The clash between magecraft and divinity had reached a fever pitch. Golden portals shimmered like stars across the fractured sky, each one birthing weapons of legend forged in the Age of Gods. Gilgamesh, the King of Heroes, floated with regal indifference, yet his ruby eyes burned with focused intensity. This was no longer a casual diversion. Every golden weapon emerged from his Gate of Babylon at the precise moment and angle required—no wasted movement, no hesitation born of arrogance. For him, this was a test: skill against skill, human magecraft against the mastery of a divine treasury.
Opposite him stood Raphael Arzenon, a 17-year-old rookie mage whose crimson eyes gleamed with exhilaration despite the blood streaking his face. His Execution Gates—gray portals of raw destructive potential—hung in the air like judgment itself. A grin spread across his soot-streaked features, not mocking, but filled with pure, unadulterated joy. This was fun. Fighting on equal terms, without the crushing weight of fear or despair. Two extraordinary beings clashing in a storm of magical warfare so intense that the ground cracked and splintered beneath the backlash of their colliding energies.
In the depths of Raphael's Inner World, within the shimmering confines of the Incomplete Codex Akasha, a synthetic voice broke through.
"Master," Cielux announced calmly, her form materializing beside him. "I have finished analyzing Gilgamesh's Levitation Treasure. By replicating its blueprint, you have gained the ability to levitate at will."
Raphael's grin widened, though exhaustion tugged at the edges of his expression. "How interesting. But let's keep that for later. I don't want to start flying randomly without practice."
Cielux's face turned serious, her digital eyes sharpening. "Master… I will take over the fight now."
Raphael blinked, confusion flashing across his features. "But you can't fight without a physical body."
Cielux smirked, a spark of confidence lighting her usually composed demeanor. "That is precisely why I developed the Execution Gates for us. This allows me to attack our opponents without needing my own body. Let me take control of the Execution Gates' aiming precision."
Raphael hesitated inwardly. I should say no… But the truth weighed heavy—his body screamed with fatigue, his mind pushed to its limits. With a nod, he yielded control.
—Switch—
Miles away, in the rubble-strewn streets of a ruined district, another desperate battle unfolded. Omega Heinriel staggered to his feet, cradling the injured Ciel protectively against his chest. His left arm throbbed from a searing gash inflicted by dark energy. Before them loomed Saber Alter—Artoria Pendragon twisted by corruption—her black armor gleaming ominously as she raised Excalibur Morgan. The twisted blade pulsed with void-like energy.
Without pause, she swung. A wide arc of dark power ripped forward, slicing through concrete and air alike. Omega barely managed to backpedal in the final two seconds, but the edge of the blast caught his left arm, burning deeper. Pain flared white-hot, yet he refused to drop Ciel.
Back in the aerial battlefield, the air itself tore apart under Cielux's command. Raphael's Execution Gates, now guided by her flawless information-processing, unleashed a storm of absolute precision. The barrage came ten times faster than any Noble Phantasm on record. Each spell was laser-focused: a curse locked onto Gilgamesh's right shoulder, an elemental spear piercing the exact space where he might dodge, necromantic beasts summoned at flanking vectors to eliminate blind spots.
Every trajectory was calculated to the millisecond. Reality flickered under the density of the assault.
Gilgamesh reacted—not as a distant king, but as a warrior fully engaged. His golden eyes tracked each threat with divine acuity. His Gate of Babylon erupted in response. Swords blocked cursed flames, shields absorbed elemental spears, divine fire incinerated summoned beasts before they could close in.
Yet pressure mounted. For the first time in eons, the King of Heroes was truly reacting, every nerve tuned to survival against this new storm of human ingenuity.
—Switch—
Omega Heinriel gripped Caliburn with his right arm, swinging it to meet Excalibur Morgan. Steel clashed in a storm of sparks. Pain radiated from his injured limb, but determination burned brighter. "What is your end goal in attacking us?" he shouted mid-exchange, blocking another devastating swing.
Saber Alter offered no reply. Her yellow eyes remained empty voids. She pivoted with inhuman speed, aiming for his wounded shoulder.
Omega groaned through gritted teeth. "Fine. In that case, I will simply destroy you with everything I've got until you can't fight back anymore!"
His resolve ignited. Forcing his left hand onto Caliburn's hilt despite the agony, he met her blows with clinical precision. Block after block. Then—an opening. He lunged, elbow striking her jaw with brutal force. A crack formed across one glowing yellow eye.
Saber Alter recoiled. For the first time, her rhythm broke.
Raphael's body collapsed to one knee in the primary battlefield. Blood streamed from his eyes, ears, and mouth—overloads tearing at his mortal frame. In his Inner World, his spiritual body screamed in agony as informational backlash surged.
"AAAAAAAGHHHHHHH—!!"
Cielux rushed to him in panic. "MASTER! Please speak to me!"
Raphael clutched his head, spiritrons cracking around him. "GHHHAAAAAAAH—!! It hurts everywhere… My mind is exploding—too much data…!!"
