Thud!
Berserker dropped to one knee, curling his mountain-like body protectively around the fragile girl in his arms.
"Well?" Gilgamesh asked, chin raised with the same overwhelming arrogance as before. "Why not put down your burden at last? Without her, you might still possess the faintest chance of defeating this king."
Emotion flickered across Illya's face as she stared blankly ahead.
Then Berserker moved.
He gently released the arm wrapped around her, rose without a word, and placed himself between Illya and Gilgamesh once more.
"You still refuse to abandon her?"
Gilgamesh watched with faint amusement.
"ROAAAR!"
Crimson bloodlust erupted from Berserker's body.
That was his answer.
"Berserker..."
Illya swayed behind him. Her eyes burned, and the moment his name left her lips, clear tears began streaming down her cheeks.
"Then accept the reality of your defeat." Gilgamesh spread his arms and laughed with wild, unrestrained pride. "How many lives remain within the Twelve Labors? Three? Four? My treasury still holds countless weapons you have yet to see."
Boom!
Berserker launched himself from the shattered floor.
His enormous body soared into the air like a predator pouncing on its prey, his murderous intent fixed entirely on Gilgamesh.
"How pitiful it is to possess no reason."
Gilgamesh laughed scornfully.
Golden portals opened on every side of Berserker, surrounding him completely in midair.
There was nowhere to dodge.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
A storm of Noble Phantasms tore through him once again.
Another life granted by God Hand vanished.
"Die alongside your Master!"
Gilgamesh did not waste the opening.
The Gate of Babylon flooded the chamber with golden light, its weapons aimed at both Berserker and Illya.
The instant he revived, Berserker ignored his own defense and threw himself in front of her.
His stone blade swung wildly, desperately knocking aside every Noble Phantasm that threatened the girl behind him.
Shhk! Shhk!
Weapons punched through his body again and again.
Even so, his feet never moved back a single step.
His fury, his roars, every desperate swing of his blade—everything was for Illya.
The glory of a great hero lay in protecting the weak.
Even stripped of reason and reduced to a beast, the convictions of a hero could never truly disappear.
Shhk!
The final spear pierced Berserker's heart.
It was the prototype of the legendary Spear of Longinus—the divine lance said to have slain a god.
Merely the original form from which that legend had later grown, it still surpassed ordinary Noble Phantasms by an overwhelming margin.
In the final instant before death claimed him, Berserker turned his back and wrapped his body around Illya, shielding her completely.
Another life granted by God Hand disappeared.
Illya was already sobbing uncontrollably.
Her small hands clung to Berserker as his blood flowed over her fingers and soaked into her sleeves.
Her cries were so anguished that they seemed to tear at the heart.
"Still not finished?"
Gilgamesh frowned.
"Had you abandoned your burden from the beginning and challenged this king directly, you might have possessed some chance of victory. In the end, however, you chose wrongly."
He gave a dismissive snort.
"Spend the final moments of your life bidding farewell to your Master."
Neither Berserker nor Illya answered.
Her face was covered in tears.
Berserker had revived once more, but this time he merely looked down at her in silence.
Though all reason had supposedly been stripped from him, his gaze now carried a clarity and emotion that had not been there before.
"Berserker... Berserker..."
Illya sobbed.
She had imagined the loneliness that would follow if Berserker returned to the Throne of Heroes after the Holy Grail War.
She had even thought about using the Grail to keep him in the world.
But she had never imagined this.
She had never imagined Berserker losing.
From the very beginning, she had believed one thing with all her heart.
Berserker was the strongest.
He could never lose.
Never!
Illya wept in despair.
Deep inside, she finally understood.
Perhaps this was the moment of their final farewell.
At that instant, a dull gray gemstone slipped out from beneath her clothes.
It was the treasure Heracles had given her, and she had worn it against her chest ever since receiving it.
The moment it appeared, a faint light flashed within Berserker's clouded eyes.
