Author's notes: Some bits are not historically accurate - you'll see why when you get to it. This is the first portion of the Babylon arc. A second update is coming soon, so some parts will NOT make sense.

Yet.

Thank you for reading.


"So, Archer…Since we've got time, and I don't feel like sleeping yet, why don't you tell me about yourself?"

Rin poked at the fire with a stick as the sorceress and her servant sat facing each other. She honestly didn't know Archer was a great cook, especially after he generated a balanced dinner from her field rations. The Servant, however, was completely silent as he watched the kettle intently, willing it to boil.

It was as if he didn't want to talk about his past, Rin thought. The prospect only made her more curious as she sensed Archer turn icy. Trying to figure out a way to warm him back up, Rin continued.

"In the last Heaven's Feel…Archer, I don't know if you remember this, seeing how you were summoned without complete memories. Do you remember how we met?"

"Mhm." Archer replied, his eyes still fixed on the kettle.

"You know, arguments aside, you were much more talkative mere moments ago when you insisted on pointing out the errors in my pathfinding skills," Rin continued. She could tell that he did indeed remember their initial encounter, judging from his sardonic smile. He literally had a smashing entrance – plowing right through the roof.

"When I summoned you, I had my doubts. Archer, you aren't really like an Archer at all, are you? You're more of the …" Rin smiled as she looked at him. The shadows danced on her former Servant's face, outlining his chiseled face. "…Jack-of-all-trades class, if there is such a thing."

"Mhm."

"You were sort of rude at first…but for someone so outwardly cold and ruthless, you sure had a soft side, don't you? I mean, you cleaned up my living room after that mess you made. And you can cook and make tea. If I didn't know better I would have guessed you to be a maidservant or something."

She wasn't sure why she felt slightly bashful, but Rin kept on speaking in order to fuel the conversation.

"Mhm."

"You taught me a lot, Archer. I had knowledge from texts, but you gave me real-world tips with things like mana management."

"Mhm."

"I see you still have that same attitude…Maybe we should save this discussion for a later time?"

"Mhm."

"…Do you even know who you are?"

"Mhm."

"…Archer, are you even listening to me?!"

"Mhm," Archer grunted as he took the kettle off the fire and quickly poured some water into a small teapot. The soft light of the flames covered the pair as Rin sighed. She pulled her thin blanket over herself. The Arabian night air was frigid. Archer opened the lid and wafted the tea towards his nose. The fragrance of red tea filled the small cavern.

"We've still got a long way to go, so we should be getting some rest. Tea?"

Nodding, Rin took the cup and slowly sipped it. The hot tea was scalding but pleasant.
The two drank in silence as they were comforted by this moment of silence. After they finished, Archer doused the fire with the rest of the contents in the kettle as the fire gave a small hiss and disappeared. Murmuring a small "g'night," Rin yawned and pulled her blanket over her head. Soon, her gentle snoring could be heard.

Archer, however, wasn't really tired. Reclining against the other side of the cavern, he pulled out a small locket and stared at it. The ruby crystal was cold to the touch. He looked at the locket, then to the girl next to him, and gave a little sigh. Pulling off his coat, he gently pulled it over the sleeping mage.


Captain Assur of the Royal Army was half asleep. He hasn't had one bit of rest since yesterday, and the men in his unit were drained. Still, they continued, determined to do their duty. Standing at the walls looking for nonexistent enemies was a boring job, but someone had to do it.

Only a few hours ago, the worst of the blazes were put out by the magi of the city. Most of the fires are now out, with small portions burning here and there. The northern wall is now almost nonexistent as the once mighty barrier has been blown to bits at one location, and the rest melted like slag. Commerce and trade districts were by far heavily damaged, and temple district was entirely choked with refugees. Order was virtually nonexistent as children screamed and ran around the streets while distraught mothers looked for their babies. Husbands called out to wives as lovers searched for one another. Uruk was utter chaos.

Assur yawned. His soldiers echoed him. Right now, the chain of command was broken. He had no idea who to go to or what to do. He had his signet ring – three triangles stacked together in an equilateral fashion with the center triangle glowing gold, and that ring will grant him and his soldiers entrance anywhere to the city, except for the palace itself. Not that he needs to go there anyways – or did he? The palace has had no lights on since his king hurried to the library. No one has seen Gilgamesh since. While he was concerned for his ruler, Assur didn't really care to wonder at this point – he is too tired. All he knew was to stay put and make sure the people stay safe. There were still fires to put out, houses to rebuild, and lives to reforge. He heard a clunk as he turned around. One of his soldiers had fallen asleep at the watch. He grimaced, but decided to ignore the action. Now is not the time to be a disciplinarian. He leaned on his spear. A nap sounds good at the moment. He closed his eyes…

"CAPTAIN!!"

Assur opened his eyes groggily. A young man ran towards him, excitement on his face. One of his veterans snorted in disapproval.

"Slow down, kid. This isn't the time to be running or shouting."

"…So-sorry. But captain! I need to see the captain! Like, totally. It's like, important!"

"Can't you see the captain is resting? And you remember, recruit. When you speak to a superior officer, say "sir!"

"Um…like…alright." The recruit coughed as he took a couple of steps back and saluted.

"Sir, captain, sir! There is, sir, an old man, sir, with sir a sir ton sir of wrinkles sir! He, sir, calls himself, sir, some Up-something, sir!"

"…Drop the sir, please." Assur muttered. He was now wide awake.

"There's an old man, sir. He looks really really old, sir. He calls himself Up-something sir and had some warnings, sir."

"Utnapishtim? Describe him. Did you see him yourself?"

"Like, totally, sir! He had this huge long flowing white beard and he was dressed in these navy blue robes. He had a thin tiara on his head – circlet – whatever and there was this weird triangle pattern thing on it. He was like, really, really old, sir! He looks even older than you!"

"…Yes. That sounds like the old gentleman. Recruit, invite him in."

"I …ah…can't, sir. I think my lieutenant already told him to scram, sir."

"…he WHAT?"

"…Sir, is that bad, sir? The old man won't budge."

Assur placed his face into his palms.

"Yes, recruit. Now get your ass out there and invite that old man back. On second thought, stay here before you botch anything else. I'll go myself."

With that, he ran down the stairs towards the city gates. He hoped that he wasn't too late – Utnapishtim was not a pushover.


He was a hunter without arrows, a hound without teeth.

