MMMS 109

“Found him.”

It only took ten seconds. Artoria drove her lance through three cavalrymen in a single thrust, their bodies thrown from their saddles like broken dolls. She reached out to Morgan through their shared link.

Gilgamesh. Northwest.

Ever since Rhongomyniad had become her main weapon, her Spirit Origin had begun to shift—closer to that of a divine spirit. Along with it came a faint Clairvoyance, just strong enough to pierce the haze of war and catch a flash of golden armor in the distance.

“Oh hey, our little three-person group chat is finally being used.”

Even in the middle of a battlefield drenched in fire and blood, Ryuuto’s tone was casual, almost amused. While dodging Iskandar’s wide, brutal swings, he dipped low and slammed his palm into the sand.

A moment later, the ground shuddered.

From beneath the dunes, purple-black tentacles erupted—slick with slime, lined with jagged teeth and twitching suction cups. They burst upward without warning, dragging horses down by the legs, wrapping around screaming soldiers and squeezing until bones cracked and blood sprayed in wide arcs. The desert sand turned wet and red in moments, streaked with the shredded remains of a dozen cavalrymen.

Another wave came, then another. The tentacles moved with no pattern, striking from below and pulling entire squads into the earth. The soldiers never saw it coming. In less than a minute, hundreds lay dead or dying, their bodies scattered like debris after a storm.

Ryuuto grinned as he surveyed the carnage. “Not to brag, but I think I’ve got the highest kill count right now.” He glanced toward the sisters, who were still locked in combat, blades flashing. “Honestly this desert terrain Rider summoned is kinda nice. I might ask him to show me a few more views before I take his head.”

Artoria: “…Master, please be quiet.”

Morgan: “Master, now is really not the time.”

Ryuuto blinked. “Wow. You two are starting to sound more and more alike.”

Artoria: “That’s not the case.”

Morgan: “Impossible.”

Artoria let out a sharp sigh, clearly fed up with her Master’s antics.

"Archer’s just lounging up there—one thousand meters in the air, sitting on the throne of that ridiculous flying boat," she muttered. "Honestly, isn’t that annoying, Caster?"

"You're not wrong," Caster replied with a faint smile. At the same moment, a similar curve tugged at both sisters’ lips—equal parts amused and irritated.

Artoria nodded once. "I’ll count on you for support and reinforcement, then."

"Hmph. I might not be the star of the story," Caster said, flicking her hair, "but it’d be far worse if Master thought I couldn’t carry my weight."

Before another word could pass between them, the silver-haired King of Knights stepped forward, her form swallowed in a spiral of stormlight. It wasn't mere wind—it howled around her like a divine gale, a radiance so fierce it outshone the desert sun.

She raised her Holy Lance. The weapon blazed with white storm, its light reflecting in the eyes of tens of thousands, turning the battlefield into a sea of gold and white.

Storm gathered at the spear’s tip—dense, blinding, alive. Mana compressed and twisted around it, forming a vortex that screamed with contained destruction.

Through her Clairvoyance, she locked onto the enemy’s exact position far across the battlefield. Caster’s magical support surged behind her, amplifying everything.

“Rhongomyniad!”

The sky itself lit up.

From the heavens, true ether poured in a torrent, streaking toward the target like a divine judgment. The searing beam exploded from her lance, its heat tearing through the atmosphere as it surged toward the Golden King's Vimana—still hovering far, far above the battlefield.

The strongest defensive perimeter Gilgamesh had constructed—a formation of over ten autonomous Noble Phantasms—was obliterated in an instant. These were treasures capable of deflecting even anti-army strikes, yet now they crumbled under the flood of light pouring from the sky.

Gilgamesh’s expression shifted. Without a word, he pulled a golden spear from his treasury, weighed it for a moment, then returned it with a sharp flick of his wrist. He wasn’t interested in a direct clash of Noble Phantasms—not against that.

The only weapon capable of surpassing both the holy sword and the holy lance had already been taken by Ryuuto. And regrettably, his vault held no counterpart to restrain that accursed lance. It wasn’t even a weapon in the traditional sense. Rhongomyniad was a stake that anchored the planet’s layers—something that had never existed before.

"Tch." Clicking his tongue, Gilgamesh grabbed hold of Vimana’s helm. The golden ark lurched forward, accelerating with the kind of speed only spoken of in ancient myths, trying to outpace the searing lance.

The King of Knights was far too distant. Her timing had been sharp, but the lingering interference from the shattered defenses had spoiled the angle. The lance didn’t strike him directly—but the explosion it triggered swallowed Vimana whole.

The boat disintegrated in midair, pieces trailing smoke and gold as they vanished into the light.

And from the center of it all, a sound erupted.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Gilgamesh plummeted from the sky, laughter peeling across the battlefield. His crimson eyes burned with a manic joy as he twisted in freefall, arms wide as if welcoming the descent.

"Well done! That wasn’t bad at all!" he shouted, the wind howling around him. "But if you think that’s enough to defeat me—then you're dreaming, mongrel!"

"Very well then. As a reward..." Gilgamesh sneered, golden light flaring around him. "I'll let you become rust on my treasures. Be grateful—and die, mongrel."

As he landed, Original Sin emerged from his treasury in a flash of brilliance.

Ryuuto watched from a distance, lips twitching. "He's still running his mouth?"

Morgan folded her arms. "After nearly getting turned into a sunbeam, no less."

Artoria lowered her gaze slightly. "Apologies. I failed to silence him."

She didn’t sound angry—just mildly disappointed.

With the King of Heroes still very much alive and ranting, the three turned away and rejoined the battlefield.