As the servants continued to argue, the room grew thick with a tense, electric silence. Each of them was consumed by the weight of their desires, the stakes of the Holy Grail War laid bare in the flickering candlelight.
Gilgamesh's sharp, amber eyes swept across the gathered heroes, a faint, amused smile playing on her lips. "A wish?" she said, voice cool and commanding, yet laced with undeniable authority. "I have no need for wishes. The Grail itself is the prize — an object of ultimate power and wealth. It is not a tool for granting petty desires." She tilted her head slightly, her confidence almost palpable. "I want the Grail simply because I desire it. To possess what no one else can."
Iskander, the King of Conquerors, laughed heartily, the sound echoing warmly around the chamber. "A fine ambition! But I have a wish — to regain a mortal body. To live again among men, to taste freedom and fight with the strength of a living warrior, not a legend bound by death." His eyes gleamed with genuine yearning, shining beneath his jovial exterior.
All eyes then turned toward Guts, the lone warrior standing apart from the rest. His hands gripped the massive Dragonslayer sword tightly, muscles taut with restrained fury. He said nothing, but his silence carried the weight of unspoken pain and relentless resolve — a wish forged in hardship and bloodshed, far too deep for words.
Artoria, the stoic King of Knights, lowered her gaze, voice steady and resolute. "I wish to return to the past. To rewrite history — to save those lost and prevent the tragedies that shaped my fate."
Gilgamesh's smile twisted into a sneer. "Change the past? How quaint. Do you truly believe tampering with fate is noble? You sound like a child clinging to regrets." Her voice dripped with scorn. "History is not a storybook to be rewritten at your whim."
Iskander's brow furrowed as he shook his head. "Aye, Artoria, I respect your honor, but messing with time? That's dangerous folly. History is forged by those who live it — you can't simply undo what's been done without consequences."
From the shadowed corner, Diarmud stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. "Changing the past is not just folly; it's a betrayal of the very honor we hold dear. The past, with all its pain and victory, shapes who we are. To erase it is to dishonor those who sacrificed themselves." He glanced briefly at Artoria, respect still evident in his tone despite his disagreement. "We cannot rewrite history, only learn from it."
Even Guts shifted slightly, his voice low and gravelly as he finally spoke, "The past is dead. Trying to change it only drags you into darkness. Accept it, or be consumed."
The room simmered with tension, their words like blades cutting through Artoria's conviction. The others' dismissals were not just disagreement — they were warnings. To change the past was to challenge the very flow of fate, and none were willing to underestimate the cost.
Artoria's eyes flickered with desperation as she met their unyielding gazes. "You don't understand," she said, her voice trembling slightly, "I don't seek to change history out of selfishness or regret. I want to save lives — to prevent the suffering of countless innocents, to stop the cycle of pain that doomed so many."
She stepped forward, her fists clenched at her sides. "If I can undo the mistakes I made, the betrayals, the wars… maybe then, the future can be different. Better. Isn't that worth fighting for?"
Gilgamesh's eyes narrowed, unimpressed. "Naive idealism. The world is not so easily mended by rewriting its past. You risk unraveling the very fabric of reality, all for a dream that cannot be."
Iskander crossed his arms, nodding slowly. "I fought and died in this world's time. No wish can give me back what's lost. Trying to change the past only invites chaos and suffering — worse than what you seek to prevent."
Diarmud's voice was quieter but just as firm. "Honor lies in bearing the weight of what has happened, not in running from it. Your wish denies the sacrifices made, the lessons learned through pain."
Guts' dark eyes held a hard truth. "You think saving everyone will heal your soul, but it will trap you in endless torment. Sometimes, the only way forward is to face the past, no matter how brutal."
Artoria's shoulders sagged, the fire in her eyes dimming as she absorbed their words. She wanted so desperately to believe in her cause, but now she saw the heavy price her wish demanded — a price none were willing to pay.
The silence that followed was not empty but filled with the unspoken understanding that some desires, no matter how pure, carried burdens too great to bear.