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That was the Camel, grayish-blue, carrying the traveler's longing for life, and a camel strong enough to easily contend with the power of tigers and wolves.
That was the Bull, with incomparably solid muscles, sharp horns, and an extraordinary, resolute will.
That was the Phoenix, enveloped in crimson flames, its head raised in a long cry, its fiery wings spanning tens of meters.
That was, belonging to the God of War of the East, the concept of victory, Verethragna's authorities, three of the Ten Incarnations.
The Camel, symbolizing tenacity and a kick that could shatter gold and jade; the Bull, signifying robust and unparalleled brute strength; and in addition, the Phoenix, implying fighting spirit and the speed to crush everything.
At this moment, it was no exaggeration to say that Verethragna was at full power.
Nothing could withstand this Heretic God, whose body was originally forged from divine power.
Even another Heretic God, or any Godslayer, would be easily torn to shreds by this blow.
Naturally, Gilgamesh was no exception.
Even if he wore armor woven from the most solid gold and legend, even if he possessed an unparalleled divine body capable of withstanding the tearing of space.
This, too, could absolutely not block this strike.
Therefore, the youth's face was currently covered with a joyful and fervent smile.
But, it also faintly concealed a trace of inexplicable disappointment.
Joyful that he was about to grasp victory, fervent that this epic and mythological battle was about to conclude with his triumph.
However, he was also disappointed at his victory once again, at once again obtaining the usual victory that signified his own rules.
This, too, was too inconsistent with the meaning implied by being a Heretic God.
However, that didn't matter.
The moment Verethragna, utilizing the Phoenix's extreme speed, shot out nimbly and swiftly from behind that magnificent wild boar, the outcome was probably already decided.
But, it seemed not to be so.
The handsome youth, wearing a faint smile, yet whose divine eyes were filled with disappointment.
Fiercely, fiercely, as he swung that heavy fist, capable of easily razing a towering building to the ground, towards Gilgamesh, it seemed something appeared.
That formless or tangible thing blocked Verethragna's steel fist, which signified a fatal blow.
Probably some Noble Phantasm, or some high-level magecraft.
Verethragna thought lightly, but there was no change whatsoever on his handsome, slightly disheveled face.
However, this was as far as it would go.
He chanted softly, then fiercely poured the Bull's power into that strike, which already contained unparalleled, immense force.
"Then, let it end here. Go and meet your tragic defeat, O King of Heroes!"
Such clear, triumphant words, as if victory had already been achieved, echoed softly, as if the battle had already ended.
As if this youth had already grasped victory.
However, no matter how one thought about it, it wouldn't be that easy.
"Save your daydreams for when you're actually dreaming, mongrel!"
An unhesitatingly harsh rebuke, as if completely unconcerned with his own predicament, was spat out heavily from Gilgamesh's mouth.
However, hearing such words, Verethragna showed no trace of anger.
He merely, lightly, clenched that slender, snow-white fist again, which seemed to be blocked by something, yet was completely enveloped by three different radiances.
Then, without a trace of flourish,
He swung it out with all his might.
This should settle it. Under such an attack, there should be no reason for survival.
At least, that's what Verethragna was thinking at this moment.
However, it was probably only at this moment.
It was a sneer, a lofty, arrogant, and contemptuous sneer.
As if that strike was so insignificant.
Immediately after, there was the light cracking sound of that transparent 'shield' blocking Gilgamesh.
As if it could no longer withstand the immense force transmitted and was about to shatter, that was the extremely helpless wail coming from this Noble Phantasm.
And the next moment, there was a complete, crisp shattering sound, like glass being fiercely smashed.
Yes, it shattered. All obstacles had been removed.
The smile on Verethragna's face widened. He then exerted force fiercely, sending that steel fist forward, hoping to tear apart that seemingly incomparably solid golden armor.
But.
"Rho Aias (The Seven Rings that Cover the Fiery Heavens)"
It was a voice that seemed to be mocking something, as if Verethragna's act of tearing his shield was so boring.
And in the next moment, Verethragna also understood what that contemptuous sneer truly meant.
It was one after another, a full six layers of defense, absolutely more than enough to block his strike.
"That's really a bit unreasonable."
Verethragna muttered with such lament, at the opulence this King signified.
But.
"Don't think this makes you completely safe!"
Without hesitation, he directly retracted the steel fist that had already shot out.
And the unparalleled brute force carried by that fist was also fiercely absorbed by this Heretic God.
However, he showed not a shred of hesitation, even as his tender skin was torn, even as his robust muscles were ripped, even as his solid arm bones were fiercely fractured.
But, he didn't even hesitate in the slightest, as if this was perfectly natural, as if such injuries were extremely insignificant.
No, perhaps he had never thought that way. What he thought, what he understood, was only that 'victory cannot be obtained this way,' so he chose to 'change the method of attack,' that's all.
Thus, that Phoenix-like speed, capable of easily tearing apart the atmospheric wall that signified the sound barrier, was once again revealed without a doubt.
This time.
The target was his back!
Undoubtedly, that solid shield, that signature Noble Phantasm of Aias, could not be destroyed by him now.
Since that was the case, he should directly change targets, instead of wasting this opportunity.
As for the injuries, compared to the fruits of victory, they were too insignificant.
Thus,
It was a kick,
It was the kick of the Camel, signifying one of the Ten Incarnations,
A kick that absolutely could not be ignored.
This strike was probably even more terrifying than the heavy punch just now.
If it landed squarely, that King of Heroes probably wouldn't even leave a complete corpse.
However, at this moment, facing this Heretic God were golden ripples, one after another.
And, the Noble Phantasms emerging one by one from the King's Treasury.
They positioned themselves in front of Verethragna, attempting to block this strike.
However, it was meaningless.
The Noble Phantasms were struck down, sent flying, shaken away, even torn apart, broken.
But, this also blocked the strike.
Although it was only for a brief moment.
But it was enough.
Because Gilgamesh had already, with an intonation of unquestionable will, without a trace of hesitation, uttered that name, the True Name of the Noble Phantasm that crushed all Heretic Gods.
"Enkidu, Chains of Heaven!"
At this moment, victory seemed to have already departed from Verethragna!