Lancer followed Gilgamesh as they dashed after Achilles. Their opponent was nimble as he leapt from sand dune to sand dune. Occasionally, a glimmer can be seen on his shield as the heroic spirits sprinted across the Babylonian desert.

"Och, Gilgaemesh! Ye realize I cannae help ye without me lance?"

"I'm well aware of that," snapped Gilgamesh as he leapt onto yet another mound of sand. "Right now, the objective is to catch that man in front of us."

"Do ye not think we coulda do it better if there were two o'us?" Lancer, who was slightly lagging behind shouted back. He was surprised at Gilgamesh's speed, among other things. Right now, his speed easily outstripped most riders, and even someone as agile as him was having trouble keeping up.

"Probably, but what are you going to do, fight without your prized Gae Bolg?"

The Greek hero in front of them has stopped in mid-stride. His shield flashing in the sunlight, he turned around and faced the heroic pair. Taking this moment to respond, Lancer smirked.

"Ay! CuChulainn cannae leave a comrade alone to nefarious tuilli like that one 'dere."

To his surprise, Gilgamesh turned around momentarily and – grinned – , what seems to be approval appearing on his face. Lancer rubbed his eyes. Must be the sand, he thought as he picked up his pace. First that Tohsaka lassy stickin' around and now this…

"The King of Heroes commends your stupidity. As a reward, you may select any weapon you so choose after we stop him and reach my city."

Gilgamesh walked forward, chain of heavens in his hands. The metallic chains clicked as he gestured towards his opponent.

"Alright, mongrel. Stop now and this can still go well for you."

"I don't think so, you pompous fool." Achilles replied. "I've done what I needed. The Grail no longer needs knowledge from the modern world. It has destroyed enough to know what will suffice. Your kingdom is next on our list."

"For what? So that you can have your wishes granted?" Sneered Gilgamesh as he pulled his sword, Enuma Elish along with its side. He knew that for some strange reason, he was unable to use the splitting star. However, it makes no real difference – it is still a mighty blade capable of smashing through most mundane and divine armor.

"Tell me, Achilles, How do you plan on destroying my city? For that matter, how do you plan on stopping me here?"

"Yah! Ye and what army?"

"As part of its logic, the Grail has already materialized enough miasma to destroy a portion of your walls. Along with a few of us, your city will fall, and you will be erased from reality."

"Ye be forgettin' us, laddie." Lancer huffed as he pulled himself in a fighting stance. He hoped to God that whatever barroom brawl techniques he knew from a long time ago was good enough.

Lesee here…rabbit punchs…groin kicks…plenty of sand to throw in eyes…

"Two heroic spirits. One weaponless, the other so arrogant as to not see his immediate downfall. Haha. I shall enjoy this…Oh, I shall enjoy this battle immensely."

Achilles' evil smile was chilling to see as he dropped his shield onto the ground. Immediately, a gigantic column of sand rose high into the air. Its force pushed Gilgamesh and Lancer back as magical energy howled all around them. A ghastly woman's voice can be heard in the middle of the desert sands.

"…What is this?!"

"Sing, goddess, the rage of Achilles the son of Peleus,
the destructive rage that sent countless pains on the Achaeans..."

"King of Heroes. I ask you, what are the classical triad of a land-based army?"

"Sing, goddess, the rage of Achilles the son of Peleus,
the destructive rage that sent countless pains on the Achaeans..."

The woman's voice now seemed to multiply around them as yet another voice appeared, then another, then another. Chrouslike they chanted the two lines, Achilles seemed to be in no hurry as the sand column became a full fledged tornado.

""Many a brave soul did he send hurrying down to Hades

and many a hero did yield prey to dogs and vultures.."

"Allow me to answer my question. Cavalry, Archery, and Infantry. Like in Heaven's feel, the Saber, Archer, and Rider were known as the three knights, so it is the case with warfare warfare."

For Thetis, the goddess of silver feet tells him that he carries two sorts of destiny...

"Oy! Can it, ye loud-mouthed hussy!" Lancer shouted angrily. The chanting was annoying him greatly. As for Gilgamesh, he did not like the way this was going, but the sandstorm was too strong for him to disrupt whatever Achilles was up to. He could only watch and curse silently as he realizes he has been drawn into a trap. The frenzied chorus grew stronger and stronger as Achilles waved his arms and a long sword materialized in his hands. Holding the short sword up high, he chanted.

"Either I waste away at home, and my life be long…"

"Will ye shut up?"

Achilles ignored Lancer and paused for a moment, contemplating his words.

"Sing, goddess, the rage of Achilles the son of Peleus,
the destructive rage that sent countless pains on the Achaeans..."

"If …I stay here and fight beside the city of the Trojans,
my return home is gone…"

A wistful expression appeared on his face, as if regretting something.

"Yet my fame shall be everlasting…"

"Och, fancy talk cannae fight - " Lancer's insult was cut short as Gilgamesh held his hand out and gestured at him to be quiet.

"Sing, goddess, the rage of Achilles the son of Peleus,
the destructive rage that sent countless pains on the Achaeans..."

"Idiot. This is no time to be making jokes. Can't you see what he is doing?"

"Nae, what be 'e up to?"

"Do you see those lines in the sand? Those are signs of activation of a bounded field. More accurately, in this case, he's activating a reality marble. If I think I know which one he is using…"

Gilgamesh's eyes flashed dangerously as uncertainty washed over them. Lines were indeed forming around Achilles. Twice he tried to dash at his opponent but both time the desert winds prevented him from doing so."

"I'm not sure if I'd want to take it on. I met a very similar one many years ago…"

"Come! We move onward … TO GLORY!"

The chorus stopped; the fields around Achilles darkened as suddenly, the three combatants were trust onto grassy plains. Desert sands and dusty air vanished, replaced by a battlefield bathed by the early light of the sun. The distant walls of a grand city can be seen as drums faintly echoed in the distant fields. Lancer gulped. Gilgamesh seemed to be undisturbed, though something flickered in his eyes and he gripped Enuma Elish tightly, his knuckles a slight hint of paleness.

"I fought in the Trojan war. These men here are known as my myrmidons, but perhaps you, King of Heroes know them as…"

Achilles gestured behind him as a drumbeat echoed in the background. Huge, iron-bound shields were lined up rank by rank as a hedge of spears appeared over, just behind him. Plumed-helmed soldiers marched on in unison as horns echoed in the background. Gilgamesh's eyes widened.

