Erold stood before the dilapidated building, his gaze wandering between the cracks in its termite-eaten wooden walls, then he turned to the girl with features clouded by suspicion: "Where are we really heading? This is a wretched tavern that is about to fall on its patrons' heads, not the Royal Palace."
The girl grew only more mysterious; she merely offered a cold smile and pointed gently toward the door, saying: "Go ahead and enter.. The Prince is waiting for you inside."
Erold pushed the door open to enter with cautious steps, and was met by heavy air smelling of old wood and cheap liquor. The place was semi-abandoned; no guards, no servants, and no gold.. just four commoners drowned in their drunkenness, exchanging scattered conversations in low voices. Erold froze in his place, and whispered in a tone filled with confusion: "Which person here is Gilgamesh?"
His eyes fell on a bulky man, sitting in a dark corner, with thick black hair covering his features, and a body that suggested strength. Erold approached him with caution, placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, and said in a firm voice: "I think you are Gilgamesh…"
The man raised his head slowly, and his features revealed a weary face with dull eyes overcome by drunkenness. He looked at Erold with extreme surprise, then said in a heavy voice: "Gilgamesh? Who are you talking about, boy? I am just a porter at the port.."
The bulky man had barely finished his words when the tavern door burst open violently, and the mercenary "Shadiss" stormed the place with his sharp features and confident smile. He cast his gaze around before his eyes fixed on a secluded corner, and said in a tone dripping with mockery: "Just as I expected.. Princes love hiding in the dirtiest dens. I will always find you here."
Erold tensed, and his hand nearly drew Thorn from its scabbard, but the bulky man stopped him with his hollow voice and a look that carried a veiled mockery: "What are you babbling about, boy? Gilgamesh?"
Then he raised his hand and pointed, with strange calmness, toward a dark corner of the tavern. There, a man sat who didn't draw attention in the middle of the place; with handsome features framed by a recently grown beard, his golden hair dull, unkempt as if road dust had mixed with it, and his strange eyes gleaming with an ancient depth. His long fingers toyed with his half-empty glass indifferently, and he looked at the table in a daze as if he were drunk.
Shadiss approached him with steady steps and said in a low voice: "You… Gilgamesh."
The man with the golden hair raised his head slowly, let out a short, dry laugh, then asked coldly: "And what do you want from him?"
Shadiss smiled a cold smile, then muttered: "I have a gift for him."
In a flash that the eye could not perceive, he drew a poisoned dagger and plunged it with all his might into the man's chest. Erold screamed in panic as he jumped from his place: "What have you done, you fool?!"
But Shadiss did not turn around; instead, he ran out of the tavern at top speed, leaving Gilgamesh behind, as if the demons of the earth were chasing him.
The stabbed man fell, leaning his back against the dilapidated wood, and while blood flowed onto his faded shirt, something happened that no one expected.. A hollow laugh erupted from him, a laugh that was not for pain, but for ecstasy! He looked at the ceiling with glazed eyes and rambled: "This.. this is truly amusing.. Hahaha.."
Suddenly, the air pressure in the tavern changed, and his voice began to amplify and echo, not only from his throat but from the walls, from under the ground, and from the ceiling, as if the entire place had become a body for him: "The Soul Realm… the Drunkenness of Death."
The tavern turned bit by bit before Erold's eyes into a huge hall, from whose pillars hung shining red fabrics decorating the place as if it were a luxurious curtain. Eight rectangular tables were distributed regularly, with a wide space between them for sitting and celebrating.
The strangest thing was that every table had two girls on it: one standing on top of the table dancing lightly, while the other held a huge jar and poured wine into golden cups that never emptied. The scene was as if it were the sudden birth of a bygone time, a noisy celebration taking place in the middle of nowhere.
"Arthur" jumped beside Erold, his eyes widening in childish amazement: "Oh my God! Are these maids?!"
