The Epic of Gilgash is undoubtedly the oldest known epic still in existence, and its significance to the entirety of human history is beyond question.
However, significance does not always equal fa. When it cos to renown, there are many epics that can rival, or even surpass, it—such as The Iliad and The Odyssey, or The Nibelungenlied, which recounts the tales of Norse mythology.
The na of Shinji's highest-level magic, "Ragnarok Saga," also derives from The Nibelungenlied. The doomsday scene it depicts bears an astonishing resemblance to the flood of Napishtim in the Epic of Gilgash.
Both feature fire descending from the heavens, followed by a deluge that engulfs the world.
The Hero King, who has sublimated the epic, recreated this scene with his Noble Phantasms, while Shinji, as an observer, added his understanding.
Given the favorable environnt provided by Gilgash, there was no way Shinji would pass up such an opportunity.
From the perspective of a magus, Shinji was by no ans exceptional. He was not on the sa level as Lorelei—the pinnacle of magecraft users—or even as skilled as young talents like Rin, Sakura, Luvia, Flat, or Svin.
But in this mont, in this unique confluence of ti, place, and people, Shinji transcended his normal limits. Without using a Noble Phantasm, he ascended to greater heights, glimpsing the pinnacle of Rune Magic.
The brilliance he displayed at that mont was sothing even the two kings, who wielded the powers of "Creation" and "Annihilation," could not ignore.
The lingering waves of destruction were gathered by Shinji, transforming into nine water dragons that roared as they surged. The light of twilight pierced through, reenacting myth and recreating the epic.
Seeing this, Scáthach smiled with satisfaction: "I don't know where you learned this, but you've done well, my disciple—my chosen one."
Gilgash, on the other hand, snorted: "To dare lose focus while fighting ? Truly foolish."
"It's not losing focus; it's battle instinct," Scáthach chuckled.
"If Shinji hadn't used it, I would have."
"I see."
"You don't seem very concerned?"
"Concerned? About who? Rin?"
Gilgash raised an eyebrow, full of confidence.
"There's nothing to worry about. Rin can handle sothing of this level. You're not the only one who has placed hope in that clown—I have full faith in Rin as well. The outco is still undecided! Look—"
Before he could finish speaking, the twilight-lit sky, obscured by the nine water dragons, erupted with a blinding light.
It was pure magic energy—a radiance that only appears when mana concentration reaches its peak, dazzling to any magus.
This light broke through the barriers of the water dragons and the twilight glow, like a sword piercing the point where the nine dragons converged.
"Oh, still hiding sothing, are we?"
The Queen who governed the world's causality wore a rare expression of surprise.
"This isn't magecraft—it's True Magic. That old man actually... how amusing. How very amusing."
"In the end, this is just a sideshow between children. More importantly, you've rested enough, haven't you, Queen of the Land of Shadows?"
The sword held by Gilgash, the Sword of Rupture, began to rotate once again, and in response, the space behind him started to glow.
"Are you not speaking about yourself, Hero King?"
Scáthach shifted her heel, inscribing ancient runes on the ground.
Another silent exchange of glances.
Then, from the Gate of Babylon, dozens, no—hundreds of Noble Phantasms erged.
Almost at the sa mont, the first rune split into two, two beca four, and four beca sixteen. They multiplied geotrically, covering the ground in an instant.
A breath later, the Noble Phantasms and runes collided, the sounds of their clashes filling the battlefield like the howling of a fierce wind.
Yet, for the two kings standing tall, this was rely the most basic of greetings. Between the endless barrage of greetings, both sovereigns began to make new moves.
Gilgash connected the space to the deepest parts of his treasury, allowing the most prized items in his collection to float around him one by one.
anwhile, Scáthach turned her spear, lightly tapping the ground.
Instantly, dozens of crimson spears, identical to the one she wielded, pierced through the earth, neatly forming a spear formation awaiting their master's command.
There was no doubt—these were spears of the sa model as the fad Gáe Bolg from Celtic mythology, all crafted by the Queen of the Land of Shadows before she was exiled from the world's surface after hunting the Beasts of the Waves.
The spear that Cú Chulainn took was rely the finest of them all, judged by a combination of factors such as power, precision, handling, and mana consumption. In terms of individual attributes, so of these spears even surpassed the famous Gáe Bolg.
These spears were what Scáthach relied on to counter Gilgash's high-level Noble Phantasms.
As if showing off to an old friend, the Hero King solemnly swung his Noble Phantasms by hand.
He selected:
The Sword of Rupture, Ea.
The Demonic Sword, Gram.
The Indestructible Holy Sword, Durandal.
The Sword of Högni.
The Caladbolg.
The Divine Declaration (Gungnir).
...
Each of these was a legendary Noble Phantasm, each one having aided its master in achieving earth-shattering feats.
Now, they were all being used against one person—the eternal queen, who neither aged nor died.
In turn, the eternal queen responded with her spears—spears that were designed as throwing weapons, making them most suited for this kind of confrontation.
For powerful weapons like Gram and the Caladbolg, she used spears enhanced for destructive capacity. For precision weapons like Gungnir, she countered with spears imbued with a sure-hit property.
During the monts when Gilgash switched between Noble Phantasms, she would occasionally throw the fastest strike.
In terms of the quality of the Noble Phantasms, Scáthach was undoubtedly inferior to Gilgash. But when it ca to mastery of their use, Scáthach held an absolute advantage, balancing the scales. Once again, the two kings found themselves in a stalemate.
However, this stalemate could not last forever. Gilgash's treasury was inexhaustible, but Scáthach's spears were not. Eventually, they would be depleted—especially once Gilgash shifted his target from Scáthach herself to her spears; the outco beca even more apparent.
Before long, Scáthach's spears were all but destroyed, leaving her with only two remaining in her hands.
From his lofty position, Gilgash had no intention of stopping. The Demonic Sword Gram swung down with deadly force as if to cleave the woman below in two.
Scáthach's expression did not change. While maintaining her barrage of runes, she stomped the ground forcefully and launched herself toward the Hero King in the sky with a speed far greater than that of a thrown spear.
Noble Phantasm user?
Equipnt user?
These labels had never defined her. She was a true master of technique—one whose skill, honed to the utmost, was enough to slay gods!
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