"Impossible. Rider has the only other …this…this was supposed to be …"

"The Aegean Thureophoroi – the finest of any heavy infantry regiment in all of history. King of Heroes, you ask "What army?"

The hoplites came closer into view as they formed ranks and locked their gigantic shields together. Achilles grinned in triumph.

"This army."

Behind him, the Aegean Thureophoroi stomped, roared and raised their spears in unison. A thousand pointed tips glinted in the light. Nodding in satisfaction, Achilles raised his sword again and held it still, as if savoring the moment. With a grand sweep, he brought it down and shouted.

"Advance!"


As a royal guard captain and having climbed the ranks slowly towards glory, Assur had faced it all – giants, barbarians, invaders, monsters, wild beasts. However, he wasn't quite sure how to handle the wizened old man in front of him.

"Rude, your soldiers were; important prophecies I bring to Uruk!"

Utnapishtim poked his walking staff at the captain. The short little old man was maybe four feet tall at the most. It seems that whenever his facial expression changed, the wrinkles changed along with them. He looked like a beggar in pile of moss green cloak-and-robes from afar, Assur thought, No wonder the greenhorns had no idea who he was…

His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp whack over the head.

"Always in motion is the future. Wasting time you are!" The old man exclaimed.

"Gilgamesh, I must see!"

Assur scratched his head as he sweated. How was he supposed to explain to this old man that his king wasn't there?

"Prophet, sir. The king's unavailable at the moment…Ah…he…"

"Like, yeah, totally dude. The king's like, totally disappeared." The recruit piped up, eager to help his superior officer with his dilemma.

At the moment, Assur wished him dead. Dead as a doorknob. The prophet wasn't surprised at all. He leaned on his staff and gave a little sigh as he sat down. By then, a crowd of people has already gathered around him. It is unusual for Utnapishtim to be making appearances in the city. He was a hermit, a loner; interested in his philosophy and pursuit of knowledge rather than Uruk's more mundane affairs.

"Truthful, this one is. His behavior Utnapishtim approves!" The old man beamed. Suddenly, as if remembering his original message, his expression darkened.

"People of Uruk, to me listen! Grave tidings I bring. Powerful forces of darkness marches on you as I speak. Dark fires in your city…coincidence it was not. Greater forces at work here!"

"Uh...old man, how did you know that?" The recruit asked. "Are you some like, cheap magician dude from the st - "

"Idiot," hissed Assur as he clamped his hand over the newbie's mouth. "That man is Utnapishtim, the oldest living human being and one of our realm's most powerful sorcerers. He may look old, but he's nearly immortal and can probably kick all of our asses here without a second thought. By Ea's bollocks do not tell me you've never heard of him!"

The recruit shook his head.

Gods. What are the scribes teaching these kids anyways?

"Whatever. Listen, recruit. Shut the flux up before one of us - me or him - lops off your head."

The recruit nodded in confirmation as he lapsed into silence. Sighing, Assur let the soldier go as he turned back to Utnapishtim, who was preaching to the rather large crowd that has gathered in front of the city gates.

"…Fight alone, Uruk cannot! Allies, you must seek. This day's arrival long have I foreseen. Buried upon Mountain Zagros, beacons I planted. Enchantments have I! Protected, it is. Signals, it will send."

The crowd cheered.

"However, problem has I! Due to long time of disuse, mechanism for its activation, broken it is. Heroes, I require. Climbing the mountain of Zagros and relight the fires of signal, difficult task is."

At this point, the younger men surged forward, each proclaiming his own deeds and valor and volunteering himself for the task. Assur shook his head and smirked. Pushing his way through the crowd, he presented himself. Surly the guard captain of Uruk should be the one taking this quest.

"Prophet," he began. "I am Assur, son of –"

"Who you are, I know!" Utnapishtim impatiently cut him off as he waved with his hand. "About your martial prowess or lineage, I care not! Only criteria are this: Play this strange instrument, can you?"

Taking a small bluish oval from his pocket, the prophet brandished it to the crowd. It was some sort of an enclosed space with twelve finger holes. A mouth tube projected from its circular body. It looked like a wind instrument of some sort.

Slowly, all the men started backing away. Most of them have never even seen a strange instrument like that, let along play it. With annoyance, Utnapishtim glared at the crowd.

"See! Why I need to see your king, this reason is! Knows how to play, he does! Need - "

"Uh, old dude? Can I see that ocarina please?"

Everyone turned to the voice of the recruit as Assur cursed silently for his insolence. Utnapishtim's eyes lit up.

"Hmm! The name of the instrument, knows you! Impressed is Utnapishtim! Here, young man. Try it, you will!"

Passing the ocarina to the young man, Utnapishtim waved at everyone to stand back. Eagerly grasping the blue oval, the recruit blew a few notes into it. At first, hesitantly but after a few seconds he soon gained confidence and played a small tune. Nodding in satisfaction, Utnapishtim beckoned to him.

"Young one! Come with me, you will! Stay in city, will the rest of you! Walls and defenses, prepare should you! Not much time have we!"

"Wait, old dude!" The recruit gestured wildly. "My name's Nilk. Can I ask you for a favor? Like, could we bring my captain along the way? Like, he's really cool and stuff. I think we should bring him. I think we might need him. Please? You'll like him. I really think we should bring him! I mean, come on. You aren't much of a warrior anyways. You look really really old, older than my gramps! And you know, I can't let you do the work since like, the scribes taught that young people like us are supposed to do all the heavy work and all. So, can we? Please?"

Pausing here for air, the recruit looked around. Everyone have returned to their daily works or hurried to the defense networks around the city. The only one left with he and the old man was his captain, who had a dangerously angry look on his face. Assur stomped over to his side, sword in hand.

"Thoughtful, you are. Bring your captain, we shall."

The old man replied, a twinkle in his eye. He smiled and turned to the pair. Hopping to Assur's face, he whispered something. The Mesopotamian warrior grunted in dissatisfaction and put away his sword. Huffing, he marched off towards the mountains as Utnapishtim and Nilk followed. Their bickering can be faintly heard in the background.

"Old dude, I still think you should just let us go solo. You look waaaay too old to be doing this…"

"Recruit, shut the hell up!"

"Hmph! When twelve hundred years old you reach, look as good you will not!"


Rin opened her eyes as the morning sun shone on her face. She had slept like a stone. Archer's cloak fell from her shoulders as she sat up. Her companion was nowhere in sight, though a pitcher of ice tea and some wafers were arranged in front of her. She popped a cake into her mouth and enjoyed the honeyed taste.

