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"Hoho… they're not that bad for humans," one of the men said with a crooked grin.
"Yes, but even so, they're still just humans. Let's kill them quickly," another added.
"Yes, yes, we will kill them," the little girl said cheerfully, smiling as if discussing something trivial.
"Oh, what a shame," the fair-haired woman purred, her gaze crawling over Gilgamesh with open lust. "Such a pretty boy…"
Mordred stepped forward.
She raised her right hand.
A crimson ray descended into her palm, condensing instantly into solid form.
When the light faded, a sword remained.
An ornate, glittering blade of white silver adorned with splendid decorations—radiant and regal, carrying the unmistakable authority of royalty.
Clarent.
The Royal Radiant and Shining Sword.
Mordred's sword.
Once guarded by King Arthur himself in Camelot's armory, Clarent was described as "more dazzling than any silver." A blade equal to—if not surpassing—Caliburn, a weapon that extended the king's authority itself, carrying the very aura of royalty.
"Hoho… looks like the feisty girl knows how to fight," the woman laughed, motioning for the others to advance.
A crimson aura began to radiate from Mordred's body.
Gilgamesh calmly stepped aside.
He already knew what was coming.
"What did you call me, old lady?" Mordred asked coldly.
"On guard, brat," the woman replied, laughing.
Then she stopped.
The Fallen Angels blinked.
Something was wrong.
The woman was no longer speaking.
Her body swayed.
Her head slid cleanly from her shoulders and hit the ground with a dull thud.
Mordred now stood before them, Clarent raised.
"Hey, Master, let me handle things here," Mordred said casually before charging forward.
The Fallen Angels froze for half a second—then panic spread through their ranks.
Gilgamesh turned his attention upward.
Three Fallen Angels hovered above him.
"You just caught her by surprise. Don't get arrogant, humans," one of them sneered.
Together, they raised their hands.
Dozens of spears of light formed in the sky.
They hurled them downward at Gilgamesh.
Gilgamesh watched the incoming attack with visible boredom.
"Magic of Light: Arrows of Conviction."
Space itself distorted.
Hundreds of radiant spears materialized around Gilgamesh, forming a vast halo of light.
The Fallen Angels stared in disbelief.
"This," Gilgamesh said calmly, "is what a spear of light looks like."
With a gesture, he sent them forward.
There was no comparison.
The quality, density, and power of Gilgamesh's light spears vastly surpassed those of the Fallen Angels.
Their attacks were erased instantly.
Gilgamesh's spears continued onward, piercing through the Fallen Angels and killing them on the spot.
Meanwhile, a stray spear of light flew toward Gilgamesh—
Only to be shattered midair by Clarent.
"You're rusty, Master," Mordred said with a grin, resting Clarent on her shoulder.
"I saw it," Gilgamesh replied flatly.
They turned.
The only remaining Fallen Angel was the little blue-haired girl.
She stared at them in pure horror.
"Damn it! I came here thinking they were humans—not monsters!" she screamed, flapping her wings and trying to flee.
Before she could escape, a chain wrapped around her neck and slammed her into the ground.
When she opened her eyes, Gilgamesh stood before her.
Without hesitation, he kicked her in the stomach.
The impact crushed the air from her lungs and pinned her to the ground.
She couldn't move.
"Who sent you?" Gilgamesh asked coldly.
"I—I can't talk… he'll kill me!" the girl cried.
Gilgamesh leaned closer.
"Are you more afraid of who might kill you," he asked quietly, "or of me, who will kill you if you don't answer?"
His power began to leak.
Darkness poured from his body.
The barrier trembled violently.
The pressure became suffocating.
Mordred felt a shiver run down her spine.
She knew that look.
Not his teasing smile.
Not his battle excitement.
This was pure, unfiltered rage.
The fury of a King.
She had seen it once before.
Years ago, Gilgamesh had spared a devil and even befriended him.
Later, they discovered that devil had been plotting to force Valerie into his peerage.
When Gilgamesh found them—
There was no battle.
No mercy.
It was carnage.
Electrocution.
Poison.
Drowning.
Dismemberment.
Burning.
Mutilation.
Torture beyond imagination.
The devils died not from wounds—but from pain overload.
Their minds shattered.
Valerie had been unharmed.
But since that day, Gilgamesh had become merciless toward enemies.
And fiercely protective of those close to him.
Even Mordred, hardened by countless battles, never forgot it.
Now that same rage was focused entirely on the trembling Fallen Angel.
The girl saw dozens of deaths reflected in Gilgamesh's eyes.
"I'll ask once more."
"Who sent you?" Gilgamesh roared, his voice turning demonic.
From the shadows, nightmarish creatures began to emerge—things born only from the deepest fears of warriors.
"K-Kokabiel!" the girl screamed.
Instantly, the darkness vanished.
Gilgamesh went silent.
Kokabiel.
He had expected retaliation.
But not this soon.
A golden gate opened beside him.
From it emerged a sword.
Simple.
Plain.
Almost indistinguishable from an ordinary blade.
Silver, slightly curved, razor sharp.
Only its reddish dagger-like hilt with silver accents set it apart.
The Fallen Angel stared at it in terror.
Even from where she lay, she felt agony radiating from the weapon.
Screams echoed in her mind.
The moment Gilgamesh grasped the sword, black miasma exploded outward.
The blade seemed alive.
Rejoicing.
Welcoming its master.
Without hesitation, Gilgamesh drove the sword straight into the Fallen Angel's abdomen.
"I thought you would set me free…" she whispered through the pain.
Gilgamesh leaned closer.
"I never said I would."