front of him, without retaliating.

Tightening his grip on Ea, he took a step forward.

The Witch was going to suffer, and Gilgamesh would make sure of it.

—

5 Hours, 33 Minutes And 25 Seconds Until Zero 

—

----

A/N

Welcome back, my reader Overlords, please add this to your library and give me some comments, stones and reviews, as it would be much appreciated.

Jesus, I am on a roll, another 6K+ word chapter. I am simply him!

I was going to post yesterday, but I received a case of what we believe to be food poisoning, so i have been stuck to the toilet for these past few days. Though luckily, I could really on a lot of the source material for this chapter, allowing me to write so much with ease.

Before anyone points it out, yes I could have done it defiantly, I even had a few thoughts, but as I have been bedridden these past few days, I wasn't feeling too creative, so I stuck with the source martial for my own convenience. A pity, I know.

Now, any thoughts? Predictions? I am interested...

https://discord.gg/HAPhryp5M2

Now I'm sick, puking and shitting almost every hour! So have a nice day, or at least one less shitty than mine, and send me some stones or some shit (Not literal shit), as I need motivation to overcome this illness!