Chapter 85: This Is My True Escape Route!

Within the rapidly spinning blade, etheric mana transformed into a crimson hurricane, its mere aftershocks sending everything in the vicinity flying. Yet the sword of rupture’s rotation had not ceased; its three massive cylindrical sections ground against each other with the force of shifting tectonic plates, spinning as torrents of magical energy poured forth.

In terms of sheer might, this was the most overwhelming power Roland had ever witnessed. Before such strength, sound became warped, light was devoured, and even the surrounding space began to tremble. For a moment, neither of them spoke; they simply gazed in silence at the vast convergence of magical energy, coalescing into a roaring vortex, an invincible blade.

By now, the surrounding space was already crying out in agony—even before the sword of rupture’s full release, it was ravaging the world around it.

“You’re not going to invoke its true name? I could give you the time if you wish,” Roland said with a cheerful smile. He was a little eager himself, since chances to witness the sword of rupture’s power up close were rare.

“There’s no need,” Gilgamesh replied coolly. “If the rules cannot be grasped, then one must accept them. I simply wish to confirm whether this sword’s rank can reach that threshold.”

“So, I will not unleash the full power of my Noble Phantasm. On the contrary, I will continue to compress it, transforming it into a slash so pure and condensed that it can sever even space itself without a single drop of mana leaking out.”

“Otherwise,” Gilgamesh’s gaze grew solemn, “I would die.”

His repeated volleys from the Gate of Babylon had already cost him many lives. If the sword of rupture’s unleashed power brought that fate back upon him, Gilgamesh could not imagine how he might resist.

“What an astounding transformation,” Roland remarked with admiration. “You’re almost unrecognizable from the arrogant figure you were before.”

Calm, composed, and facing his predicament with candor, he could now make the most rational decisions based on his circumstances. If Gilgamesh had always been like this, the Holy Grail War would have ended swiftly, leaving only him and Enkidu.

But this was neither his old age nor his youth; without suffering a setback, he would never take things seriously.

“Arrogance is the natural disposition of one who knows his own strength. But if one cannot even see himself clearly, that is mere folly.”

Gilgamesh raised his arm high above his head, the crimson spiral at the sword’s core compressing further, turning the blade into a blur of scarlet shadow.

Even as he went all out, Gilgamesh could glean nothing from the omniscient, omnipotent star—his Noble Phantasm that could see through all things. It revealed only the nature of the foe before him; the rest remained an unfathomable unknown.

Precisely because of this, he regained his pride anew. Such a foe would never bring shame to the sword of rupture, perhaps not even to himself.

“I apologize for keeping you waiting so long. Might I be honored to know your name?”

“Just call me Roland.”

“Roland, then...” Gilgamesh no longer hesitated. “So, Roland, witness now—my struggle!”

Above the sword’s tip, a radiance akin to the void itself had gathered. The laws of the mortal world were crumbling before this blade.

Even without full release, the sword of rupture, a Noble Phantasm that defied the world, radiated an EX-rank power beyond measure.

Is this the true force of an Archer who fights in earnest?

Saber watched with mixed feelings. If this divine sword were to be fully unleashed, could he too freely wield the holy sword of the stars?

Yesterday, he would have done so without a second thought. But today, Saber was deeply shaken in his purpose. He looked toward Roland, who faced the sword’s rupture with a careless smile.

What kind of essence must one possess to make even that arrogant king bow his head, change his attitude, and fight with all his might?

He did not know why, but Saber suddenly felt a touch of gratitude that Roland was his Master. He held his breath, waiting silently for the battle’s outcome.

Gilgamesh brought the blade down in a sudden, violent arc. The sword of rupture roared like a beast.

The compressed slash was so swift it left no visible trail, only the thinnest line of light, sharper than any blade, which shattered space itself, drawing its fragments into itself until nothing remained but destruction.

In the wake of that ultimate light, only a black abyss was left, and that annihilating radiance fell straight toward Roland.

Gilgamesh forgot to breathe or blink, fixated on that long yet instantaneous strike.

Could such a power, warping the very rules of the world, shatter the chains that bound him?

Yet, at the instant the crumbling earth and sky, the torn and scattered space, and the chaos of all creation touched Roland, everything halted.

Despite unleashing a blow that could end worlds, the result was anticlimactic—a fizzle after all.

Staring at his empty hands, Gilgamesh managed a bitter smile.

The next moment, the slash that twisted space manifested at his right arm; his entire limb was severed and shredded by the force.

“Did time rewind again?” Gilgamesh stared in astonishment at his severed arm, and at Roland, who stood unmoved, not even bothering to pursue.

From Roland’s actions, he felt only immense humiliation and helplessness.

It was not that he himself was lacking—it was simply that his opponent’s power was too absurd. He would rather his arm had been cut off by Roland rushing forward; at least then, he could accept defeat with dignity.

But to die by his own attack—such an end was far too ironic.

Even with an arm severed, Gilgamesh remained standing, having shed all his earlier arrogance and bravado.

“Well? If you’re willing to grovel and hand over all the treasures in your vault, I might just let you live.”

“Don’t make me laugh, god of another world. Whether you keep your word or not is irrelevant—I would never agree. There is a difference between having no chance of winning and surrendering everything to be slaughtered. Even if I cannot defeat you, at least I will die resisting.”

Clutching the wound at his shoulder, Gilgamesh’s lips curled in irony. “If it were for the people of Uruk, I might offer my treasures willingly. But why should I sacrifice for this fallen world?”

“You see through it all. A king who stands at the pinnacle of desire, yet can see past it—unlike those fools who pride themselves on having abandoned their own wants.”