I wonder where's Archer, she thought. Or what he's up to. Though she knew that he was probably doing something practical as usual. She listened intently for his arrival. Rin didn't have to wait for long, as soon she saw a familiar shape emerge. Archer's sleeveless tunic was slightly dusty as he entered their camp.

"Morning," he curtly nodded. "I was out exploring the terrain. We're changing our plans – we're going to scale the mountain Zagros."

"A mountain…right. Archer, I don't doubt your abilities, but are you sure? We are in the middle of a desert, you know? How would both of us have missed it?"

Archer snorted as he picked up his coat. Kneeling down at the cavern's floor, he motioned Rin to come over.

"Here, feel this sand. Does this feel right to you?"

Rin did as he ordered. At first, everything was normal. As she held onto it, however, she gasped in surprise as the yellow sand suddenly blinked for a moment and turned into a handful of pebbles. The transformation immediately reverted back to the appearance. But to Rin, that was enough.

"…A clever disguise."

"Indeed," Archer replied as he packed their belongings. "It even fooled me for a while – but then I went outside for a walk last night, since I couldn't really sleep."

Rin glanced at him, looking slightly guilty as she realized what must have happened.

"Archer, you knew I would have been fine with what we had."

"Mhm. I didn't want to risk you catching a cold sleeping on the hard floor."

"Anyways," Archer continued. "I was out wandering around when I realized something didn't feel right. I saw cacti but I never seemed to be able to approach them. The little oasis that we are staying at seemed to have no origins and no endings. Curious, I started digging and hit solid rock. Then I realized…due to sheer, blind luck, we are actually much closer than we thought. Here."

Pointing at a mountain range right next to Uruk, Archer grinned. By now, the spell has been dispelled to the pair as looming, snowcapped peaks filled their field of vision. A small creek ran down the hillside.

"All we have to do is continue onward and descend the mountain from this side. I don't think you'll object to some climbing."

Rin nodded in affirmation. The two of them began their long climb to the top.


"Och, Gilgaemesh! 'E may have corny lines, but what the 'ell? Ye cannae be serious about - "

Lancer's comment was cut short as a snarling Gilgamesh bowled past him. The golden armored hero charged straight ahead at the first wall of spears. The hoplites dropped their shields and prepared to skewer the foolish challenger.

"Imbecile. Do you even know how to fight? You must be one of those cowardly kings who hide behind their people's backs and do all the work."

Achilles taunted his opponent from afar as more of the Aegean Thureophoroi marched forward in a half-moon formation.

"King of Heroes, let me give you some military tips. It's suicide for you to charge my spearmen. See those long pointed barbs? Those are called - "

"I know what pikes are, mongrel." Came Gilgamesh's cold retort. He was about a hundred meters away from the nearest pike formation. Brandishing the chains of heaven, he wrapped it tightly around his left arm and dragged the length of the chain along the ground.

"Quite. Then, O King of Heroes, you know my infantry is designed to mow down ranks and ranks of regular footmen with short weapons, right?"

Laughing, Achilles directed his men forward. To the Greek hero, it was almost like a game. How his blood boiled to see action again.

"Third rank, on standby!"

Gilgamesh ran at his opponents, his movement a blur. Three seconds before closing upon the opponent…he was going to need to time this just right.

"Second rank, on standby!"

He can see the horsehair plumes; he see the hairs on each individual strand. He can see the intricate artwork on the Thureophoroi's shields. He can see the pointed barbs, each one waving his own death at him.

"First rank, set pikes!"

Gilgamesh smirked. He got his opponents right where he wanted them…

A loud metallic clang, followed by a series of clattering and clanking. Achilles' eyes widened in surprise.

"…What?!"

The first pike formation was completely broken as more than half of his soldiers lie prone on the ground, their spears scattered all around them. The other half was scattered about desperately trying to reform ranks. In the middle of them was a golden blur as Gilgamesh lashed out, felling all around them. Achilles was completely dumbfounded. How in the world could one man take on a whole regiment? When the rules of warfare were so clearly on his side?

Only Gilgamesh knew what happened. The minute before he slammed into the pikes, he swung Ea with all of his strength. Using his own momentum, he managed to bat aside the first wall of spears, causing them to fly out from their owner's hands. He then thrusted out the chain of heavens and made a wide sweep under the infantrymen's feet, literally tripping all the members in the second rank. As the Thureophoroi in the second rank fell, burdened by all their armor, the entire formation was thrown in disarray. Because the heavy infantry had their pikes out, they were unable to retaliate. Leaving Gilgamesh free to wreak as much havoc as he possibly can.

Meanwhile, the other regiments have completely closed on Lancer and even now have surrounded the poor Irishman in a ring of pikes.

"Och. Lads…Shall 'e reason this out?"

His only response was a chorus of growls as the Thureophoroi hoisted their weapons.

"Aye, lads. Ye asked for it!"

Without a warning, Lancer lunged at the nearest Thureophoroi, knocking him off guard. He nimbly sprung onto the man's shoulders and twisted his opponent's arms expertly. The Greek yelped in pain as his hands loosed, giving up his spear. Lancer snatched the weapon. It was a bit light, but the balance was decent. He leapt high into the air just as a wall of spears impaled the location he was momentarily ago just standing. Now, with a weapon in hand, Lancer grinned. This was what he liked best – charging alone against impossible odds. Quickly flipping several times in mid air and landing behind the Thureophoroi legion, he roared and charged.


"How much more further, prophet?"

Assur huffed. He wasn't sure if he was the only one getting tired of the climb, but the old man and the younger man seemed to be full of energy. In fact, judging from the way the two were constantly bickering, he was surprised to see the old man in such a jovial state.

"Walk, you will. Not much further from here, beacon is."

"Hey, uh…dudes? I think we've got some problems."

"Shut up, recruit. Prophet, exactly what will we do when we get up to the mountain?"

"Hmm. Play the ocarina, Nilk will. Stretched out, the arcane field will be. Magic glyphs, light they will. Him, we guard. Simple is our task."

"Dudes? I think we're being follow - "

"Shut up, recruit."

The three heroes continued their talk as they climbed the mountains. Little did they know that they were indeed being followed. A short way behind them, Archer and Rin were hiding behind some rocks, observing them.

"Shall we continue following them?"