His mouth opened as though he wanted to say something, but no meaningful sound emerged.
Illya continued crying, completely unaware of the change in his expression.
Then a drop of blood ran down her wrist and fell onto the gemstone.
Drip.
The faint sound rang out with startling clarity.
The stone slowly began to change.
The murky gray film covering its surface faded away, and a dazzling light emerged from within.
Illya stopped crying.
She stared at the gemstone in astonishment, cupping it in both hands before looking back up at Berserker.
Only then did she notice the strange change in his expression.
"Berserker... Do you want this?"
Hope rushed into her face.
"Rrgh..."
Berserker growled softly.
He still could not speak. His desire for the gemstone came from nothing more than a powerful instinct rising from deep within him.
Illya seized the stone and pulled.
The cord snapped.
She placed the gemstone in Berserker's palm.
At once, his clouded eyes began to change.
From a distance, Gilgamesh instinctively sensed that something was wrong.
A danger intense enough to set every nerve in his body on edge was slowly awakening.
He frowned, his gaze becoming grave as he stared at the kneeling great hero.
His instincts told him that the danger came from Berserker.
Yet he refused to believe that someone already pushed to the brink could still accomplish anything.
And even if he could, so what?
Gilgamesh was the invincible King of Heroes.
A supreme ruler who had once challenged the authority of the gods would never fear something as insignificant as danger.
Then Berserker rose.
Strangely, the savage pressure around him had vanished.
Until now, his body had always radiated the ferocity of a wild beast.
At this moment, however, he was as calm as an autumn lake.
Something was very wrong.
With his back still turned toward Gilgamesh, Berserker raised one hand and made a gentle stroking motion.
The King of Heroes' pupils widened.
A shocking possibility rippled through his thoughts.
"Illya, would you go somewhere safe and wait for me?"
The instant Berserker spoke, Gilgamesh's expression darkened.
His suspicion had been correct.
Berserker had regained his reason.
Illya hurried deeper into the castle in search of somewhere safe.
Only Gilgamesh and Berserker remained.
At last, Berserker turned around.
He looked calmly at Gilgamesh, his gaze carrying the effortless authority of a god looking down upon a mortal.
The arrogant king lifted the corner of his mouth.
"You have regained your reason? Did that vessel do something?"
Berserker simply shook his head.
That only deepened Gilgamesh's interest.
"How fascinating. For such an anomaly to appear during the Holy Grail War... Those magi would surely be horrified if they knew. A Berserker who retains reason—now that has truly caught this king's attention."
"To torment the weak is among the most disgraceful of acts," Berserker replied. "For a king to behave that way is lower still."
"Heh... Hehehe... Hahahahaha!"
Gilgamesh's laughter filled the hall.
"This king is the king! Every land beneath heaven and every human who walks upon it belongs to my dominion. Even if I ordered those humans to offer up their lives, they should thank me for the honor!"
"What an absurd claim. You truly are a tyrant."
"And that is exactly what one would expect a righteous hero to say. How laughable!"
"Fuhahahahaha! When have I ever denied it?" Gilgamesh spread his arms. "That is correct! This king is a tyrant—the oldest king of mankind and ruler of all beneath heaven and earth! Gilgamesh!"
"I see."
Berserker held his heavy stone blade with complete calm.
"Then I understand."
The gemstone had already merged silently into his body.
It was a supreme divine treasure once enshrined within Athena's temple.
Its power allowed it to create a duplicate of its recognized owner, complete with the same abilities.
When Heracles completed Athena's task, the goddess had rewarded him with the gemstone. From that day onward, the treasure recognized him as its master.
Heracles himself had never needed it.
He was already far too powerful.
That was why he had given it to Illya, hoping that if she ever faced danger, another version of him could appear and protect her.
Yet when the gemstone activated moments earlier, some mysterious force prevented Heracles's duplicate from manifesting.
Berserker, however, was already there.
He was the legendary great hero summoned into the world as a Servant.
