Medea swears like a sailor, clutching the shattered stump of her arm, as the now-Broken Rule Breaker detonates, its task completed.
And as I stare down at the now-inert clay that used to be Kingu, I find myself feeling… numb.
So. This is what being the worst person to ever live feels like.
"Alright," Galahad says, looking cautiously at the lumpy gray remains of the man who I just gaslighted into believing he was my friend so I could stab him in the back. "Is he dead? Because, speaking as the guy who was blocking his Noble Phantasm and those goddamn daggers while you were all doing that play-within-a-play of yours, I really hope he's dead."
"I'm not really qualified to tell you that," I say, my face a cheerful mask. "Medea?"
"FUCK YOU! I JUST LOST A HAND FOR YOU!"
"Oh, don't be overdramatic, you're a Servant and one of the greatest spellcasters to ever live. You'll have grown it back by tomorrow."
She sighs, still glaring at me. "Fine. He's dead. His body was essentially one of the gods of Mesopotamia's Noble Phantasms. He's more or less an artificial life form, powered by god-tier magecraft. Normally, Rule Breaker would be incapable of disrupting that, but making it into a Broken Phantasm succeeded in destroying the underlying architecture of his body beyond repair. So, congratulations, he's dead. And all it cost us was my hand and Noble Phantasm."
"I think we summoned Rule Breaker once or twice. We can just grab a replacement from on of the junk closets."
She looks at me incredulously. "What?"
"The FATE system summons Noble Phantasms or parts of heroes' legends far more often than it summons the heroes themselves. We actually have two separate copies of Excalibur in Chaldea. Roman uses one of them as a paperweight."
"You… used the Sword of Promised Victory… as a paperweight," Galahad says, looking at me incredulously.
"Roman did. Not like we could have actually used it for anything without its proper owner on hand, after all."
"Splendid!" Shakespeare calls out, making his presence known once more. "Shall we return to our base, so that we may sup together once more?"
"Yeah, sure." I stare at the remains of Kingu one last time. "Just to be safe, we're going to take some precautions."
---
We bury Kingu in five pieces, each one miles apart and at random depths. Galahad secures the Grail, and then we feast to our victory.
It's a somber affair. None of us really feel like celebrating our defeat of Tiamat's eldest son. We all know the truth, after all: We didn't win because we were stronger, or because we were better than him. We didn't win through kindness, or love, or friendship. We won because we were better monsters. No more, and no less.
About halfway through, though, somebody knocks on the door.
Odysseus, still our host, rises, and goes to get it. "That's probably our guests."
"Guests?" I ask, latching onto the words after a moment of silence. "I wasn't aware…"
The door swings wide, and Gilgamesh, King of Uruk, enters.
"…of… any…" FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKK.
He's not alone, either. The servant we identified as Perseus is with him. As are two more. An old man I don't recognize, and a man in white robes, holding a wizard's staff.
"Ah. Welcome to my humble abode, Master," Odysseus, that backstabbing genius weasel of a man, says, still smiling affably. "I was just wondering when you'd show up."
Oh, God, what the Hell was I thinking? Why did I think that sticking around Gilgamesh's Servant, who presumably has a mental link with him could ever be a good idea?
"A pleasure to visit, Odysseus," Gilgamesh says. "I see that the Master of Chaldea and the goddess Ishtar are here."
Is Gilgamesh being polite? I stare at him blankly as he takes a seat between an amused Cu and a spluttering Ishtar.
Okay, odds of this being an imposter… rising.
"Pass me the bread tray," he commands, and I give it to him before I realize what I'm doing.
No, seriously, what is happening right now?
I notice with a start that Odysseus is resting his curved bow against his knee. And then I remember exactly what his Noble Phantasm can do.
Right, no breaking the laws of hospitality. I can do that.
It's almost sad to say that the God-King of Uruk, who I told to go fuck himself not-even a week ago, crashing the party actually livens things up. Before, it was a thing of avoided eye contact, limited conversation, and crippling guilt. Now, however, the guilt has been supplanted by a growing sense of panic.
"What the HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?" Ishtar finally snaps, her face flushed as she points an accusing finger at Gilgamesh.
He pauses mid-bite. "Eating."
"No, I meant here! These ones are mine, Gilgamesh! No poaching them!"
"I also brought this." He offhandedly hands her a clay tablet.
"Yeah, do you really think that- TEN PERCENT?"
"Oh? Well if that's too little, I suppose I could bump it up to fifteen."
"F-F-F-Fifteen?" she repeats faintly, looking overwhelmed.
"All right, twenty. You drive a hard bargain, but I'll go no further."
Ishtar faints on the spot.
"Hm. As expected from so useless a goddess." Then, he tents his fingers, and looks at me. "So, then, Master of Chaldea. I have something I've been meaning to say to you."
Welp. This how I die. I look him in the eye, doing my best to stiffen my back, as, around the table, my Servants prepare to leap into battle. Against Gilgamesh alone, we might scrape out a win. But Gilgamesh with backup, and a bribed Ishtar? We're dead.
"I'm sorry."
"What." I look around, and I'm not the only one who's trying to pick their jaw up off the floor. Even Odysseus looks surprised. But the Servants he brought with him aren't shocked. The wizard in white is actually holding in laughter. Something to think about.
"I am sorry, mongrel. Do not force me to repeat myself." He takes a deep breath, and then continues. "I wish to offer my apologies for misjudging your worth and insulting your prowess as warriors. It was… uncalled for, and not my intent." He takes another deep breath, and then proceeds, his hands clenched tight around the silverware. "You have indeed proven your mettle, and I need your… I need your…" He grits his teeth, and then powers through. "I need your help to save Uruk."
I look him in the eye, and I realize that he hates me. I'm not sure on the why of it, but, then, even I hate me, so I suppose he might not even need a reason. I am a very hateable person. But even so, he's swallowing his hatred, and his pride… for Uruk. Because no matter how much he hates the measures he must take, he will save his home.
I swallow nervously, staring at the King who just proved himself to be ten times the man I'll ever be. What can I say to that except…
"I would be glad to lend you my assistance, your majesty."
"Very well. Will you return to Uruk with me?" he asks.
"Yes. We also have some fairly vital information to share with you." I hesitate, remembering just where we got said information.
"From your interrogation of Kingu," Gilgamesh says, giving me a measured glare. "Do not attempt to lie to me. Odysseus already told me."
"I see." And I do. He doesn't just hate me. He… respects me? I have no idea why, but it's in there. And all I had to do was permanently destroy the last remnant of his best friend.
Jesus, my life is fucked up.
I realize then that Ishtar woke up sometime during Gilgamesh's… display of humility, because she's staring at him in gape mouthed confusion.
"Your table manners are atrocious," Gilgamesh notes, helping himself to some of the stew.
"WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT DID YOU DO TO THE REAL GILGAMESH?" Ishtar finally snaps, pointing a glowing finger at him.
"I grew up, Ishtar. I understand that you might be unfamiliar with the concept, but you really should try it one of these days."
And then the King of Uruk grabs some of the brisket, while his city's patron goddess gapes at him in impotent fury.