"Yes, Archer. I sense something strange about that boy though. First of all, the ocarina is a Mesoamerican or ancient Chinese instrument. I wonder how in the world a homegrown Babylonian would have known of the instrument, let alone play it. The old man is tremendously powerful. But the boy is…well, he's not quite letting on something. I think he's hiding something."

Archer nodded, agreeing with her analysis. The wind blew gently in Rin's hair. He tensed as his ears twitched.

"Rin, did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

Archer paused thoughtfully as he concentrated for a moment.

"Footsteps."

"My mundane hearing isn't quite as good as yours, Archer." Swallowing her next remark, Rin followed Archer and moved into a more secluded spot so they could observe the mountain route better. Archer had insisted that they wait and see things first before acting, since they would not be able to know whether or not the people they meet are hostile. Now, it seemed that his advice was sound. A small army was on their way to the top of the mountain. Soon, a column of plumed infantry mingled with shadowy giants marched up the path.

"Those are hoplites," whispered Rin. "And those other things … what are they?"

"Miasma." Archer whispered back. "Think the personification of the impurities from human wishes. That's how I see them. This is bad news for the three that just climbed up."

"Should we go help them, then?"

"No, Rin. You stay here. Let me go check things out."

"Hmph! Archer! You know perfectly well I can handle things on my own. You're just like Shiro sometimes!"

Rin whispered angrily as Archer looked at her, ironic mirth in his eyes. Pausing thoughtfully for a long moment, he replied.

"Rin. In a situation like this, how good are you at hand to hand combat?"

"Good enough to hold my own, and better than that kid, Shiro?"

"Heh. Have you ever fought against an army before?"

"…No?"

"Exactly," Archer snapped, a bit harsher than he meant. "Whatever you've learned, it's for taking on maybe three or four opponents at the same time. That sort of fighting is more or less useless here. So, first reason: I wouldn't want you to get in my way. However," he added as an afterthought. "My second reason: keeping you around here would mean you can blast their sorry behinds if I seem to get in trouble – which I won't be. That clear?"

Still disgruntled, Rin nonetheless had to admit that Archer's plan was sound. Muttering, she waved dismissal as the red-clad hero dashed off.


"HEY, LISTEN! HEY, LISTEN! HEY, LISTEN! HEY, LISTEN! HEY, LISTEN! HEY, LISTEN! HEY, LISTEN! HEY, LISTEN! HEY, LISTEN! HEY, LISTEN! HEY, LISTEN! HEY, LISTEN! HEY, LISTEN! HEY, LISTEN! HEY, LISTEN! HEY, LISTEN - "

"Recruit, will you shut the hell up before I stab you?"

"HEY, LISTEN, HEY - Sorry, captain, sir! But I swear I can hear something behind us, sir!"

"What are you talking about? It's just the wind!"

"Hold, Assur. The youngling, right is he. Footsteps I hear. Shaking, the earth is."

Assur looked at Utnapishtim incredulously.

You actually believe this crackhead, prophet?"

The prophet ignored him as he mentioned for the two to stop. They have arrived on the top of the mountain, in a flat arena-like location. A completely horizontal area has been carved into the mountain with cuneiform written all over it. The glyphs glowed slightly as Utnapishtim touched it. Handing the ocarina to Nilk, he nodded.

"Play tune, you will."

"Anything I want?"

Utnapishtim nodded.

"Feel the music, you will."

The boy took over the instrument and began to play. A light, airy echo emerged from the ocarina as the stones themselves seemed to be infused by its music. A blue aura radiated from the ocarina as one by one, the glyphs came to life. The whistling sound was strangely enchanting as even Assur, who never liked music was inclined to nod along. The tune was so lively! Enjoying the music, he was rather disappointed when it was suddenly interrupted by a hiss and a sharp "whonk."

Utnapishtim had his walking stick in his hand. The old man was in a fighting stance as a group of strangely armored iron men surrounded him with large spears. Terrifying giants of pure darkness surrounded them. The hiss was from one of them, of whom Utnapishtim apparently has just struck.

"You short old man! Prepare to die!"

"Hold it! Before you even lay a finger on the prophet, you have to go through me first!"

Assur drew his short sword and rushed to the old man's side. This was where he was needed. This was why he came. They must know what we are up to, he thought as he readied himself. He tackled one of the iron men and immediately knocked his opponent over. Slashing out with his sword, he whirled. Suddenly, pain shot through him. An arc of lightning streaked across his body. Yelling in pain, the captain fell. A particularly ironed man stepped over his body, his head covered in silvery metal.

"Hah, so this is your bodyguard, old man? How pathetic."

"Patroclus. Just kill them and destroy the beacon. Then we can focus on destroying the city."

Paralyzed, Assur can only watch as more and more soldiers surrounded Utnapishtim.

"Fine by me," Patroclus replied as he waved and the rest of the soldiers formed into a wedge.

"Keep playing, Nilk. Depend on you, the fate of our world."

Nodding, the recruit began to play again. The music of the ocarina once again flew from his lips. Their opponents were not impressed.

"Run that short old relic through, and then kill the boy."

Utnapishtim gripped his walking stick tightly. He glared at the soldiers.

"Size matters not. Look at me. Judge me by size, do you?"

Unconsciously, even the Thureophoroi took a step back. What was going on? They thought they were going against a weak old man!

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!"

Utnapishtim flew at his nearest opponent, his stick in hand. Bashing the man's knees with his stout stick, he immediately rolled to the left and tripped over another hoplite. As a third stabbed him with his spear, the old man merely blocked his thrust and easily reversed the direction. Like a desert whirlwind, the small green robe lashed out at his opponents. Slamming his staff into a shadow giant's head, he smoothly stepped back as it fell on top of two more soldiers. He jabbed a hoplite in the eye and kicked another between his legs. All this in one smooth motion as he landed neatly next to his half-dozen fallen opponents. Behind him, the glyphs in the beacon lit up; only six more of them remained.

Patroclus gulped and inched back behind the shield wall. He wasn't particularly intimidated – after all, his forces outnumbered this old man. There were a couple of hundred of them and one Utnapishtim. There was no way that old pile of bones could walk out of this one alive. The unfortunate thing was that only a few of them can attack at the same time.

Whatever, he thought. These men are expendable anyways. A pity I used the lightning surge on the wrong man.

Drawing his sword, Patroclus mentioned for his men to advance. Slowly but surely, the old man was pushed back. His fighting style required him to move constantly with his staff. However, Utnapishtim also had to block the pathway to where Nilk was playing, severely hampering his ability. The young man seemed to understand this as well – his fingers worked faster as he played the instrument like one possessed by a demon. The glyphs have now almost lit up completely – just two more in the center circle remained.

