It was not enough that Enki had been run through countless times. He should have died. For the first time, he nearly cursed the divinity which let him survive such abuses. Alas, relief would come soon enough... after even more pain that lasted only a moment, or so he would believe. Into his jaw and through the brain, the chain of Nanshe ended Enki's life before the many expansions of the vengeful weapon took place. Such relief, but sadly, he would be waking to experience that feeling in the Underworld.
Meanwhile, Gilgamesh observed every moment of the former god's downfall. He'd be meeting with that one shortly, but for now, it was all over. He looked not toward the Queen of Knights, nor to Nanshe even as the Authorities of Enki were consumed and spread to the world. This event had reached a conclusion, but could it truly be considered an end? No, it could not. There was so much more to do, the least of which was dealing with the dignity of one Artoria Pendragon. Seething no less than before, he opened another gate. "Your audience awaits. The rags of a chamber wench are scarcely befitting of a queen. Go in glory," he stated as his own golden armor emerged from that golden ripple. Despite being fitted to his form, it was a thing that could be applied to any shape or size. There were some... caveats, so to speak, but it would be better suited than the garments of a whore regardless. Artoria was one of a very, very small few he would ever give allowance to, given the unique status of his armor as the only known plate of its mold forged while Mystery ruled the world.
Meanwhile, Gilgamesh observed every moment of the former god's downfall. He'd be meeting with that one shortly, but for now, it was all over. He looked not toward the Queen of Knights, nor to Nanshe even as the Authorities of Enki were consumed and spread to the world. This event had reached a conclusion, but could it truly be considered an end? No, it could not. There was so much more to do, the least of which was dealing with the dignity of one Artoria Pendragon. Seething no less than before, he opened another gate. "Your audience awaits. The rags of a chamber wench are scarcely befitting of a queen. Go in glory," he stated as his own golden armor emerged from that golden ripple. Despite being fitted to his form, it was a thing that could be applied to any shape or size. There were some... caveats, so to speak, but it would be better suited than the garments of a whore regardless. Artoria was one of a very, very small few he would ever give allowance to, given the unique status of his armor as the only known plate of its mold forged while Mystery ruled the world.
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