“I may already be a corpse, but my sins are eternal.”
Having declared himself a dead man, Alkeides took a step forward.
“And so, I shall consign my body and soul to the seat of oblivion that drifts in Hades.”
A nonchalant step.
Nonetheless, his opponent, the King of Heroes, recognized it as a weighty step, charged with Alkeides’ whole being.
“My great foe and pitiful fellow, dance along with my mad rush.”
Then, Alkeides, his posture still relaxed, spoke with force.
“...Nine Lives.”
At almost the same instant Gilgamesh deployed his Gate of Babylon, Alkeides fired his bow.
Hundreds of Noble Phantasms were fired.
Not the weak Noble Phantasms that Gilgamesh had attacked with during their confrontation in the wasteland—each and every one of these would be sure to smash his opponent’s Spirit Origin.
If they had been fired with conceit, the myriad of Noble Phantasms would have fallen as a rain of vicious bloodlust with no thought for efficiency or any other consideration.
Now that he was standing on the same land as his friend Enkidu, however, Gilgamesh had no conceit.
His onslaught consisted of accurate Noble Phantasms aimed precisely at the parts of Alkeides’ body that the Nemean Lion’s pelt did not cover. It was a lethal swarm that would have obliterated any ordinary Heroic Spirit.
And yet, the rapid barrage of arrows that Alkeides fired while leaping to one side were downing those Noble Phantasms by matching them shot for shot.
Each arrow shot down multiple Noble Phantasms, but even more shocking than their force were their unusual trajectories and the speed of the barrage.
Alkeides was nocking two or three arrows at once and drawing his bow too fast for the eye to follow.
And that was not all. His arrows changed trajectory in midair as if each shaft had a will of its own, precisely shooting down Gilgamesh’s oncoming Noble Phantasms.
Those he could not completely evade, he blocked with the pelt by twisting his body, nullifying them.
Seeing the pelt undamaged, the King of Heroes snorted and made his next move.
“I shall personally assess...”
A large distortion in space formed beside him.
“...how well that pelt of yours can recognize the works of man.”
From the air to his left, blazing white flames.
From the air to his right, shining silver liquid.
To be precise, the liquid itself was colorless, but the moisture in the air around it froze instantly, giving its appearance a silvery gleam.
As they were in the King of Heroes’ treasury, both fire and liquid must have been human creations.
They were joined by manmade thunderbolts, and the storm of fire, ice, and lightning assailed Alkeides.
“...”
Alkeides, for his part, drew his bow back especially far.
The longbow bent back. Just as it seemed about to snap in two, it was released... and “it” took form in the sky above the church.
It were nine arrows shrouded in ominous magical energy whose twisting trajectories looked like titanic serpents.
They covered the sky over Main Street like the Hydra of legend, devouring not only the onrushing Noble Phantasms, but flame, cold, and even lightning alike.
Had the bowman been his proper self, his shots would have been shrouded not in the sinister, mud-like magical energy, but in pure divinity.
It was originally a culmination of skill and divinity said to be “clad in dragons.”
That Noble Phantasm, when unleashed with a sword, was a breathless dance of nine strikes and with a spear a series of nine blows, was no secret art passed down from father to son. It was a myth that the great hero had created and perfected alone.
The shafts he fired having become a disciple of vengeance, however, raced between the skyscrapers with appearances that suggested vipers or evil dragons.
And, as if to declare that the gleaming gold King of Heroes would be their final prey, the nine outspread great serpent heads bore down on him.
“Hydra venom? It may be the way of the world for a king to be served poison, but you lack artistry, mongrel.”
He paused his barrage of Noble Phantasms and caused another ripple in the air in front of him, preparing to open a door for a new treasure.
“I hate to take snakes into my treasury, but I already have venom to match yours.
“Along with its flesh, blood, and antivenom.”
“You can win, Lord Gilgamesh... I know you can...!”
Tine, who had been watching the clash from the top floor of the casino hotel, instinctively clenched her fists.
The grotesque bowman who called himself Alkeides must be one of the most dangerous opponents in this Holy Grail War.
But what Tine saw of the exchange convinced her that her own Servant, Gilgamesh, would triumph. He seemed to be deflecting all of his opponent’s attacks, and these nine bowshots that seemed to be a Noble Phantasm must be one of Alkeides’ trump cards.
Judging from circumstantial evidence, Alkeides possessed a Noble Phantasm that stole his opponent’s Noble Phantasm, which smacked of foul play. But the way things were going, Gilgamesh would not even need to draw Ea, the Sword of Rupture, to unleash Enuma Elish, so there would be no risk of it being stolen.
More than anything else, it was Gilgamesh’s attitude, which betrayed not an ounce of fear or distress, that made Tine feel relieved.
“I would expect no less, my king...!”
The words Tine could not suppress were not those of a mage seeking to reclaim her land.
They were the words of a child who had yet to fully mature, entranced by the King of Heroes’ radiance.
Tine Chelk had forgotten.
Forgotten that while she was a retainer of the King of Heroes, she was also Gilgamesh’s Master.
And Tine was unaware that, however great and exalted a being that Gilgamesh might be, even if the King of Heroes abandoned conceit and carelessness...
The Holy Grail War was not so soft that it could be won without Master and Servant fighting as a team.
Just as Gilgamesh was readying a Noble Phantasm to intercept the nine arrows shrouded in grotesque, dark-red magical energy that were closing in on him...
The distortions in space that had spread out around him suddenly vanished.
“...What?”
At that, Gilgamesh frowned for the first time.
The disappearance of the distortions in space pointed to a single fact.
The gates to the treasury of Babylon that held every last one of the king’s treasures, to the vault said by some to still exist somewhere in the world and by others to exist in other space entirely, had all shut.