Patroclus growled in frustration. It was then an idea dawned on him. He shoved Utnapishtim back as he suddenly threw his sword at the young man. He watched in satisfaction as the old man turned around and charged towards the projectile, knocking it out of his way. Snatching a sword from another soldier, Patroclus lunged at Utnapishtim.

"You die now, old man!"

"Not if anything to say about it, have I!"

The old prophet shouted as he spun around with impossible velocity. Patroclus' strike missed him by a hair. However, the attack did manage to knock him off his balance as the arch sage tumbled to the ground. Immediately, four spear thrusts followed. The old man managed to roll out of the way and dodge all of them, but things were looking grim. Another spear skewered his robes and pinned him down to one location. Patroclus smugly smirked. He liked easy opponents. He told his troops to back off as he walked over to taunt the old man.

"Hah, what do you have to say about it now?"

"Much anger I sense in you," Utnapishtim replied evenly. "Victorious you may be, yet powerful you are not."

"What, you stunty old bastard. Who's the one pinned down?"

"Happens to everyone, sometimes this does." Utnapishtim smirked back. The look on the old man's face was annoying Patroclus. He decided to off the old guy first before taking out the kid playing that annoying ocarina. Lifting his sword, he swung. Utnapishtim blocked it. He raised his sword again and swung again. It was met with the same result. However, he knew that the old man will soon tire. The prospect of adding another kill excited him. Surely it would be glorious for him to defeat the man who survived the Flood in single combat!

"Gand!"

A deafening bang echoed across the peak as Patroclus' sword was knocked out from his hands. A red blur landed next to him and immediately leapt away. With one strike, Utnapishtim was cut free as the old man rolled back to his feet.

"Is this what you do, hero? Pathetic."

The strange newcomer was clad in red and held a pair of black and white falchions. The girl behind him was dressed in outlandish clothing, but her finger crackled with energy. To Patroclus, it didn't matter. They were yet another minor annoyance to be dealt with.

"Striking an opponent from behind is dishonorable."

Immediately, the man in red threw one of his swords at him. Patroclus barely brought up his own weapon in time as Archer's Kansho met his own steel. The impact hurt his hands.

"You hypocrite. How dare you speak of honor when you are the one attacking someone with unfair odds."

Archer spoke evenly as the sword boomeranged back to him. His disdain clearly shown on his face as he turned around to Rin.

"Permission to utterly kick his ass?"

"Permission granted." Rin replied, smiling.

Archer's twin falchions flashed in the sunlight as he leapt at Patroclus. The Greek hero brought up his sword to block the first overhead slash, only to be cut by a backhand stroke from Archer's white sword. Bakuya scored a huge gash on Patroclus' arm as Archer rotated his blade slightly, locking his opponent's weapon in place. The ocarina's music fluttered in and out gently.

"Wha-what are you morons doing? Save your commander!!"

The Thureophoroi immediately swarmed around Archer as he kicked Patroclus down to the ground. Spinning around with Kansho, Archer slashed at his opponents gracefully. A Thureophoroi went down almost immediately, hamstrung from a well-placed blow. Weaving and dodging among the spear thrusts, Archer landed a savage cut on the coward below him before he cleaved a shield in half and sidestepped out of the way. In a situation where his speed is unusable, Archer opted for raw attack strength – his twin blades flashed and followed as steel met steel.

"The rest of you men, get the boy!"

As if on cue, someone commanded. By now, more and more of the heavy infantry and miasma have arrived on the platform. While the miasma seemed to be content watching their human allies move, the hoplites gave no qualms as they stepped into the fray eagerly. Rin tensed and unleashed another Gand strike. She wasn't sure if she was able to hold off so many at the same time, but she had to try. The little old man beside her was evidently thinking the same thing as he was like a coiled spring, ready to strike.

However, the ground beneath them started to shake as the last glyph lit up. Blue light filled the entire mountain-top as a spherical globe of light rose to the surface. Nilk stopped playing as he himself disappeared into the radiance, a smile still on his face. Beaming, Utnapishtim smiled.

"Lit, the beacon is! With it, hope arrives!"

Patroclus gritted his teeth and screamed in frustration. They had failed their task. Achilles will not be pleased. Crawling back to his feet, he screamed hoarsely.

"Kill them, kill them all!"

More and more of the heavy infantry rushed onto the platform. Some fell, pierced by Archer's swords or by Rin's magic. But Archer cannot dodge forever, and with more opponents arriving, he is forced to move back in the same fashion as Utnapishtim. Forced to give to compensate for his lack of reach, he watched helplessly as he is shoved back.

This is what they mean by numerical superiority, isn't it?

More and more arrived until finally, they surrounded the small group of defenders. Patroclus knew this time that victory was at hand. Handing his sword to one of his soldiers, he muttered.

"Go kill the old man first. Then carve up the red man. Save the girl for me. I'm going to have some fun after I bind my wounds."

"Typical." Rin muttered as she stood with Archer back to back. She was contemplating casting a smokescreen or something along those lines to give them all a chance to escape.

"Why must I always be pursued by perverts or bumbling idiots who lacked personal hygiene?"

"Almost up, my time is. Distraction, I will be." Utnapishtim whispered. "Great strength sense I in you two. Great bond as well. Mm!"

"No, sage. You take her and leave. I'll buy us time." Archer clasped her hand tightly, as if saying goodbye. A split second later, with some small regret, he let go of her and plunged Kansho and Bakuya into the stone. To his surprise, he felt a warm touch in his other hand. Looking down, he saw Rin's blue eyes staring at him as she grabbed his other hand.

"Archer. No way. I'm staying with you this time."

"So you won't be in my way this time?"

"Hmph! As if!"

The pair smiled knowingly at each other and placed their lives in the other's hands. Be it Unlimited Blade Works, or Gem sorcery, they were going to get out of this. It seemed an eternity, but it was really a mere few seconds as Patroclus ordered his solder to attack.

"Kill the old man."

The Thureophoroi nodded and took a step forward before he suddenly collapsed, a clean hole through his chest as a violet beam of light pierced his armor.

"What? Who gave you permission to die?!"

Patroclus howled in rage. He took the sword and ran at Utnapishtim, intent on cleaving the old man in two.

He took two steps before another ray of light ran him clean through.

