20 advance chapters on [email protected]/Saintbarbido.
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In the silence of the Black Sea, three kings stirred in restless irritation.
Gilgamesh, seated in invisible space above the dark waters, grit his teeth. The void around him pulsed faintly with his suppressed wrath.
"I will not take this lightly," he growled, golden eyes narrowing.
"This mongrel… dares to ban a king?" His voice reverberated across the hollow sea. "I am Gilgamesh. King of Heroes. I will open my vault and unleash every last treasure upon him."
There was fury in his tone, regal and ancient. The Sumerian ruler had never, in all his lifetimes, been disrespected so openly.
Nearby, Ozymandias sat cross-legged above the vast, unending black. A mild frown crossed his face.
"There's no need to complain," he said calmly. "I attempted to summon my treasures... but none answered my call." He looked around uneasily.
"It seems this 'Mark' truly has control."
The King of Kings had realized the truth—he couldn't access his temple, nor the divine constructs of his empire. He was suspended in a hollow abyss stretching for eternity, and it unsettled him deeply.
"I don't need my treasures to teach that boy a lesson," Gilgamesh muttered. "I alone am a treasure."
"Well," Iskandar chuckled, "I don't doubt that. But if this kid keeps it up, I think he might just knock that pride right off your face."
"Tsk. Mind your tongue, brute,"
Gilgamesh snapped, casting a withering glance.
Iskandar only grinned wider, unfazed.
Five minutes had passed.
Then the void shimmered, and a message returned to the group chat.
[Mark: So I guess now you've had your punishment.]
Gilgamesh remained silent. The sting of humiliation burned hotter than his rage. He knew that if he spoke out again, he would be cast back into the abyss. Iskandar and Ozymandias, though calmer, remained cautiously observant.
[Mark: I'll explain things now. If you all can cooperate, I can grant you access to perceive the world through my senses. But first—there will be a bargain.]
Interest spiked. Each soul leaned forward mentally, eager to see the new world. But the word "bargain" made even the proudest of them pause.
Mark had begun piecing things together.
He had awoken in a small apartment in Metropolis. A newspaper on the wall caught his eye—a cover story from the Daily Planet, featuring a photo of Superman saving a child.
The realization hit him like a freight train.
This was the DC Universe.
But his body, his identity—it was not his own. According to school documents and ID tags, he was a student at Madison High School.
And if his memory served him right, that school was no ordinary place.
It was home to more than a few future legends. Among them… was Raven and Kara .
Mark's heart beat faster with anticipation. But power in this world wouldn't be handed to him. He had to earn it. To wield the abilities, skills, and Noble Phantasms of the kings, their cooperation was required.
He needed leverage.
[Mark: If you all cooperate, I'll grant world sight. But in exchange… I want something from each of you. A Noble Phantasm.]
He hesitated after typing that. It was a bold ask. Maybe too bold.
Noble Phantasms were not mere tools—they were the crystallization of a king's legend. To request one was to ask for a piece of their very soul.
Silence followed.
Then, Mark dropped his trump card.
[Mark: Or if the offer seems unfair… I do have the Holy Grail.]
The effect was immediate.
Shock rippled through the chat. Everyone remained silent when chat suddenly broke the calmness.
[Artoria: There is hope after all. I can save Camelot.]
For the first time, the King of Knights spoke. Her voice was quiet, yet filled with emotion. Hope flickered in her words, a chance to rewrite the tragedy of her kingdom.
[Gilgamesh: The Grail? Ha! Don't make me laugh. That useless cup.]
[Mark: If you think it's useless, then how about I log you out again? You can spend eternity in the Black Sea—drowning in your pride.]
His words were cold. Sharp. They hit like a blade.
[Solomon: This group leader is certainly... formidable. To silence the King of Heroes twice—I'd better tread carefully.]
[Iskandar: Hah! Hah! Hah! I like you, kid. I'd gladly make you my regent.]
[Mark: I appreciate the offer. But I'll have to decline.]
[Iskandar: Suit yourself.]
Silence returned to the group. For a moment, no one spoke. Each king was weighing the cost of giving away part of their power. But the desire to witness the new world—to exist within it again—was strong.
Then, a message appeared.
[King Solomon has guaranteed to offer his wisdom.]
Mark raised a brow. He had hoped for something flashy, something he could flex with. But… Solomon's wisdom? That was valuable in a different way. Exams, studies, even manipulating magic and society—it was an advantage worth taking.
He accepted the offer.
In return, Solomon was granted world sight.
A few seconds passed.
[Gilgamesh has guaranteed to forgive you for your insolence.]
Mark's fingers clenched. The arrogance. The nerve.
Without hesitation, he activated the command. Gilgamesh's presence vanished from the chat once more, sent hurtling into the Black Sea.
Gilgamesh was livid. If the Sword of Rupture had been in his hand, he would have torn the realm apart just to strike down the "commoner" who dared to treat him like this.
[Iskandar: Ha! Ha! Ha! He never learns, does he?]
Then another notification chimed.
[Artoria has guaranteed to offer the Ever Distant Utopia—Avalon.]
Mark paused.
Of all the kings, she was the first to step forward with something so sacred.
A Noble Phantasm of immeasurable value. He was impressed—not just by her devotion, but her courage. Avalon would be a master piece in his arsenal, wielding the power to heal from any kind of injury would come handy.
He granted her the world sight.
And, as a token of respect, he awarded her 100 points.
The group stirred.
The system confirmed her offer, and for the first time, the kings saw what Mark saw—Metropolis, in all its urban wonder. Skyscrapers, people, tech and screens portraying super heroes. A world where legends lived.
The other kings took note. Artoria had taken the first step toward claiming the Grail.
And the race… had officially begun.
Each of them knew: if they gathered 2,000 points, the Holy Grail would be theirs.
And Mark, the one holding the scales, was no longer just a vessel.
He was the king among kings.