Even stripped of reason, he was still fundamentally Heracles.
As a result, the treasure underwent an abnormal transformation.
Under the influence of another mysterious power, it merged directly into Berserker's body.
It restored the intellect that had once belonged to Heracles and granted him half the abilities of the great hero at his absolute peak—the man who had once possessed enough power to challenge the gods themselves.
The gemstone copied those abilities perfectly.
In that moment, the legendary great hero was reborn.
At the same time, Berserker's original parameters changed beyond recognition.
"My name is Heracles, a traveler who once walked the lands of Greece." His voice remained calm. "I hope you remember it well, humanity's oldest king. Soon, you will pay the price for tormenting the weak."
Gilgamesh laughed as though he had heard the finest joke imaginable.
"Fuhahahahaha! Good... Very good! Only now has this truly become worthy of entertaining me!"
Pure-gold armor appeared over his body, replacing his casual clothes.
It shone with the same dazzling majesty it had possessed in ancient times, while the pressure radiating from him multiplied several times over.
Only now had the King of Heroes truly become serious.
"Come, Heracles! Defeat me with your valor and show me the full measure of your greatness!"
"Then let us see."
Heracles said nothing more.
He pushed off the ground and shot forward.
His speed far surpassed anything Berserker had displayed before.
For the first time in the battle, Gilgamesh retreated.
With a light tap of his foot, he shot backward.
Hum, hum, hum!
Countless golden portals opened.
An overwhelming barrage of weapons roared toward Heracles.
This time, however, the great hero moved with the graceful precision of a butterfly drifting through a field of flowers.
It was not mindless violence.
It was combat perfected into art.
In a single motion, Heracles reached behind himself, caught one of the approaching weapons, and hurled it back toward Gilgamesh with all his strength.
Even halved, the power that had once upheld the heavens in legend could still overturn mountains and seas.
The golden spear tore through the air like an aurora.
For the first time, panic and anger flashed across Gilgamesh's face.
He threw himself aside.
But in the very next instant, Heracles was already in front of him.
A fist as vast and heavy as a mountain crashed forward with immeasurable force.
Even Apollo, god of the sun, could not have taken such a blow head-on.
The fist struck Gilgamesh's golden armor.
Tiny cracks appeared across its surface before repairing themselves almost immediately.
Gilgamesh himself, however, was blasted through the castle wall and sent flying into the distance.
Heracles narrowed his eyes.
He kicked off a falling piece of rubble and shot after him like a meteor.
"Do not become arrogant, mongrel!"
Gilgamesh's furious roar shook the sky.
Countless golden ripples appeared once more, unleashing an even greater storm of Noble Phantasms.
There were far more than before.
"Skin of the Nemean Lion!"
Heracles roared.
A golden lion pelt spread across his body, and a helmet shaped like a lion's head formed over his own.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
A sight Gilgamesh could scarcely believe unfolded before him.
His Noble Phantasms could not pierce the lion's hide.
"Nine Lives!"
"Stymphalian Bronze Bird!"
"War God's Belt!"
A bow appeared in Heracles's hand, its surface carved with the image of a nine-headed hydra.
At the same time, a bronze bird transformed into an arrow and settled against the bowstring.
As Heracles drew the weapon and aimed at Gilgamesh, a blood-red light wrapped around his waist and formed a belt.
The moment it fastened, the danger radiating from the bow and arrow surged several levels higher.
Gilgamesh's heart tightened beneath the weapon's aim.
For the first time, he sensed the threat of death.
"Vimana!"
An extravagant golden craft appeared beneath him.
He boarded it at once and fled into the distance.
But Heracles had already released the arrow.
In midair, the projectile transformed back into a bronze bird.
It gave a piercing cry and tore through the sky after Gilgamesh.
The bow and belt dissolved into points of light and temporarily vanished.
Heracles watched the bronze bird pursue the King of Heroes across the distant sky.
After several moments, he turned away.
For now, the battle could be considered over.