Erold contemplated the red curtains arranged between the pillars, and the lighting that made the hall look amazing and strange at the same time. But the big surprise was Shadiss's head lying on the ground without a body. He turned quickly, only to see Arthur looking at him shocked: "What is the situation here, buddy?"
Erold answered while tightening his grip on his sword, trying to gather the pieces of his mind: "I don't know.."
Before he could finish, strange music began to play in the hall, unlike any familiar melody. Arthur raised his eyebrows in shock: "My God… what is this music?"
Erold turned toward Arthur to ask him to be careful, but the words froze in his throat; for he found Arthur had already immersed himself in the strange tune, dancing in the heart of the hall with amazing lightness as if he had forgotten the severed head. Arthur danced nonchalantly. Then he shouted: "Take the matter seriously, Arthur!"
But his shout was lost amidst a sudden roar; for the voice of "Gilgamesh," who was bleeding a moment ago, rose. The Prince stood swaying to the right and left, and the dagger was still embedded in his chest as if it were a trivial ornament. He raised his golden cup, which overflowed with wine, and shouted in a drunken, booming voice: "Let the celebration beginnnnn!"
At that moment, the place erupted with a hysterical energy. A crowd had gathered for a single purpose: to revel. The laughter of the maidservants rang out like the chirping of birds laced with madness, their dancing atop the tables quickening until their feet barely seemed to touch the wood. Wine flowed so profusely that it overflowed the brims, and the hall transformed into a never-ending feast.
Gilgamesh sat on his large chair, raised the cup high, then drank greedily, before shouting jubilantly: "My God! This is what I want… this is what I want!"
While he continued laughing and dancing with the maids, the whole place shook to the beat of the music.
Arthur was swaying his spiritual body with amazing lightness, and ecstasy appeared in his eyes. He turned toward Erold with a playful laugh while spinning around himself: "What a splendor this melody is! Tell me, buddy.. do you want us to put an end to his life now and finish this show?"
Erold gritted his teeth, fed up with this scene, and answered in a decisive tone: "No, we need him. But… perhaps we should make him lose consciousness so this madness stops."
Arthur waved his hand in the air while continuing his dance: "Then.. let's try force!"
But Erold reached out his hand to stop him and said with cautious calmness: "Let me try something else first."
He approached with steady steps, ignoring the maids who were dancing around him and pouring wine. He raised his voice toward Gilgamesh, who was sitting swaying on his chair, cup in hand: "Gilgamesh! We are here to talk… we don't want to fight."
Gilgamesh turned slowly, with features of surprise on his face, as if he hadn't noticed their presence until now. He looked at them from the corner of his eye, then went back to sipping from his cup, ignoring Erold's call as if it hadn't been.
Arthur burst out laughing while approaching closer, and shouted mockingly: "Look at him! It seems the Prince is so drowned in his wine that he can no longer see the difference between humans and mosquitoes… let's do it our way then!"
In one moment, the two took off like two arrows in the heart of the hall. Erold and Arthur lunged in amazing harmony, dodging lightly the bodies of men and the maidservants who swayed around them like barriers of silk and flesh. The music grew louder, and the hysterical laughter tore through the air, while they carved their way amidst the organized destruction, heading directly toward the throne where the drunken Prince sat.
Arthur jumped onto the table, shattering the cups under his feet, and lunged toward the Prince with a lightning strike aimed at his head. But Gilgamesh swayed his body with amazing ease, as if he were made of smoke; his movements followed the rhythm of the mysterious music with extreme precision, right and left, in a defensive dance. Erold tried to intervene to snatch an opportunity amidst this swaying, but the Prince caught them both off guard with what they did not expect; and with speed inconsistent with his drunken state, Gilgamesh delivered a resounding punch that threw Arthur first, then followed it with another soaked in spiritual power that sent Erold flying backward to collide with the ground.
And while they were panting and trying to regain their balance, Gilgamesh had returned to his madness; he grabbed the waist of one of the maids and spun her in a fast circle in the middle of the hall, his loud laughter filling the place as if the duel that took place seconds ago was nothing but a heavy-handed joke. He didn't see them as enemies, but as nuisances who ruined his pleasure, his laughter echoing as if he didn't care about everyone around him.
