Note: If you want the continuity of this story consider to join Pãtreon/Flokixy to access advance Chapters and help me translate more Chapters for you
Each and every Noble Phantasm blocking Verethragna's path was cleared away with ease.
The exaggeratedly handsome youth was fiercely aiming a heavy kick downwards at that golden figure.
That was the incarnation of the Camel, carrying with it incomparable kicking power.
If it landed, it would absolutely not be a simple matter of a heavy blow.
It's estimated that even a proper corpse would be difficult to preserve.
However, this attack, this ferocious blow...
...has reached its limit.
That was a shining silver chain, called the Chain of Heaven, a Noble Phantasm for gods.
No matter what kind of power the target possessed, as long as their divinity was sufficiently concentrated, this Noble Phantasm could easily make it impossible for them to break free.
It could be said to be an absolute crushing Noble Phantasm against those who possessed divinity.
And at this moment, these chains were unquestionably wrapped around Verethragna's body, which was by no means muscular.
An absolute, undeniable power directly stopped this blow, which contained immense force, in mid-air.
At this moment, the battle was truly decided.
However, perhaps it wasn't that simple.
Gilgamesh gently turned his head. On that handsome, disproportionate face, balanced by masculinity and beauty, was an expression of contempt towards the Heretic God.
And, an incomparable killing intent, without a trace of mercy.
"Mongrel, your so-called victory ends here."
From his mouth, he uttered words that Verethragna had anticipated.
However, this youth would not give up so easily.
"Excellent, very excellent, King of Heroes. You are indeed admirable. To make this one experience such a disadvantage is truly a unique achievement."
His words were slightly relaxed, as if he hadn't realized his predicament at all.
This excessively ancient tone was undoubtedly uttered from the youth's mouth.
Indeed, this defeat, for Verethragna, was less about a lack of power and more about a failure in strategy or tactics.
Merely for pausing slightly by the King of Heroes' side, he was found out and defeated.
However, even so, even with such a disadvantage, it made him even more joyous.
How long had it been since he tasted such a disadvantage? Even that fellow with incomparable intellect, who could be called the limit of a mortal, named Zoroaster, had not made him suffer such a defeat.
This alone was enough to make him feel pleasure.
However, he wasn't here simply to experience defeat.
What he sought was, after defeat, a more resolute, repeated effort, and a fiercer tempering of himself.
And,
Once again, a more brilliant, more dazzling, and more deeply etched victory in legend!
"Mongrel, you should wait until you are dead before uttering such boring delusions!"
Those were arrogant, but also slightly angry words, spoken from the King of Heroes' mouth, carrying a powerful sense of authority, heavily pressing down on Verethragna's seemingly fragile body.
Then,
The youth saw,
Those one by one, layer upon layer, things that could be called divine miracles.
They were Noble Phantasms, the crystallization of human wisdom and valor, something exceedingly precious in this world.
They were power that could crush this world, and peerless wealth.
On the faintly rippling surface of the waves, one by one, things that could be called rare treasures and things utterly unsuited to be near them were slowly emerging from within.
Whether it was a holy sword inlaid with gems, or a giant scythe wrapped in gold, or a short spear cast from silver, or a heavy halberd surrounded by layer upon layer of scarlet bloodstains.
These weapons, some extremely noble, some incomparably luxurious, and others that exuded the weight of history in their simplicity and plainness, were thus placed before the Heretic God as if they were some rough and shoddy objects.
"Your collection is truly a bit exaggerated."
Verethragna couldn't help but click his tongue in amazement, looking at this scene that could be called a magnificent spectacle.
Then, he saw the scene the wild boar, which he had just released, saw last.
It was a torrential rain of light, a tide formed by light, or countless extremely precious Noble Phantasms.
Thus, one by one, they shot towards him.
Immediately after, golden divine blood splattered.
One after another, Noble Phantasms, in various forms, fiercely pierced the youth's body.
As if he had been punctured, golden divine blood flowed towards the ground, slowly gathering into a small pool.
However, on the youth's face, there wasn't the slightest trace of pain.
No, perhaps not even the most basic anger or hatred was present in the slightest.
A cheerful, relaxed smile, as if completely unconcerned, gently hung on his handsome face.
"It... it really hurts."
Verethragna said softly, a hint of bitterness in his tone, but not much.
As a War God, he had experienced such pain countless times in countless battles, one after another, over and over again.
This alone didn't even qualify to make him frown.
Then, a faint white light appeared.
A male sheep with exquisite, curly horns, always present, vividly materialized behind the youth.
This was his Authority, the Authority of the Male Sheep, one of the ten incarnations.
It allowed for high-speed recovery when on the verge of death, or even when close to death, it would grant the holder of this incarnation the strength to fight.
And at this moment, that was exactly what was happening.
"Truly, this war is far from reaching its finale, King of Heroes! Let this one, let the Military God of the East, this Verethragna, have a good look at your magnanimity as the oldest king!"
That was a great laugh, a hearty laugh, even while entangled in layers of the Chain of Heaven, even while suffering incomparable injuries, even before that absolutely undeniable, rare, and powerful enemy.
He, Verethragna, showed not a single trace of fear.
Because he was a god, a Heretic God, the one who brings victory.
"Still not planning to face defeat, huh? Such will might be commendable, but, mongrel, your crime of offending this King is not something that can be measured by a thousand cuts!"
Gilgamesh looked at the youth, who was already covered in blood. His scarlet serpentine eyes also narrowed slightly.
He wasn't being emotional; he was merely confirming this fellow's will.
No matter how damnable his actions were, it couldn't conceal his arrogance within the concept of 'warrior.' Gilgamesh would never be stingy with his admiration.
However, that was all there was to it.
The mongrel who offended the King must be utterly annihilated!
However, a slight smile appeared on Verethragna's face, as if in response to Gilgamesh's praise.
Then,
He used his cheerful but slightly hoarse voice, gently reciting the invincible mantra.
"I am the Victor!"