The Ultimate Lich King of the Multiverse

Among the observing Servants, all showed surprise—but Yoru remained calm.

Flandre's performance was nothing exaggerated. In fact, it made sense, because she wasn't a Caster at all, but rather a Berserker—possibly the strongest in direct combat among all Heroic Spirits.

Archer's attacks might have appeared flashy and overwhelming, but in truth, they were all show and little substance. Even if all those weapons were Noble Phantasms, they were merely being thrown, lacking true destructive power.

With a final catastrophic roar, the last of the sixteen Noble Phantasms was knocked away by Flandre.

In the vacuum of silence, amid the settling dust, the petite girl stood tall, unwavering, guarding the Master behind her. All around her—warehouses, streets, nearby structures—had collapsed entirely. Yet the unassuming wand in Flandre's hand remained intact. Archer's scattered Noble Phantasms lay at her feet or embedded in surrounding rubble. Not a single one had hit its mark.

Then Flandre did something that even Yoru couldn't help but admire—she raised her wand and launched a fireball toward Archer.

With that one move, the impression that "she must be a Caster" would likely become deeply engraved in the minds of everyone present.

They would subconsciously forget the scene where she had batted away Archer's Noble Phantasms like a war goddess, and instead only remember her casting a spell in retaliation.

Though she fired a fireball, her target wasn't Archer—but rather the streetlamp he was standing on. The fireball struck true, melting the iron pole like it was butter.

However, before it hit, the golden Heroic Spirit had already leapt from his perch, landing lightly on the ground without issue.

"Fool... Do you want the glorious me, high above in the heavens, to stand down here on the dirt like you!?"

No, that unbothered air from the golden Hero was just for show.

By this point, Archer's fury had clearly reached its peak. Deep furrows etched into his brows turned his handsome face into a twisted scowl.

"Your disrespect toward me warrants a thousand, no, ten thousand deaths. You mongrel standing there—I will utterly annihilate you."

His eyes now burned like crimson lotuses, and as he glared at Flandre, his voice thundered. Around him, weapons once again began to materialize—space itself seemed to warp...

This time, there were thirty-two Noble Phantasms.

Even Rider was shocked into silence.

Everyone had been impressed when the little Caster girl deflected sixteen Noble Phantasms. But no one expected Archer to double down, conjuring twice as many. The truth was undeniable—this golden Archer's potential had surpassed anyone's expectations.

"…Gilgamesh is going all in. He's about to unleash 'Gate of Babylon.'"

Back at the Tohsaka residence, Tokiomi clutched his head as he received the real-time report from Kirei Kotomine via gem communicator.

Even deep underground in the distant Tohsaka mansion, the events of Warehouse Street could be clearly observed. His cooperation with Kirei, the controller of the Assassins, had been going perfectly. Everything should have been proceeding flawlessly.

The only variable… was Gilgamesh, the Heroic Spirit he summoned with the hope that he would become the strongest Servant—and who arrived with the Archer class.

It wasn't wrong to say the Archer class specializes in powerful Noble Phantasms. Gilgamesh had EX-rank Noble Phantasms—this was beyond dispute. But the Holy Grail's assignment of the Archer class also gave him high-ranking Independent Action, meaning he could move without a Master… and that was a mistake.

Tokiomi had always tried to treat Gilgamesh with a level of respect he could stomach, fearing his arrogance. But was Gilgamesh already testing the very limits of that tolerance?

Using Gate of Babylon, his trump card, and revealing it so recklessly in front of other Servants—just to deal with an unknown enemy—was completely unjustifiable.

Going all-out this early was a mistake.

For a Servant with Independent Action who disregarded his Master, the only way to issue commands was with a Command Seal—a limited, three-use, absolute authority.

Taming a Servant like Gilgamesh, who had no respect for his Master, made each Command Seal immeasurably precious.

"Always act with composure, and uphold dignity"—this was the motto passed down through generations of the Tohsaka family. Tokiomi had always taken that to heart. Yet now he was being forced to burn a Command Seal before any other Master.

"Master, you must act now!"

Kirei's voice came sharply through the communicator.

Tokiomi gritted his teeth, staring at the command seals glowing on his armored hand.

Gilgamesh, still seething, turned his murderous gaze away from Berserker.

Instead, his eyes shifted southeast—toward the hills of Miyama Town, the luxurious residential district. Toward the Tohsaka residence.

Did anyone else notice?

"Trying to restrain a king's fury with something like your 'royal advice'... Tokiomi, you grow bolder by the day."

With clear disgust, Archer curled his lips and muttered. The array of Noble Phantasms surrounding him suddenly dimmed and vanished without a trace.

"Consider yourselves lucky tonight."

Though his face still showed signs of anger, the bloodlust in his glowing red eyes faded. His prideful expression, however, remained unchanged.

He cast a scornful look at the remaining Servants.

"You mongrels. I hope next time we meet, you'll offer me a surprise. Only true heroes deserve to gaze upon me."

With that final arrogant proclamation, Archer's body faded into golden particles. His golden armor lost its substance, becoming nothing more than glowing remnants—then disappeared.

No one had expected this ending.

The proud Heroic Spirit who had entered with such overwhelming presence had now departed in such a half-baked, anticlimactic fashion.

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