Arthur rose from the ground, anger burning in his eyes, and shouted in a sharp voice: "What has gotten into you, Erold?! Why are you hesitating? This monster is mocking us!"
Erold raised his hand, not to silence him, but to ask for patience; his eyes were watching the movement of the bleeding in Gilgamesh's chest and the harmony of the music with his pulse, and he said in a low voice filled with doubt: "Wait, Arthur.. I don't want to hurt him. There is something very strange in this place.."
Erold turned to see what he did not expect: a girl with curly brown hair and a calm face wrapping around Gilgamesh's neck, her arms surrounding him from behind, clinging to him. Her body was not solid, but rather like a gentle, transparent ghost mixing with the red light of the hall.
Gilgamesh's features changed in a second; cruelty melted and broken tenderness took its place, he tightened his grip on the spirit's hand and whispered in a voice overwhelmed by tears: "Have you truly returned… my dear? The loss was bitter.. come, let us dance as we used to do in the past."
[He took] a step backward, his thinking paralyzed by the scene, then he shouted in extreme confusion: "What is this madness?! Erold, look at his chest.. the place of the stab.. it has disappeared! The blade didn't even leave a scratch mark!"
Erold's features froze in shock that made his voice tremble: "Impossible.."
Erold lunged with a warrior's instinct, and swooped down on Gilgamesh, grabbing his arms with all the physical strength he had, and at that moment, Arthur jumped like lightning to stab his back with his spiritual dagger. But the thunderbolt was in what happened next; the blade had barely come out when the wound healed immediately, and the skin returned smooth as if nothing had been before their eyes.
Erold trembled as he shouted: "He recovers from any injury immediately! Is this because of the Soul Realm… or because of that ghost?!"
Gilgamesh flared with anger, as if their attempt to wake him had ruined his sacred dream. He pushed them away with brutal force that sent them to the edge of the hall, and shouted in a voice that shook the pillars: "I don't want to wake up!"
He grabbed his cup and raised it, drinking greedily as if drowning himself further in drunkenness.
At that moment, Erold's eyes shone with the glimmer of deduction, and his tense movement stopped suddenly as he shouted: "Arthur… I know how we get out of here!"
Arthur turned toward him, and sweat was pouring from his forehead due to the arduous effort in matching the Prince's power, and shouted in a breathless voice: "Huh?!"
Erold raised his index finger pointing to the cup, and shouted in a voice that pierced the ringing of the music: "Remember the condition of the Soul Realm… it is the Drunkenness of Death! If we prevent him from drinking… he will wake up!"
Arthur jumped with enthusiasm, laughing insanely: "Cleverrrr!!"
Arthur lunged first, dragging behind him a phantom of light, and targeted Gilgamesh's chest with a strike that was supposed to be fatal. But the Prince, with a graceful sideways move that seemed like part of a dance, escaped the blade at the last moment, then plunged his fist into Arthur's stomach. Arthur's body arched from the intensity of the pain, and he felt as if his guts had been crushed, and he nearly vomited light from the sheer power that resided in that punch.
At the same moment, Erold lunged from behind, his sword heading toward Gilgamesh's shoulder, but the latter turned suddenly, gripped Erold's wrist with a hand of iron, then pushed him with force until he collided with the table, wine cups flying into the air and scattering on the ground.
"He is very strong!" Erold shouted as he tried to get up.
Gilgamesh burst into a hoarse laugh that filled the hall with echoes, swaying right and left due to drunkenness, and shouted in a tone combining friendliness and threat: "What is wrong with you? Aren't we here to celebrate? Then stop frowning and dance with me! Life is short and doesn't wait!"
Arthur jumped again, this time performing an evasive move, spun around the table and shouted: "Erold! Attack him from the right!"
