By the time Izumi arrived at the battlefield, the scene that greeted him was absurdly on-brand:
A tall golden king and a small golden brat were already trading blows—
and insults—
with reckless abandon.
"Seriously, every time I see you, I feel an overwhelming urge to kill you," Young Gilgamesh sneered.
"To think I'd grow up into such a third-rate chuunibyou."
"Did you forget to bring your brain back from the Throne?"
"I was so wise, so perfect—yet look at this ridiculous outcome. Disgraceful."
He punctuated each line with volleys from the Gate of Babylon—
artillery fire backed by top-shelf snark.
Adult Gilgamesh's face twisted darkly.
"Silence, mongrel."
"I don't know what bizarre method dragged you out of the Throne—"
"But a world only needs one King."
Young Gil didn't even flinch.
If anything, he looked delighted.
"Hahaha! Did you just insult yourself?"
"I am you, genius. You are me."
"You call me trash? Congratulations, you're calling yourself trash."
"What, did you seriously forget how identity works?"
"When Enkidu hears about this, he'll kill you himself."
Izumi watched, impressed despite himself.
Young Gil, who possessed Sha Naqba Imuru, the star of omniscience and omnipotence, effortlessly matched his adult counterpart.
Treasures clashed, magic circuits screamed, and explosions decorated the night sky.
Adult Gil, enraged beyond reason, abandoned tactics entirely.
He just hurled everything he owned.
All of it.
Without reading descriptions.
Like a gacha whale on tilt.
"Shut—mong—" he sputtered, shaking, veins popping—
then screamed:
"BE SILENT!!"
And with that roar, he reached for the crown jewel.
EA.
The Sword of Rupture.
Izumi's eyes gleamed.
Jackpot.
Before Gil could even activate it, Izumi vanished—
reappearing at his side in a blur.
A blade flashed.
Blood sprayed.
With a clean "shick," Gilgamesh's right arm—and the sword it held—were severed.
Izumi casually caught EA, tossed it into his system storage without a second glance, and landed lightly.
Adult Gil stared blankly at the void where his arm used to be.
Then he recognized the intruder.
His face contorted into hatred incarnate.
"You—MONGREL!!!!!"
Izumi waved cheerfully.
"Yo."
"Looks like you've fully manifested this time. Neat."
"Thanks for the weapon, by the way."
He teleported back beside Young Gil.
Young Gil lowered his weapons, grimacing.
"Oi, onii-san."
"You could at least pretend to have manners."
"When you chopped him, I swear I felt phantom pain in my own arm."
He shuddered.
Watching someone carve up the future version of yourself was deeply unsettling.
Izumi ruffled his hair ruthlessly.
"Don't worry. I wasn't chopping you."
"And I thought you didn't like him?"
He glanced toward the older king.
Adult Gil's face twisted with murderous rage.
"You again… heh… fufufufuHAHAHAHA!"
He covered his face with his remaining hand, shoulders shaking.
Eyes glowed with pure lunacy.
He remembered.
This was the bastard who had humiliated him—
and forcibly sent him back to the Throne.
"Enkidu is dead, Uruk is dust, yet humiliation is eternal."
His laughter ended abruptly.
"ENKIDU—!"
Chains erupted from golden ripples behind him, streaking toward them like hunting beasts.
Young Gil raised his arm—
but Izumi stopped him with a gesture.
"Relax. I'll handle this one."
"You can sit back and enjoy the show."
The Chains of Heaven wrapped around Izumi's arm—
only for him to flex.
Crack.
The divine weapon shattered like fragile glass.
Izumi smirked.
"I'm not a god, you know. That Noble Phantasm only works on divinity."
"So, to me, it's just cheap rope."
"And honestly, Young Gil was right—
You really did forget your brain somewhere."
For the record, the only Gilgameshes Izumi liked were child Gil, wise Gil, and underworld Gil.
The chuunibyou king?
He had already stabbed him once.
He didn't mind doing it again.
Adult Gil roared, and opened the Gate completely.
"MONGREL!! You will pay for your insolence!"
Hundreds of Noble Phantasms launched simultaneously—
artillery fire that could erase armies.
Izumi simply lifted his hand.
The weapons stopped midair—
frozen in place like broken pixels.
"Thanks for the donation."
Then he stored all of them away, without ceremony.
That was why he came, after all.
Originally, he had been planning to rob Young Gil—
but the kid had helped Illya and the others earlier.
So Izumi changed targets.
Adult Gil was rich, hateful, and therefore the perfect victim.
The barrage he launched just now?
B+ and A-rank artifacts.
Pure profit.
Gilgamesh trembled, eyes bulging with rage.
"Y-you—thief!"
He might be arrogant, but not entirely brain-dead.
This time, he didn't open fire blindly.
Instead, he conjured something new from his treasury—
with his left hand.
A scarlet spear.
"Gungnir."
The Spear of Destiny.
The weapon of Odin, King of the Æsir.
Prototype of the weapon wielded by Cú Chulainn.
He threw it—
and it shot forward like a meteor, unstoppable.
Izumi sighed.
"That's it?"
He reached out—
and caught the divine spear with one hand.
Stopped cold.
No damage.
No strain.
Gungnir possessed the power to declare death—
but the limit of its rank could not breach Izumi's reality.
Gil's eyes widened with disbelief.
How?
How could anyone be this strong?
Why did this monster exist in this world?
Before he could answer that question—
Izumi appeared before him.
A lance materialized in Izumi's grip—
and pierced straight through Gilgamesh's chest.
Right through the spiritual core of his Saint Graph.
Golden king coughed blood violently.
"A—ah…!"
His eyes shook wide, horrified.
This was exactly the scene from before.
The moment he was first erased.
History—
repeating itself.
He wanted to scream, to curse, to rage—
Why did such a nightmare of a man exist?
If only he had descended in his true, prime form—
He would have slaughtered this mongrel.
But that possibility—
was already gone.
Darkness crawled across his vision—