"Throwing your soldier's lives blindly…Have you no regard for the sanctity of life?"

The newest speaker walked out from the blue portal. His ebony skin a sharp contrast to the metallic, lifeless silver armor of the Thureophoroi. He was powerfully built and his tightly-fitting kilt seemed to glitter in the sunlight. A closer inspection revealed that they were made out of the finest white cotton and finely beaten golden strands. Decorations and emblems marked his belt. Every inch the Egyptian from his shaven head to his sandals, the newcomer's headdress was stately, a double crown of azure and white. His normally even expressions narrowed in disgust as he looked at the group in front of the defenders.

"Ah! Ramses! Arrived in time, you have! A Welcoming sight you are!"

"I thought my mentor might require some small assistance." Ramses replied as he waved, his weapon returning to his hand. The scepter of the pharaoh glowed brightly in the sun as it extended in length. Now the length of a quarterstaff, Ramses gripped the center region tightly as the ends of the metal rod emitted a purple glow and hummed with energy.

"I have also brought the council of elders along with me. They should be arriving in the city shortly. In the meantime…please allow me to take care of the trash."

With lightning speed, Ramses charged the troops surrounding his mentor and allies. Already disoriented from the loss of their leader, the Thureophoroi were quickly decimated by his attacks. Ramses' weapon was strange – his staff appeared to be able to wound on both ends as he only gripped the center but swung it in large loops. The twin violet blades hummed with energy as he cut through his opponents' shield, flesh, and dark matter with ease.

"Did you see that dude? He was so totally awesome, just like my captain! BAM!" Nilk piped up from the portal as he helped his captain standing up. Together, the group began their counterattack.


London, England. The midnight hour of modern day. A lone light flickered on the top floor of a grand mansion as Big Ben struck, its metallic voice echoed through the night air.

It was more study than a place for sleeping anyways, as a well-stocked wine cabinet stood side by side with three bookshelves filled with the classics of the world. The bedroom was dimly lit with only two deskside lamps, but for the lecturer reading a battered copy of his favorite book, it was enough. Its yellowed and dogeared pages were full of highlights and scribbles as the talented professor of the Clock Tower took out a stubbed pencil and underlined again a portion of its pages. Marking up a text was his method of thinking along with it.

"In your eagerness to engage the Trojans, don't any of you charge ahead of others, trusting in your strength and horsemanship. And don't lag behind. That will hurt our charge…"

Lord El-Melloi II turned the page of Homer's Iliad as he paused. Savoring in every syllable of those ancient words and listening to the ringing of the clock tower in the background, he continued.

"Any man whose chariot confronts an enemy's should thrust with his spear at him from there. That's the most effective tactic, the way men wiped out city strongholds long ago—

their chests full of that style and spirit."

He could see it in his mind. Charioteers running down ranks and ranks of enemies as the royal riders trampling over all resistance as they galloped towards their goal. To be a charioteer was to be reckless; hot-blooded; and also entirely active, confidant of their own future. El-Melloi nodded in affirmation as he mouthed the words, tasting each and every one. It felt so real, like he had experienced it. Indeed, he had. Once, not so long ago in the distant past, didn't he himself ride in one?

"Ten years…" El-Melloi whispered to himself. "Has it already been ten years?"

Carefully putting down the Iliad, he yawned. It was midnight, and he had a lecture to prepare to more hormone-raging students. He turned off one of the lights and returned the book to its rightful place among his collections of classics, next to the Autobiography of Alexander the Great.

He extinguished the other light as he crawled under his blankets, thankful for their softness. The darkness was like a barrier that shielded him from his past memories. Sleep. The oblivion that he often sought. Lord El-Melloi was a man who was frequently admired, yet he didn't care much for it. Funny thing too, as merely years ago he would have given everything in the world for recognition. Too many things and past events haunted him. Too many things that can only be forgotten via sleep.

How he wanted to be a hero. How he wanted to be admired. And admired he is now…the most popular lecturer in all of England. Students flocked to him. Women swooned over him. He was rich, powerful, handsome…everything a man could be. Yet the admiration he sought was different. That wish belonged to the past. Though he dares not admit to it, sometimes he wished he could have been born in the past.

We are such things as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.

As he hazily drifted away to that land of dreams, he heard a dull thud coming somewhere with his basement. Dismissing it as white noise, El-Melloi turned around, covering his head with a pillow.

Thud, thud, thud CRASH. He heard the sound of ceramics shattering.

Lord El-Melloi II, Master Lecturer of the Clock Tower bolted upright. Hurriedly throwing a robe over himself, he snapped his fingers. Immediately, blue globes of flame sprang into existence as all traces of sleep vanished from him. Alert and focused, he concentrated his arcane senses as invisible tendrils of prana shot out, directing him to his intruder.

Sure enough, someone was in his mansion. Someone powerful enough to bypass his wards, yet someone too clumsy to not bump into things. El-Melloi ran down to his trophy room and saw pieces of the priceless Ming vase lay on the ground, their shards a silent testimony to the previous events. Cursing himself for not getting a metal frame to put around them, but silently congratulating himself for having the foresight to buy such trinckets, El-Melloi checked his study. As his arcane vision glanced over his various shelves and cabinets, he blinked. Something wasn't quite right. He doubled checked again, just to make sure.

All the exquisite gold jewelry was exactly where they were at. No magical artifacts were misplaced. All his spellbooks are in place. Not a single gem was missing. His stamp collection was entirely intact. Perplexed, Lord El-Melloi triple checked his findings. The exact same results occurred. Nothing, not even a toothpick holder was missing from their original location. Yet clearly, someone was here. He clearly heard a sound, and he was positive he did not buy a broken vase.

He let his mundane vision take over. It was then he realized what was missing. Hidden away behind a bunch of catalysts samples, he had constructed a shelf to hold his memoirs of the fourth Heaven's Feel. Because the magical materials were not worth much, he had not cast a ward of protection over them. A gaping hole appeared at where the shelf was supposed to be as spilled chemicals seeped into the carpet. El-Melloi sighed. He was going to get someone to clean up the mess later.

Retreating back to his bed chamber, he placed his hand over his chin and pondered. Whoever the thief is, he was probably long gone. If he was powerful enough to get in without alerting his magical defenses, then he was surely powerful enough to get out. The curious thing was not who, or what, but what he didn't take. Instead of the countless items of power…this thief stole something that was of no use or worth to anyone. Sighing, El-Melloi rubbed his temples.

