Gilg is a tough boy

The creature my power had identified as Gilgamesh did, if fact, look fairly human. He was a man of middling height, with a stock of almost shockingly dark hair, set up in spikes. His skin was as dark as most of the Grimm, where it wasn’t covered by his bone-white armor. He carried a simple looking sword at his side, made of the same material as his body, and his face—assuming he had a face beneath it—was covered by a simple mask. It was more elaborate than most of the masks I’d seen, carved like porceline to give the impression of a calm human face.

Except for the eyes, of course. There were as red as an of the Grimm’s, and staring right up at me. Gilgamesh didn’t seem impressed, excited, or even worried to see me, not that it was easy to gauge the emotions of the Grimm; if anything, he simply looked expectant.

Worse, he didn’t look particularly hurt, either. He hadn’t quite shrugged off the blows and I could see the wounds it had left when it had seared at his flesh and armor—but he wasn’t exactly falling apart, either. His limbs were all where they were supposed to be, his eyes were still in his head, and all told, he looked shockingly intact for a guy who I’d made sure had taken the worst of the blasts. It was a little off-putting, truthfully. I mean, I hadn’t honestly expected to take him out with my first attack, but I’d kind of been hoping for a bit more of a reaction then ‘Ow, that hurt. Why would you do such a thing?’

But now that I’d seen the results, I had to decide how to proceed from here. From the beginning I’d known that Grimm’s reaction to my attacks big part of gauging our readiness for the battle and I was pleased to note that most of the Grimm looked worse for wear. They were injured enough that I was fairly certain I could defeat any one of them in battle. But Gilgamesh was another matter and seeing him standing there wasn’t particularly encouraging. If he was honestly that tough…