Chapter 331. A Shattering Blow
"Come then, Noah! Show me the true measure of your strength!" Gilgamesh roared, his voice booming across the desolate Australian outback. He could feel it—a sudden, violent shift in the atmosphere. The air around Noah began to hum with a terrifying resonance, a heavy, golden aura radiating outward that made the very pebbles on the ground vibrate. Gilgamesh knew, with the instinct of a warrior who had lived six thousand years, that the next strike would not just be an attack; it would be a catastrophe.
Ignoring the stinging heat of the shallow lacerations weeping blood across his chest and arms, the Eternal began to draw upon the deepest wells of his cosmic reserve. His golden energy flared around his fists like twin miniature suns. A flicker of regret passed through his mind; he cursed himself for leaving his battle harness back on the Domo. Had he been clad in that celestial-forged gold, these razor-sharp gusts of wind wouldn't have found his flesh so easily.
The armor of the Eternals was more than mere protection; it was a masterpiece of Arishem's design, tuned to the specific frequency of each bearer's soul. For Gilgamesh, it acted as a conduit, hardening his skin to the density of a star's core and amplifying his world-breaking strength.
But there was no time for "what-ifs." The ship was leagues away, buried beneath the desert sands, and the storm was already upon him.
Though a part of him—the part that had just tasted the biting edge of Noah's speed—realized that victory might be an impossibility this day, surrender was a concept he had never learned. As the Strongest Eternal, he carried a mantle of pride and ancient honor. To fall back now, without spending every last drop of his cosmic essence, would be a death worse than any blade could provide.
Taking a breath that seemed to pull the very heat from the air, Gilgamesh settled into a low, rooted stance. His eyes narrowed, tracking every shimmer in the heat haze. He knew that against a foe like Noah, a single heartbeat of distraction was an invitation for the grave.
Noah observed the mountain of a man find his resolve once more. His fingers tightened around the hilt of his blade, his knuckles white against the dark steel. He took one step forward—a soft, almost silent movement.
In the next blink, Gilgamesh was staring at empty space. Noah had vanished, his movement so fluid and rapid that he bypassed the Eternal's visual perception entirely.
Whoosh—
The sharp whistle of displaced air screamed from behind. Instinct took over; Gilgamesh spun on a dime, his massive arms crossing in a reflexive block, already calculating the momentum needed to catch Noah's wrist and deliver a bone-shattering counter.
He was too slow.
Before his guard could fully set, a physical force akin to a falling moon slammed into his forearms. It was an upward strike, a rising tide of steel and magic that defied gravity. The sheer kinetic energy of the blow didn't just push him; it launched him. Gilgamesh's boots—sizeable enough to crush boulders—were ripped from the red earth as he was sent careening into the sky.
The sensation of weightlessness was a foul thing to him. Unlike Ikaris or Phastos, Gilgamesh was a creature of the earth. Without his feet planted, he was a king without a throne, drifting helplessly as the world spun.
He thrashed in the air, trying to use the rotation of his torso to right himself. He knew the predator wouldn't wait. Noah was not the type to let a falling leaf reach the ground in one piece.
Sure enough, a cyclone of gale-force winds erupted from the crater Gilgamesh had just vacated. It tore upward, a spinning funnel of destruction. Within that vortex was Noah, his form blurred by the rushing currents. He bypassed the tumbling Eternal like a streak of lightning. With a casual, almost surgical flick of his wrist, Noah's blade sang. The cosmic shield Gilgamesh had frantically woven around his body—energy that could withstand a nuclear blast—was shredded like wet parchment.
Noah became a phantom in the sky. He moved in jagged, impossible angles, his blade a silver needle weaving a shroud of pain. He struck again and again, the "Last Breath" technique turning the air itself into a prison of steel. Gilgamesh was suspended, held aloft not by flight, but by the relentless frequency of the strikes hitting him from every direction.
Only when the final, soul-shaking note of the technique resonated did Noah deliver the finishing blow. With a heavy, downward swing, he sent the Eternal plummeting back to reality.
Gilgamesh hit the ground like a meteorite. A massive plume of dust and sand erupted, obscuring the horizon for several long seconds.
The silence that followed was heavy. Seeing the dust begin to settle, Ajak and Thena broke their paralysis, racing toward the impact site. Thena's face was a mask of uncharacteristic terror as she reached the edge of the crater, desperate to find the man she loved.
Noah descended slowly, his boots touching the sand with a light crunch. He loosened his grip on the magical blade; the weapon shivered, dissolving into a thousand shimmering motes of light that vanished into the afternoon sun.
"Cough... kh-kha!"
A muffled sound came from the center of the pit. Gilgamesh rolled onto his back, spitting out a mouthful of grit and sand. He looked a mess—his clothes were tatters, and blood slicked his skin—but as the dust cleared, it was evident he was still very much alive. The wounds were shallow, precisely measured. To a mortal, they would have been a dozen death sentences; to an Eternal, they were merely an expensive lesson in humility.
Noah had measured his strength with the precision of a master jeweler. This had been a sparring match, a dance of titans, not a slaughter. He had kept his most terrifying powers—the Infinity Stones and the Rune of Bravery—locked away, relying almost entirely on his own refined magic and swordsmanship.
Wiping a smear of blood from his jaw, Noah silently gauged his opponent. Gilgamesh was formidable, easily surpassing the baseline Hulk in raw power, bolstered by that unique, shimmering cosmic pool. Clad in his full panoply of war, the man would truly be a god of the battlefield.
'But he's not a mindless beast,' Noah thought, comparing him to the Jade Giant. 'The Hulk gets stronger with rage, but Gilgamesh has the discipline of millennia.'
"Ajak! Ajak, quickly!" Thena cried out, her voice trembling as she knelt beside Gilgamesh, cradling his head. "He's hurt... he needs you!"
"Thena, easy... I'm still here," Gilgamesh grunted, a small, pained smile touching his lips. He saw the genuine fear in her eyes and felt a pang of guilt. He also knew the truth: Noah had pulled his punches. Had those mid-air strikes carried the same lethal intent as the one that broke his shield, Gilgamesh would have returned to the earth as nothing more than red mist.
Ajak arrived, her expression grave but calm. She knelt in the dirt, placing her glowing palms over his chest. A soothing, golden warmth flooded through Gilgamesh's veins, the cosmic energy stitching muscle and skin back together in seconds.
As the light faded and the pain receded, Gilgamesh climbed to his feet, shaking off the last of the dust. He looked at Noah, and for the first time, the look in his eyes wasn't just respect—it was awe.
"Noah... you truly are a monster," he said, his voice thick with genuine admiration. It was one thing for an Eternal to be strong; they were designed for it. But for a child of Earth to reach such heights, to beat a champion of the Celestials at his own game... it was unheard of.
"You fought with the grace of a god, yet the weight of your blows... it's as if the world itself is behind your sword." Gilgamesh shook his head, a wry laugh escaping him. "The most frustrating part? I didn't even get to see your 'magic.' You beat me with a piece of steel and a bit of wind."
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