But Gilgamesh remained standing in his center, pointing to them with his hand with all pride, and the smile never left his drunken face, as if he were seeing two children trying to follow a giant, pointing to him with his hand: "Come to me!"
"Here I come!" shouted Arthur in a tone overwhelmed by fighting ecstasy, and jumped over the rectangular tables with amazing agility, shattering the cups under his feet as he lunged directly toward Gilgamesh.
The two lunged at the same time, Arthur from the right and Erold from the left. But Gilgamesh, with an amazing innate move, raised his bare hands as if they were cast from mountain rock; one of his fists parried Erold's sword in a clash that created sparks, while his other hand launched like a thunderbolt to punch Arthur in his jaw with massive force. Arthur rebounded backward and sparks flew from his eyes, to fall between the feet of the maids who had not stopped dancing, as if his fallen body was nothing but part of the hall floor.
Erold did not hesitate; he took advantage of Gilgamesh's preoccupation with Arthur, and dropped his body to deliver a treacherous stab toward the Prince's leg, looking to paralyze his dancing movement. But Gilgamesh's reaction was beyond imagination; he raised his knee with brutal force to collide with the sword blade, which deflected the path of the strike and made it hit the air, then he plummeted his heavy fist like a hammer on Erold's back. Erold fell to the ground.
Arthur stood, cracked his neck, then let out a light laugh tinged with defiance: "It seems that we are taking matters more seriously than necessary, Erold.. Do you feel what I feel? We are not facing just a drunken person, but a ferocious monster wearing human clothes!"
On the other hand, Erold was rising with terrifying stillness, as if the pain he had received had turned into mysterious fuel. He gripped his sword "Thorn" with his hands, and suddenly.. the blade shook violently, and a halo emerged from it half light and half darkness. He stared at the blade in astonishment and whispered: "By the Creator… what is this doing?"
Arthur replied, waving his dagger: "I noticed strange speed and power when we used them previously… I think this is their true effect."
Arthur lunged first, his dagger splitting the air with lightning speed, Gilgamesh blocked the strike with his bare forearm and the whole hall shook from the force of the collision. Erold swooped from behind, passing Thorn through Gilgamesh's shoulder and opening a deep wound.
But Gilgamesh did not scream.. but laughed. And with a savage move, he gripped Erold's sword blade with his bare hand. Erold went mad and began raining fast punches on him, trying to force him to let go of the blade, and they exchanged blows violently. And when Erold tried to get rid of the sword and move away, Gilgamesh clung to him while letting out a crazy laugh that shook the bones. And with a move that only a monster would make, he gripped Erold's sword blade with his hand, not caring about its sharp edge that cuts flesh and bone, trying to wrench it from him.
"Let go of the sword, you madman!" Erold shouted, and rained fast and consecutive punches on Gilgamesh's face and chest to force him to leave the weapon. The scene turned into a savage hand-to-hand fight, in which they exchanged punches that were enough to topple armies, until Gilgamesh loosened his grip for a moment.
Erold seized the opportunity, and instead of pulling the sword, he threw it high into the air with a rotating movement, shouting at the top of his voice: "Catch it, Arthur!"
Arthur carved his way through the air, and caught "Thorn" with proficiency, and with lightning speed driven by Erold's shout, he plummeted the double blade onto the wrist that had been blocking him moments ago. In the blink of an eye, Gilgamesh's hand was separated from his body, and rolled on the marble tile to stain it with a waterfall of blood.
Arthur stood panting, and the ecstasy of victory filled his voice as he shouted: "The monster has fallen!"
Arthur threw the sword back to Erold, but before he could catch his breath, Gilgamesh's tissues began to shimmer, and the blood receded against the current. The severed hand grew back with insane speed until he returned as he was in a matter of seconds.
Arthur froze in his place, screaming in astonishment that tore the silence: "What is this crazy world?! He regenerates with insane speed, is he immortal or what?!"