Now…what would someone want with an out-dated video game system that went out of style ten years ago…?

It was then he realized the true intent of the thief. Whoever it was, it was just a distraction. The thief hasn't left yet – he is still in the house somewhere. Tense, Lord El-Melloi stood up, his long robes swishing behind him. He began his spellcasting as he carefully scanned his mansion for any and all signs of activity, magical and normal. The power flowed out of him as he sang the verses in an ancient tongue.

"Excito, Mes Lumens!"

His magical sight stretched out across the mansion. To his satisfaction, he detected a signal. It was fairly fresh – someone was just there five minutes ago. Whispering a word of command, the winds whisked him away to his intended location…

Once again, Lord El-Melloi II gaped in surprise. Expecting the intruder to be back in the trophy room or in his archives, he instead found himself in his kitchen. His fridge stood with one door still swinging, its forlorn look more than enough to tell him what has happened. Hanging his head, El-Melloi vowed to make the intruder pay. His caviar has better not be missing!

"Inventory report," he snapped as a magical construct scurried over to obey its master's command.

"Affirmative. One microwave. Fourteen packages of "Master Kong" ramen noodles, eight cans of Campbell "Chunky" New England clam chowder, a crate of "El Cid" instant microwavable tacos, three boxes of Keebler crackers, a pack of thirty-six Red Bull, seven boxes of Momma Mia's Lasagna, five large meat-lover's pizzas, two dozen "Mountain Dew," thirty-three U.S Army Meals Ready to Eats, nineteen - " the mechanical maid's report was interrupted by El-Melloi as he impatiently snapped.

"The valuables, Claire, the important objects?"

"None, my lord," the construct cheerfully replied.

"The only items missing were items considered to be unhealthy, "junk food" by the Food Standards Agency."

Without warning, another construct appeared.

"My Lord? An unknown intruder recently broke into your wardrobe. It ah…"

The construct looked down, as if she was embarrassed.

"Just say it."

"…It stole your pants."

"…You. Have. To. Be. Joking."

"Negative, Lord El-Melloi. Also, several of your "T-shirts" are missing."

El-Melloi slapped his forehead. He was sure that someone was messing with him at this point, but he hadn't the patience to deal with it. He had no idea who would want his jeans, but the only T-shirts he had were those he bought in remembrance of the fourth Grail War. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the constructs, who returned to their silent work around the mansion.

Junk food…T-shirts from the fourth Heaven's Feel…an ancient game system…a freaking microwave?! What the hell?

Stalking back up the stairs, he was planning to get a good night's rest and investigate it in the morning when he realized that one of his wards has been tripped yet again.

This time, it was in the living room. The signals show that the intruder was still present. El-Melloi's blood boiled as he dashed towards it, spells of destruction on his lips. As he reached the twin elm doors, his magical senses reaffirmed him of his detections. Yet, he paused for a moment and placed his ears on the door. For a moment, he was once again the young man of ten years ago as uncertainty struck him. How should he be approaching this, anyhow? Should he burst in and immediately cast –

Without warning, the doors flew open in his face. Or rather, the top part of the door, along with the hinges flew right at him. The force knocked him to the ground as he saw a huge shape inside his living room. The flickering of his plasma TV can be seen in the background.

"Lousy, cheaply made things…why didn't the kid get something stouter was beyond me…"

A leonine head poked through the opening. The glint on his copper-hued armor can be seen though the faint light of the TV still in the background. His red hair and beard stood on their ends, as if they were blazing. The giant's eyes shone with an inner fire as his huge head surveyed his surroundings slowly, looking for his eavesdropper. His expression lit up as he found El-Melloi, whose head was still smarting under the blow and his face broke into a huge grin.

"HEY! Kid! Waver! Come here! Help me set this thing up!"

"….Alex…Alexander?"

Lord El-Melloi II was speechless as he slowly picked himself up from the ground. Seeing his behavior, Alexander laughed and gestured at him with a burrito.

"Yeah, kid. What, not happy to see me? Here, tell me which wire goes where. I never had a chance to try this thing I bought out. After this, I'll explain myself. Promise."


How many more were there?!

Gilgamesh didn't know. All he knew was that he had to keep on going. He hoped that Achilles was running out of energy. He was now charging together with Lancer as the two of them charged through ranks and ranks of infantry, mowing his opponents down with great force. Despite his ego, Gilgamesh had to admit that the spearman wasn't half bad – his feats of acrobatics combined with the mastery of the lance made him an excellent combatant. While Gilgamesh batted aside the hedge of spears, most of the time Lancer just charged into them. Against any lesser armies, they would have be broken hours ago.

Yet the Thureophoroi were relentless. No matter how many legions he and Lancer batter down, it was simply no use.

"Yes…destroy my men…I have more, many, many more…"

Achilles laughed. His laugh was cut short as an animalistic roar echoed in the background. The sound rippled in the air; the sky shattered; the earth faded away. Suddenly, they were back in the middle of the desert. The soldiers were still there, but they seemed confused, disorganized. The fields conjured by Achilles' reality marble has somehow been broken.

"Friend, do you hear me?"

A deep, booming voice echoed across the valley. Gilgamesh's heart lit up. He had never thought he would hear that voice again.

"ENKIDU!" He shouted as he charged another group of Thureophoroi.

Achilles frowned. He was not going to spend more men here. He had lost the advance of isolating his opponents, and he was definitely not staying with the possibility of another hero joining them. His original plan of eliminating his opponents has failed. For that, he needs to plan again. He waved to his army as the infantry formed ranks and retreated. Soon, apart from the broken weapons, no sign of the battle remained.

Neither Gilgamesh nor Lancer decided to pursue. Lancer plopped down onto the ground, exhausted after his battle-rage. Gilgamesh showed no signs of weariness. He was too excited. Shouting, he looked around wildly for the voice he heard.

"Enkidu!" He shouted. There was no response.

"Enkidu?"

All that answered him was the voice of the desert wind, calling to him.

"Enkidu!"

Puzzled, Gilgamesh yelled again.

"Enkidu!"

There was no response. Disappointed, he sat down on a rock next to Lancer.

Was he merely dreaming? No. Achilles' reality marble was broken. There is only one man who could do that – Enkidu, the Lord of Beasts, his closest friend.

And yet…If that is him, where is he? Why doesn't he show himself?

Gilgamesh mulled over this dilemma as the sandstorm began to subside, turning the sky a complex sandy yellow hue.