Chapter Sixty-Eight: There Cannot Be Two Suns in the Sky

After completing his daily routine call with Tokiomi Tohsaka, Kirei Kotomine descended into the basement he had fashioned for himself.

“Master.”

Before he even crossed the threshold, Assassin’s warning echoed from behind.

As expected, upon pushing open the door, he found an unwelcome guest sprawled upon the most comfortable sofa in the small room. The fine wines Kirei had collected out of simple appreciation were scattered haphazardly across the floor, most of them already emptied—clearly, the intruder had been drinking alone for quite some time.

“Archer? To what do I owe this visit?” Kirei asked, somewhat surprised. He knew that thanks to Archer’s remarkable skill of independent action, Tokiomi had no idea what his Servant was up to during the day, but this was the first time Archer had sought him out directly.

The golden spirit, unlike his usual appearance clad in armor, wore a modern ensemble of a jacket and leather pants.

“I simply couldn’t bear that tedious fellow any longer. His woeful cries, deserving of punishment, have grown dull to my ears,” Archer replied.

“Even after suffering such grievous wounds, Master stubbornly forces himself to heal with magical potions, maintains basic mobility, and now must deal with the turmoil caused by your battle with Lancer. I think Master’s response has been more than admirable.”

That day, after being summoned back by Tokiomi, Archer, seething with unspent fury, had attacked Tokiomi without hesitation. Several noble phantasms pierced Tokiomi’s body, pinning him harshly to the wall. Despite his rage, Gilgamesh spared the man’s life, crediting Tokiomi’s former respectful behavior, but made no effort to free his Master. It was only when Kirei’s routine call went unanswered, prompting him to investigate the Tohsaka household, that he finally rescued Tokiomi, who hung on the wall like a roasted duck.

Even though their attitudes remained unchanged, the event had left an undeniable fissure between Master and Servant.

But Gilgamesh clearly had no intention of letting Tokiomi off the hook.

“When I heard that man’s wish, I knew he was utterly dull. To reach the Root? He hasn’t even pursued the mysteries within this world to their end, yet presumes to chase those outside it. Even if he achieves it, what meaning is there? In the end, power that cannot illuminate the world is worthless.”

Such words would enrage any magus—the goal for which countless families and generations have sacrificed everything was dismissed as nothing by Gilgamesh.

Yet, Kirei, long aware that Gilgamesh was a tyrant and not considering himself a magus, listened with keen interest.

This, precisely, was the result Gilgamesh desired. With a smile, he drained his cup of wine.

“Tell me, Kirei—what is your wish? And that elusive rat you harbor, neither of you seem to mind serving Tokiomi, though you both came for the Holy Grail.”

“I have no wish. My Master’s will is my directive.”

“A loyal hound, indeed,” Gilgamesh’s gaze shifted to Kirei. “And you, Kirei?”

“Originally, I sought answers. Now, I question the direction in which salvation lies…”

“How rigid. Considering salvation, when desire still burns within you?” Gilgamesh’s smile was wicked. “Why not surrender yourself to pleasure and pursue delight?”

Kirei fell silent, which pleased Gilgamesh all the more.

“I cared little for this game, but to my surprise, that man arrived, and Tokiomi’s audacious counsel seemed odd. So, I investigated this so-called wish-granting machine, and discovered something unexpected.”

Gilgamesh turned his head, his smile fading, his tone icy.

“Answer me, Kirei. For Tokiomi’s wish to reach the Root, how many souls must be sacrificed—six, or seven?”

Even without unleashing the Gate of Babylon, the murderous aura emanating from Archer was enough to make the atmosphere tense, prompting Assassin to materialize and stand protectively before Kirei.

Yet Kirei’s expression remained unchanged.

“You’ve discovered the truth. If it’s simply granting a wish, six Heroic Spirits suffice. But to reach the Root, seven must be sacrificed to anchor the gate to the world’s beyond. From the outset, you had no qualification to wish.”

“Ha, so calm. Seems your rigidity is not entirely useless,” Gilgamesh’s murderous intent dissipated, and he reclined once more upon the sofa.

“So Tokiomi’s display of loyalty to me was false from the beginning?”

“Teacher is a traditional magus.”

Kirei’s answer was indirect, but together with Archer’s earlier remarks about magi, his meaning was clear.

“What a traitorous man. Given his loyalty and humility as a subject, I tolerated him, refraining from taking his life.”

Archer had been furious when his reunion with Enkidu was interrupted, but, acknowledging that Tokiomi had served as a catalyst for that reunion, Gilgamesh showed mercy.

Yet, now knowing Tokiomi had always been deceiving him, such behavior undoubtedly violated Gilgamesh’s bottom line.

“Originally, Tokiomi should atone for such folly with death. But for the sake of my long-awaited reunion with my friend, and the necessity of a Master to supply mana, I intend to find someone far more interesting.”

Hearing this barely veiled hint, Kirei raised his head slightly.

“Hero King, are you inciting me to betray my mentor?”

“No, I merely wish for that man’s death to have greater worth. If his dullness can inspire a more entertaining you, his demise will not be in vain.”

Gilgamesh spoke coldly, “Kirei, tell me—who is more worthy of your loyalty, myself or Tokiomi?”

“Of course, you. Even if Teacher is an excellent magus, compared to the legendary Hero King, he is but a worm beside the sun.”

“Precisely,” Gilgamesh crossed his arms over his chest. “How can one win the Holy Grail War alongside such vermin?”

“So, Kirei, choose. Will you cling to your loyalty, risk your life to warn Tokiomi and flee, or will you betray him and let me bring you greater delight?”

Gilgamesh, unhurried, poured himself another glass, his gaze expectant upon Kirei.

Kirei’s response was immediate, with no extraneous gesture. He bowed slowly, lowering his head.

The solemn priest spoke: “There can be no second sun. In my heart, you alone are the sun.”

It was precisely because of this that Gilgamesh failed to notice—even at this moment of revelation—Kirei’s eyes remained as calm as a deep well, as though pleasure was nothing but a fleeting cloud.

Hero King, you are merely the most exceptional among mortals. Even if pleasure is my answer, to abandon myself to it blindly would be but poison, incapable of granting me peace.

What could bring me happiness now is only something that surpasses the world, more exalted than any human law—a law belonging to the divine. Nothing else holds meaning.

To reach that place, to follow his steps, I can restrain and forsake all things. Only Roland, only Paradise, is our sole salvation.