Even cornered, the outcome obvious, Gilgamesh would not bow his head—at least in this, he was consistent.

“Perhaps, but there’s no need for it. So, will you make another move? As you are now, you’re not even the Monkey King in Buddha’s palm to me.”

“Of course. I still have one last move.”

Wiping the blood from his mouth, Gilgamesh sneered. “Against a monster like you, how could I not have a trump card?”

“Your essence is formidable, but bound to a mortal body, your power is limited. So, I’ll just use my legs.”

“Your... legs?”

Roland hesitated, mouth twitching, but Gilgamesh, ignoring his injuries, charged upward, pouring mana into his body.

“Until we meet again, god from another world! I’ll take my leave first!”

“I must admit, you’re stronger now!”

In this serious mode, Gilgamesh was remarkably mature—not the type to court death over temporary setbacks.

Running away might be shameful, but it’s useful.

Gilgamesh often looked down on everything with arrogance, but that did not mean he was a fool.

This defeat would surely serve him well in the future.

If he couldn’t win, could he not at least escape? Rather than die here, bearing pointless humiliation, Gilgamesh would rather carry this disgrace and die gloriously in battle alongside Enkidu. What did it matter what became of the world after? Uruk had been gone for ages.

And, to be fair, fleeing from such a monster was hardly shameful.

Soaring into the night sky, Gilgamesh glanced back, his expression twisting again.

“A monster indeed—to leap so high with a human body... I must go faster! There’s only a dozen meters between us!”

He burst from the forest into the deep night sky, not daring to slow.

“If I can just reach it... just reach that place!”

His eyes widened. With his remaining arm, he beckoned.

A golden ripple flared behind him; a massive hammer emerged, swinging at Roland with all its might.

“Such resolve,” Roland mused, understanding Gilgamesh’s intent but making no move to stop him. Instead, he pulled a camcorder from his shadow, capturing the sight of the heroic king fleeing in utter disarray.

If he ever met Gilgamesh again, and the king tried any mischief, Roland would copy this video ten thousand times and broadcast it to the world—let everyone see the heroic king’s true colors.

Sure enough, when the hammer missed Roland, it crashed into Gilgamesh himself. Blood spurted from his mouth, but by adjusting his position, he used the impact to propel himself even farther from Roland.

This was his sole strategic success in the entire battle, and Gilgamesh found himself laughing exultantly.

“You fell for it, Roland! This is my escape route! God from another world, you’re still too green to match wits with me! Don’t you find the sky so spacious?”

In the sky before him, golden ripples spread—far larger than any previous weapon he’d summoned.

A vast vessel emerged from the Gate of Babylon—a radiant ship of gold and emerald, its wings splayed like those of a faerie, dazzling and magnificent, inspiring awe by its very presence.

The ancient Indian epic, the Ramayana, gave this glorious craft its name: Vimana.

Yet now, this extravagant flying ship sped forward at full throttle. Gilgamesh called forth his most reliable companion—the Chains of Heaven—to latch onto Vimana’s tail, swinging like a kite in the sky.

Undeniably, with this vehicle, he widened the gap between himself and Roland. But as Gilgamesh, battered and breathless, looked back, his gaze froze.

The distance between himself and Roland had not changed. Yet something still followed him—a strange being Roland called his Stand.

“After my evolution, my range has increased, you see. So, please accept this parting gift.”

Killer Queen raised its hand, flames forming into a cannon-like blast that shot toward Gilgamesh.

As a semi-manifestation of Roland’s soul, merged in body and spirit, the Stand could now wield the power of the Fire Demon Aura.

The Chains of Heaven strove to pull it toward Vimana—if only it could reach the ship, the attack would pose no threat—but the blast was too swift. He had no time.

“Damn it,” Gilgamesh grumbled, resorting to his last resort. “Tokiomi, save me!”

Suddenly, both he and the ship vanished without a trace.

“So Tokiomi’s still alive... Well, not for long.”

After a brief pause, Roland’s vision linked to the distant mountains, where the Tohsaka estate lay in ruins.

“No matter. Enkidu can still use him, so I’ll leave him to Kirei.”

Roland was anything but disappointed as he landed lightly.

The evolved Killer Queen delighted him—the Fourth Bomb, “Egoism,” though not as direct as “Bites the Dust,” surpassed it in versatility and conditions.

When the Fourth Bomb was activated, if Roland sensed any threat, or any hostile presence near him, it would be marked.

No matter what the opponent did, if their actions threatened Roland, those actions would be reversed, the resulting facts erased by the gap between past and future, and the consequences returned in kind.

And, thanks to Killer Queen’s mark, every one of Roland’s attacks would be automatically corrected, issued from the mark in the past, unhindered by the temporal divide—a truly unfair advantage.

Even so, Roland did not consider this ability invincible. If someone truly abandoned their killing intent toward him and only wished to destroy the world, that would be another matter. While the resulting calamity would still reflect back on the perpetrator, the disaster itself could not be erased.

Moreover, while the Fourth Bomb was active, Roland could not use the Third Bomb, “Bites the Dust.” He could choose individual reversal or world reversal, but not both at once.

“But this is enough. I can’t wait to see your new power and form once you’ve surpassed Heaven.”

He glanced at Killer Queen, then dismissed it. Turning, he faced the bewildered King of Knights.

Now it was time to enlighten Saber—so that the Holy Sword of the Stars might finally shine with its rightful glory.

This chapter: over 4,000 words. Progress: 12,000/16,000.

(End of chapter)