Gilgamesh did not wait to hear the answer; his cold smile turned into an omen of evil, and he lunged like a thunderbolt, delivering a punch to Arthur's stomach. Arthur flew into the air as if he were a feather in the face of a fierce wind, colliding with the marble wall with a force that caused cracks in the construction and left him reeling.
And with savage speed, the Prince turned toward Erold; he left him no room to think or maneuver. Gilgamesh's fists rained down on Thorn's blade like giant hammers, strike after strike with an impact that shook the corners. Erold felt every strike echoing in his arm joints, and the blade shook between his hands with violent vibrations that nearly broke his wrist bones, while the light and darkness in the sword struggled to hold out against this mighty pressure.
Erold flew into the air before falling and colliding with the marble, and he remained panting violently while the sword "Thorn" glowed between his trembling fingers, as if the sword was supplying him with the last remnants of remaining energy.
At that moment, Arthur rose with agility from the corner of the hall, ignoring his pains, and jumped to stand beside one of the huge jars overflowing with wine. He turned toward Erold with a cunning smile, and said in a loud voice: "I think there is a better solution… let's break all the wine here!"
Erold's eyes widened, as if Arthur's words were the thunderbolt that illuminated his mind, and he shouted as he tried to rise, leaning on his blade: "It truly didn't occur to me.. well done, Arthur!"
Arthur took off like a rogue hurricane, splitting the ranks of the maids whose dancing had turned into silent screams of horror. And with consecutive strikes from his spiritual dagger, he shattered seven huge jars, for the purple wine to explode, drowning the marble, and with every jar that shattered, the hall's light dimmed and the red curtains faded. Nothing remained except one jar, sitting like the last fortress beside Gilgamesh's throne.
"Leave it to me!" shouted Arthur, and lunged toward the Prince to capture his attention. A savage hand-to-hand fight broke out; they exchanged punches that were shaking the space around them, and Arthur shouted in a voice choked with intense pain: "Hurry, Erold! This madman doesn't feel my strikes."
Erold seized the opportunity, and carved his way toward the last jar, and plummeted with his sword "Thorn" with all his weight.
The pottery shattered and the fragments scattered, for the last fortress of oblivion to flow onto the ground. Erold whispered while panting with fatigue: "Finally.."
Gilgamesh turned toward Erold with eyes starting to be invaded by painful clarity, and in that moment of distraction, Arthur lunged with all that remained to him of strength and delivered a massive punch that settled in the Prince's jaw, shouting with it in a tone of vengeance: "This is for me.."
Gilgamesh fell to his knees, then sprawled on the ground and the red glow withdrew from the place. He whispered in a fragmented voice that tore the heart: "No… I don't want to wake up…"
He grabbed the hand of the girl who was clinging to him, and tightened his grip on it madly while crying: "I don't want to leave you again, oh Ilia…"
"Ilia" leaned over him with an angelic smile, and touched his face with a delicate touch that his material body no longer felt, and said in a whispering voice that melted into the void: "We will meet again, my dear…"
The world around them crumbled, for the table and the hall to exit in a state of chaos, for Gilgamesh to fall to the ground unconscious.
Erold sighed deeply, wiping the sweat from his forehead, and said as he leaned down to carry the Prince: "I must return him to the palace."
But, before his hands touched the Prince's body, he froze in his place. The hairs on his neck stood up in terror, and a heavy and sudden stillness prevailed, as if the air in the tavern had turned into lead. It was not just an intention to kill.. but it was an aura of pure annihilation the likes of which he had never witnessed in his life, not in human wars nor in facing monsters.
And amidst this pressure, "Astra's" voice pierced his consciousness, a voice charged with panic: "Erold.. do not fight him.. get out of here immediately! It is….."
The voice was cut off suddenly, as if an invisible hand had intervened, or that the surrounding darkness had swallowed the connection itself. A terrifying silence prevailed for one second, before a voice wavered instead of Astra's voice, a deep and cold voice, carrying the pride of Hell: "Who dares to interfere in my pleasure?"