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"I am the Victor!"
The youth said softly, with a tone that could not be refused, with a tone of unquestionable certainty mixed with strong fighting spirit, narrating this absolute fact.
Before him, scattered golden light dust, with incomparable splendor and brilliant beauty, was slowly rising.
And at this moment, the ground also gradually turned golden, then spread out in all directions like rippling lake water.
"I am the one who will surely win!"
Then, the incantation followed immediately, a spell as if unwilling to keep his enemy waiting.
Just like someone who had already achieved victory, an absolutely undeniable will.
The golden specks of light gradually condensed,
Then, they condensed, were crafted, were refined, into sharp, tough golden swords, one by one, capable of tearing apart divinity.
The golden ripples had already dyed the ground beneath Gilgamesh's feet, then rushed further into the distance with undiminished momentum.
"My hands have already grasped all victories!"
He asserted softly, even though his voice was already hoarse, even though his tone was somewhat low.
This could not conceal the unwavering will carried within his voice.
Then, the golden swords stuck in the ground, scattered carelessly, or floating in the air, gently swayed,
Those golden swords, one by one, were pulled out, were raised,
Immediately after, without exception, they were aimed at the arrogant king.
"Gilgamesh! You are the King of Uruk, the slayer of the beast Humbaba, the friend of Enkidu, and the oldest king in human history!"
The golden swords, as the incantation was uttered, transformed from ten to a hundred, and from a hundred, they ascended to a thousand.
Undoubtedly, at this moment, tens of thousands of golden swords were aimed at the arrogant king.
"Then, welcome your end, King of Heroes, Gilgamesh!"
That was a command given with unquestionable certainty, without hesitation.
In the sky, which had been dyed gold, the humming sound of swords being drawn from their sheaths was now resounding.
Ten, a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand golden swords, in that instant, instantly, all of them, were aimed at Gilgamesh.
But the king showed not a single trace of fear.
The corner of his mouth slightly tilted upwards, gradually forming an arrogant, contemptuous, disdainful smile.
"You think mere numbers can achieve victory, mongrel?"
He, facing the tens of thousands of golden swords, with their sky-obscuring posture, showed not a single trace of fear.
Because,
Gilgamesh's arm, covered by polished armor that shimmered with golden light, was gently raised.
As if something had been awakened.
It was an authority like the sky pressing down heavily. All the longswords cast from gold trembled, hummed, and roared unwillingly in unison.
Layer upon layer, spanning across the horizon, those layers of golden, brilliant ripples, which could not be ignored, gently undulated, then, one after another, until they completely filled the sky and earth.
The Gate of Babylon, or rather, the King's Treasury, was fully opened here.
One by one, various divine weapons and sharp artifacts emerged from within.
Their ferocious forms were unobstructed as they reflected in Verethragna's heart.
Then, they made the handsome face of this youth bloom once more with a fervent smile, signifying immense joy.
"This is how it should be, this is what's interesting, King of Heroes! To fight you is truly a great honor!"
Verethragna lightly chanted his respect for the king with a radiant tone, as if reciting a poem.
He looked at the scenery on the horizon and couldn't help but reveal a fervent fighting spirit, like blazing flames, and a sense of grandeur that made the trip worthwhile.
Thousands, even nearly tens of thousands, of golden ripples, these gates of light, were spread across the sky, looking down from above upon the rain of brilliant golden swords.
Undoubtedly, even if there was a slight advantage in quantity, the quality was overwhelmingly insufficient.
However, Verethragna showed no trace of fear. Instead, he decisively mobilized his divine power and issued a command to the golden swords.
Immediately after, the golden sword rain and the magnificent tide woven by Noble Phantasms moved in unison.
They shot fiercely towards the operators on the opposite side, the majestic Oldest King and the surely victorious Heretic God.
The collision of golden swords and Noble Phantasms, then they passed each other, then they shattered, then they dispersed, then they were torn apart, then they were severed.
Undoubtedly, these existences of absolute value were eroding each other, breaking each other, and bringing about each other's end.
Perhaps a few stray swords or Noble Phantasms grazed the battlefield, then struck the two of them.
Unlike Gilgamesh, who had the protection of 'Rho Aias' or other Noble Phantasms.
At this moment, Verethragna was not merely at a disadvantage; he couldn't even defend himself, let alone dodge, while entangled in the Chain of Heaven.
However, it was probably the end of the line.
Verethragna lightly surveyed the vast battlefield of Noble Phantasms and golden swords, then lightly sighed.
"It truly is passionate, truly makes this one feel the trip was worthwhile."
He smiled lightly, a satisfied smile, without a trace of fear on his face at the prospect of impending death.
Because that death merely represented his temporary return to mythology.
And this impending defeat, on the contrary, filled him with incomparable joy.
Defeat, then rise up, surpass himself, and then utterly crush the opponent in return.
This was a thought that could be considered treasonous for this god who represented victory, yet it appeared within him, a Heretic God.
"Then, if you can block this blow,"
He said with a light laugh, his clear voice slowly speaking.
Even now, as he took another piercing blow from a Noble Phantasm with his frail body, there was not a hint of tremor in his voice.
"If you can block it, I shall acknowledge your status as the victor!"
As he said this, all the smiles on his face, all the smiles signifying ease, gradually vanished.
"For victory, come quickly before me, undying sun! Grant me your shining steed. Oh spiritual horse with swift feet, bring your master's halo!"
That was the incantation signifying the 'White Horse' incarnation, which he now chanted clearly.
He was not like Godou Kusanagi, who had restrictions on using the White Horse incarnation.
The next moment, in the sky, a white blazing flame gradually ignited.
Flames like the sun, slowly rose above the golden sky.
An incomparable authority, heavily struck the king, but Gilgamesh showed no emotion that indicated fear.
Even if this blow could easily flatten a city or do something else, for the King of Heroes, it was meaningless.
Because he still possessed that sword, a Noble Phantasm that could absolutely be considered peerless.
That could easily resolve everything at this moment.
Now was the time for it to reveal its formidable presence.
Then, Heretic God Verethragna,
Tremble for this!