[Mass Update: 4/8]
As he saw the newcomer, Gilgamesh wore an excited, ferocious smile, then casually waved his hand.
A torrential downpour of Noble Phantasms, enough to reduce the entire port district to rubble, launched into the shadows. And to meet it rose another golden rain of light from the ground.
Equal in number and destructive force, the two torrents collided mid-air, explosive ripples blooming like lethal flowers, each shockwave booming like rolling thunder across the night.
Amid this clash, even Rider, driving the mighty chariot pulled by divine bulls, was briefly overwhelmed and thrown from his seat.
Momentarily setting aside his pride and prior grievances, he strode toward the stunned Kenneth and issued a deep, commanding warning.
"Master. Against that kind of assault, protecting you will be harder than fighting that golden bastard head-on. Looks like he's still got a few tricks up his sleeve. If it escalates, I'll get you and the boy out of here first."
It wasn't a suggestion. It was an order already given.
To Kenneth, being ordered around by a Servant was intolerable, but the reality of their situation brought crashing down on him like a slap to the face left him glowering in silence, no retort ready.
Saber, too, gripped his sacred sword tighter. If the battle remained one-on-one, it was still within his reach. But No matter what, his Master had to be protected.
But Gilgamesh, who was unleashing this storm of firepower, cared nothing for anyone's thoughts. He understood perfectly, this was merely the prologue, not even the warm-up.
This was a greeting. A thunderous, radiant welcome for his dearest friend after four thousand years of absence. A confrontation only the two of them could share.
"Hey, Gill. It's been a while."
Lancer, his form now fully revealed, paid no mind to the other Servants. His gaze locked directly onto Archer.
At the sight of his friend, Gilgamesh's grin only widened.
But he didn't answer with words. He answered with action.
Thousands of golden ripples unfurled around him, expanding and overlapping, sweeping through the night sky until all of Fuyuki's harbor was lit in blinding gold.
From distant Shinto, the spectacle looked like constellations descending. At closer range, it resembled a stellar downpour.
From within these stars, gleaming treasures emerged, mythical spears that never missed, swords that slew dragons, each radiating the aura of legend. And yet, even in the face of such a scene, Lancer showed not an ounce of fear.
The earth beneath him responded to his will, offering up power with each step. In return, Enkidu began to forge.
From the ground beside him, radiant weapons burst forth, no less magnificent than those housed in Archer's treasury. The divine light of legend shone on both sides, as blades forged of heaven and blades born of earth prepared to meet.
Before their eyes could meet again, the next clash began.
Swords and spears fell like meteorites, tearing through sound barriers, streaking toward Enkidu.
But Lancer merely looked upward at Gilgamesh, who now floated high above, and responded in kind. The earth bellowed in reply.
Each weapon met its counterpart with perfect timing, as if choreographed in advance. Many shattered in mid-air, the explosions rattling the sky, the very atmosphere screaming in agony.
Gilgamesh's expression only grew more exhilarated. The frequency of his attacks increased rapidly, but Enkidu adapted to each shift flawlessly, matching rhythm for rhythm.
By the time the thunder and fire of their battle had woken residents in distant neighborhoods, Gilgamesh finally paused.
"Ha ha ha ha!"
He laughed wildly, wholly satisfied.
"I'm relieved. You might've changed your appearance, but inside, you're still not some sniveling brat. You're really here for me. Have you finally come around on the whole 'meaning of life' thing?"
Lancer's voice was calm, unshaken.
"I've not changed… nor do I possess the right to speak about life. I'm a tool. How I act is determined solely by my Master's will."
"Still saying that nonsense?" Gilgamesh scoffed. "But even if you've got regrets, it's too late now." He rose higher into the sky, eyes blazing. "I'm not done having fun!"
A new ripple shimmered beside him, not a weapon this time, but a golden key.
At the sight of it, Lancer's expression shifted slightly. He frowned.
"Gill… if you insist on fighting seriously, change the battleground."
But Gilgamesh said nothing. He merely held the key in his hand, ignoring Enkidu's words.
Someone else heard, though.
"Ugh…!"
Tōsaka Tokiomi dropped to one knee, bracing himself on the table with one hand. His face was pale, slick with sweat.
Though he tried to maintain a refined composure, the strain of Gilgamesh's magic output was far beyond what his average circuits could handle.
Fortunately, he had prepared magic-storing gemstones in advance. With their support, he could barely hold on, but only for a while longer.
His circuits screamed under the overload, draining him dry.
But what alarmed him more than his deteriorating body was the battlefield itself.
Regardless of secrecy, this scale of destruction would require immediate handling by the Tōsaka family. The cost, in reputation and resources, would be immense.
And worst of all: there was no gain.
Archer was now outnumbered three-to-one. Lancer had him pinned, and two other Servants stood by, yet to reveal their trump cards.
And in that situation, Archer continued to flaunt his strength… even preparing his ultimate Noble Phantasm.
"This is bad… very bad…"
Tōsaka Tokiomi gritted his teeth. He had expected much from Archer's strength, but not recklessness.
To avoid watching the Tōsaka legacy crumble before his eyes, the Master who wasn't even on the battlefield made his decision.
"By the power of my Command Seal—King of Heroes, return to me immediately!"
Archer's furious voice rang out, full of bloodlust.
"TOKIOMI——!!"
And then, in a flash, he vanished.
The battlefield fell into a stunned silence. Several Servants and Masters stared at each other in bewilderment.
From a high rooftop, Roland let out a loud, amused laugh at the absurdity of it all.
"To think… even in a situation like this, he's still trying to hide his hand. Seems like Tōsaka Tokiomi doesn't understand how to use the King of Heroes at all. Just as I expected."
"You called it again," said Caster, sounding more impressed than amused. "This was clearly a chance to settle things. Even if it meant revealing his hand, he could've eliminated a threat. What's his Master thinking?"
Roland's voice turned analytical, and sharp.
"He doesn't trust Servants," he said. "Tōsaka Tokiomi might present himself as refined and deferential, but at heart, he's a traditional magus. His views on Servants probably aren't that different from Kayneth's."
There was something expectant in his tone now.
"But this… this wasn't just an unnecessary interruption. It was a reunion. Two ancient friends meeting after millennia. That kind of anger… won't be calmed easily."
His smile widened.
"This isn't over. Those two will be at each other's throats again soon enough."
The Tōsaka family had always been seen as the most reliable among the three Great Families of Fuyuki. Meticulous. Disciplined. Careful in selecting their Heroic Spirits.
And yet, somehow, they always managed to fumble their advantage at the worst possible moment. As if cursed.
"At the critical moment," Roland mused, "they always manage to ruin it. The Tōsaka family never disappoints."
He tilted his chin thoughtfully, then glanced back over his shoulder.
"What do you think of all this, Kirei?"
At the far end of the rooftop stood a priest in black vestments, Kirei Kotomine. He stared at Roland, his expression complicated.
His gaze shifted from Caster… to Roland's outstretched hand.
There, clearly visible, were the Command Seals that marked Roland as a Master.