Cielux pulled back the leaking flows, tears in her voice. "I'm sorry, Master… In my excitement, I failed to organize the Codex properly. The overflow—"
"It's my fault too," Raphael gasped, forcing a pained smile despite blood dripping from his lips. "As your Master… I should have prepared."
Cielux trembled. "You should step down—"
"ABSOLUTELY NOT!!" Raphael roared, eyes blazing. "If we quit now, Gilgamesh will see us as weaklings forever. That is worse than death!"
—Switch—
Omega closed his eyes, letting Saber Alter's slashes nearly reach him before time seemed to slow in his focused mind. Caliburn rose in perfect parries—CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!—deflecting five devastating strikes. With the final block, he pushed back hard. Saber Alter skidded across the pavement.
She regained her footing, hesitation flickering in her corrupted gaze for the first time.
Omega offered a half-smile, breathing heavily. "If you have nothing to say, then Ciel and I will leave. But know this—whoever you are, I bet you were a proud knight once. I respect that. I myself am a Holy Knight. I wish to be a great knight like King Arthur, Gawain… even King David. It's thanks to legends like you that I can stand here and push beyond my limits. Those guys wouldn't have given up either."
The wind stilled.
Saber Alter's grip tightened on her blade. The names—Arthur, Gawain—echoed through her fractured core.
"…Wait."
She stepped forward deliberately and extended a small black pouch: bandages, gauze, a regeneration serum.
Raphael forced himself upright, blood still flowing. "Wow, no speech? Alright then. I'll use this." His Execution Gates shifted color—from gray to an eerie, soul-piercing blue. "Now every spell is infused with Soul Destruction. If a single one hits you, it will be a direct attack on your soul."
He opened 900 more portals. One thousand Execution Gates total aligned like a constellation of annihilation.
They fired simultaneously.
A thousand soul-destroying spells screamed toward Gilgamesh in perfect synchronization. The sky fractured under the pressure.
Gilgamesh's Gate of Babylon responded with hundreds of weapons—swords, shields, spears intercepting the barrage in mid-air. Golden light clashed with blue annihilation. Weapons shattered, melted, vaporized. Yet the King held, pure survival mode activated.
One thin beam slipped through after seven interceptions. It struck his chest, connecting with his soul.
Raphael seized the moment. "Cielux, now!"
In the Inner World, Cielux activated Atom Manipulation, separating the spiritrons of Gilgamesh's Saint Graph.
Gilgamesh flickered. His form destabilized, golden light peeling away as he began to unsummon.
—Switch—
Omega accepted the pouch, confusion evident. "Why are you helping me?"
Saber Alter's voice, rough from disuse, broke the silence. "You fight… with honor. I was a knight once too."
Omega's eyes widened. "Really? What is your name as a knight, so I may remember you?"
She hesitated, then whispered with quiet dignity: "Artoria Pendragon."
"Really? You are the King of Knights, Artoria Pendragon?!" Omega dropped to one knee in a bow of deep respect.
Artoria froze. No one had shown her such honor in centuries. She stepped forward, gently lifting his chin with two fingers, then placed her hands on his shoulders in a knighting gesture. A genuine, warm smile touched her lips—the first in ages.
"Rise… Sir Omega Heinriel."
He stood. "If I may… do you think it possible for me to be a knight like you? Not one who rules over other knights, but one who rules over their own swordsmanship as an honorable knight?"
Artoria placed a hand over her heart. "Any man who fights with courage… protects the weak without pride… honors his oaths even when no one watches… is already on the path toward knighthood. You are closer than you know."
Omega smiled softly, glancing at Caliburn. "Thank you."
Artoria regarded the holy blade with quiet approval. "That sword chooses only those worthy. If Caliburn follows you… then you are already more than just 'a' knight. You are one."
Back to Raphael
The battlefield with Gilgamesh fell eerily quiet as his form continued to dissolve into shimmering particles of light. Raphael, on his knees but victorious, looked up at the fading King.
"Oh yeah… I never told you my name, did I? I am Raphael Arzenon—the rookie mage who desires to reclaim all the lost Magics of the Age of Gods Era. So, Gilgamesh… what are your last words to me before you fade back into the Throne of Heroes?"
Gilgamesh's ruby eyes met his. Even as his divine presence unraveled, he smiled—small, genuine, approving.
"Raphael Arzenon… You are not worthy to stand beside me." A pause, his voice softening with unexpected calm. "But you have earned my respect. And I will remember your name."
His form flickered like a dying star. "…I will return."
Then he was gone. Only silence and dissipating magical energy remained. Raphael Arzenon knelt alone—bloody, broken, but triumphant.
In the parallel ruins, Artoria and Omega shared a moment of quiet understanding amid the wreckage, two knights from different eras bridged by honor. The parallel storms had passed, leaving changed warriors in their wake. Yet both knew the greater war was only beginning.