Gilgamesh himself, of course, would not do such a thing.
But was there anyone else who could?
It was impossible.
In the fractions of a second it took Gilgamesh to reach that conclusion, the hero-slaying poisoned arrows were still closing in on him.
But this Gilgamesh was neither conceited nor careless.
Refusing to despair so soon, he attempted to bring the Noble Phantasms he had already fired to bear to counter them, when...
“— __ — _ — _ — ____ — __ —”
“It” bore a strange resemblance to the song of the earth that Enkidu had sung on the first day.
“It” resounded throughout Snowfield without warning, becoming a cacophony that scrambled the brains of everyone there.
What set “it” apart from Enkidu was the timbre.
“It” was not a beautiful singing voice ringing out in praise of the land and its people...
“It” was the resentful roar of a twisted monster that seemed to curse the whole world.
Tine witnessed the look on Gilgamesh’s face in that moment through her farseeing spell.
“What...?”
For an instant, she did not believe her eyes.
The look on Gilgamesh’s face reflected in them was one she had never seen on him before.
At first glance, it was close to his look of surprise when he had sensed Enkidu’s presence.
Except for his eyes.
Unbelievably, his eyes were tinged with an emotion that the King of Heroes must never show.
An emotion ordinarily seen in the eyes of the King of Heroes’ opponents when they looked at him.
His eyes expressed shock, irritation, hesitation... and the faintest tinge of fear.
Everyone who witnessed that sight, momentary though it was, reached the same conclusion.
The instant he heard that roar, the King of Heroes had flinched.
Impossible.
It’s not true. My eyes are playing tricks on me.
Tine did not even have time to finish her thought before her farseeing spell showed her a tragedy.
The instant that one of the arrows bearing down on the King of Heroes pierced his shoulder.
“Ngh...!”
It had barely missed his vitals.
But with a poisoned arrow, that hardly mattered.
The other arrows, which he had evaded, were closing in on him.
His treasury refused to open.
The one arrow impact had unbalanced him.
And the swarm of arrows was bearing down on him with too much force for him to deflect with his sword.
With nothing more to be done, a second and third shaft pierced the King of Heroes’ arm and leg.
The remaining arrows would be sure to strike vital points.
That instant, when it seemed to everyone that the King of Heroes was about to fall in a shocking upset... a “spear of earth” flew out of nowhere, passing by the King of Heroes to strike down the arrows.
The magical energy shrouding the shafts was deflected with a thunderous crash, shaking the window glass in the surrounding buildings.
“...So, we’ve been interrupted.”
“Damn... you.”
The King of Heroes’ rage-filled face was turned to the night sky. It was impossible to tell if he could even hear his opponent.
“To think that you would wander here... Do not tell me... you have fallen that far.”
His words were not aimed at Alkeides.
Gilgamesh’s eyes, fixed on empty air, had already sensed that presence.
A presence that, until then, had been skillfully concealed.
A presence that had emerged the instant the poisoned arrow had struck Gilgamesh, as if to say that it no longer had any need to hide.
And, in answer to his word... a third voice rang out in the sky over Main Street.
“’Fallen’? How rude.”
It was a beautiful, clear voice, but so utterly cold that it gave its listeners chills.
“My elevation has never changed. You just convinced yourselves that you had climbed above us. Am I wrong?”
From behind a skyscraper appeared a woman floating in the air, with white skin, red eyes, and inhuman beauty.
Gilgamesh did not recognize her appearance.
But he knew the being that most likely dwelt within her more than he would like.
You might even say that he knew her too well.
“Still, you finally left me an opening... Actually, I think the searing pain from that venom should be hitting you about now. Don’t you want to writhe? Hurry up and scream in agony—I’ll do you the favor of laughing at you,” the beauty told Gilgamesh with a faint smile as the Hydra venom began to eat into him.
But Gilgamesh, although he must have been suffering a shock for which the word “pain” was insufficient, like powerful acid coursing through every vein in his body, and despite the sweat beading on his forehead, looked down on the beauty hovering above him.
“How you bark. To think that even the passage of millennia has not worn off the arrogance stuck to your soul. Quite a deep-rooted mold, it seems.”
“Say what you like,” the woman who the King of Heroes, himself like the word “egotism” walking around in a suit of armor, had declared arrogant continued with a complacent smile. “Still, tracking you down took a lot of work... You deserve a thousand deaths just for making me walk through that gloomy cave.”
At the word “cave,” both Gilgamesh and Tine, who heard through her farseeing spell, simultaneously thought of the same place.
The cave in the ravine where the outsider mage had first summoned Gilgamesh.
“But I forgive you. After all, it helped me find something that will come in handy for killing you.”
The woman, glaring down at Gilgamesh, produced a key of lavish workmanship.
What she held in her hand was none other than the catalyst that the mage had used to summon Gilgamesh.
The front key to his treasury.
Not the key-sword that unlocked its deepest recesses, which housed Ea, the Sword of Rupture.
It was literally a work of art that served to open the treasury’s front gate.
“Just a pointless knick-knack that a mere human couldn’t do anything with, right?”
“Damn you...”
The woman regarded Gilgamesh, who groaned, drenched in cold sweat, but continued to stand erect, with a charming tilt of her head... and spoke with a smile that chilled to the bone.
“But in my hands... I can at least ‘relock’ it.”
It was a declaration that she had sealed the King of Heroes’ treasury—fatal to Tine’s faction.
But, as if to say that there were more important things, the King of Heroes smirked and pronounced with sarcasm:
“I am surprised that you shut the door before my treasures blinded you. I said you had fallen, but I was mistaken.”
“...”
“You deserve praise, Ishtar.”
Ishtar.

Fate/Strange Fake: Volume 5, Chapter 15 ("Gold & Lions II")