"Just what the heck is this place?" Gilgamesh asked as he walked beside Tsutsumi, the two of them riding the escalator up from the Musutafu train station.
Tsutsumi stayed ahead of him, hands in his pockets, acting like bringing the King of Heroes into another world just to talk was completely normal. "This place? It doesn't matter in the current moment."
Gilgamesh stared at the back of his head with a deeply unimpressed look. "You dragged this king out into your cursed Reality Marble just to have a chat?"
Tsutsumi gave a light shrug. "I wanted to talk to you. At least hang out for a bit."
That only made Gilgamesh narrow his eyes more. He had fought plenty of enemies before, and many of them had tried to kill him with all kinds of Noble Phantasms, strange tricks, or desperate last-minute attacks. But this was the first time someone had pulled him into a Reality Marble just to walk around and talk like they were on a normal outing.
"Very well," Gilgamesh said after a moment, crossing his arms as he followed behind Tsutsumi. "If this is your foolish wish, then this king will indulge you."
They stepped out into the street, where the lights of Musutafu reflected off the glass buildings and passing cars. Tsutsumi didn't seem interested in explaining anything further yet.
"So," Tsutsumi said as they stopped in front of a donut shop. He picked out two plain sugar donuts without hesitation and handed one to Gilgamesh. "What's your story?"
The golden king looked at it as if it were some kind of insult.
Then he scoffed, but took it anyway.
The donut was simple, cheap, and completely unremarkable by the standards of a man who could pull almost anything from the Gate of Babylon. He bit into it once, chewed, and swallowed.
"This tastes inferior to anything in my treasury."
"Obviously," Tsutsumi said. "But still edible."
"Why would you ask me that?" Gilgamesh said, finishing it quickly and tossing the wrapper aside. "My story is already recorded. Your world is full of books that speak of my legend."
"They're incomplete," Tsutsumi said as they started walking again. "They tell me how people see you. I want to hear it from you."
Gilgamesh glanced sideways at him, then snorted. "Hmph. A strange reason."
There was a short silence between them before Tsutsumi added, almost casually, "Besides, I don't think you're pathetic enough to lie about your own story."
Gilgamesh clicked his tongue. "Of course not. Who do you think I am? Why would I need to lie about my greatness?"
Tsutsumi smiled faintly. "Exactly."
They walked over a bridge that Tsutsumi and Jiro usually used when heading home from their old school days, the water below reflecting the fading light of the sun. Gilgamesh took in the view for only a second before continuing to walk beside him.
The mood between them stayed strangely calm.
"If you insist on hearing it," Gilgamesh said at last, "then listen well."
Back during the Age of Gods, when the gods still walked the Earth and were worshiped by humanity.
That era held strong until the great goddess Sefar invaded. She would kill numerous gods and destroy many portions of the earth itself, significantly reducing the amount of power the gods held over humanity.
It was because of this that the remaining deities could no longer maintain their physical forms, now manifesting on Earth by possessing compatible humans.
They passed into a music shop, and Tsutsumi casually picked up a guitar from one of the stands while Gilgamesh watched. The blonde king reached for another guitar beside it, clearly intending to show off or at least judge the setup, but he quickly discovered that he had no real talent for the thing.
Tsutsumi, meanwhile, sat down and played through the notes smoothly, without even looking at his hands.
Gilgamesh frowned at that, clearly irritated by how effortlessly it came to him. "Tch. You make it look far too easy."
"Because it is," Tsutsumi said, not even glancing up.
Gilgamesh shoved the guitar back into place with more force than necessary before continuing with his story as they left the music shop.
"To oppose Sefar, they created me," Gilgamesh said, lifting his chin slightly.
"The First Hero. The King of Heroes, Gilgamesh." He said his own title with obvious pride, though the edge in his voice suggested he had no interest in repeating it for anyone's approval. "They built me for the sole purpose of preserving their rule."
Tsutsumi said. "So you were made to be a tool."
Gilgamesh's eyes flicked toward him. "Do not reduce it so crudely."
"That's what it sounds like."
A faint crease formed between Gilgamesh's brows, but he continued anyway.
He was born as two-thirds god from his goddess mother and one-third human from his human father.
"That ratio doesn't really make sense," Tsutsumi said. "Unless your father wasn't fully human, but also half god."
Gilgamesh shrugged without concern. "Details like that are irrelevant. They fulfilled their role. That's all that matters."
Tsutsumi didn't push it further.
This provided him with the perspective of a god while also ensuring he had the physical tether of a human. This places Gilgamesh in a position where he can rule over humanity as both a god and a human.
They both continue to move, stopping inside a small book cafe in the street of Vale, the same place Tsutsumi took Pyrrha to for their second date.
Gilgamesh sat across from him with a cup of coffee in hand, looking mildly offended by the fact that it wasn't anything extraordinary.
He took a sip, then frowned. "Tch. It's average."
"Maybe to someone who's tasted things better than this," Tsutsumi said, stirring his own cup. "But for ordinary people, something simple like this already means a lot."
Gilgamesh didn't argue right away.
He looked down at the coffee, then at Tsutsumi. "Perhaps," he said at last. "Someone like you would find this ordinary cup tasteful."
Tsutsumi leaned back slightly. "Maybe. But that's kind of the point."
Gilgamesh waited.
"In your eyes," Tsutsumi continued, "it might not be perfect. But in mine, the fact that it's imperfect is what makes it good."
He set the cup down. "Nobody is perfect."
"People have their flaws, that's what makes them people. It makes them... special."
For a short moment, Gilgamesh said nothing. Then his gaze drifted toward the blue sky outside the cafe window.
"You're not wrong," he admitted. "If all mongrels were exactly the same, then this world would be unbearable. Humans only become interesting because they grow, change, and move beyond what they were before."
He took another sip, this time without complaint.
"With my Clairvoyance," he said, "I can see the potential in them. That is why they are worth watching and ruling over."
Tsutsumi rested one elbow on the table. "Then you do understand why people matter to you."
Gilgamesh gave him a flat look. "Do not put it so sentimentally."
"It still sounds like that."
The King of Heroes looked away again. "Humans would never reach their full potential under the rule of gods. Their existence would remain stagnant with the gods restricting their independence."
Tsutsumi looked at him for a moment, then asked, "And do you think you made the right choice?"
Gilgamesh's expression shifted slightly, but he didn't answer immediately.
The cafe stayed quiet around them, the sound of low conversation and the occasional clink of cups filling the space between their words.
"At one point," Gilgamesh said at last, "I believed it was simply the way things were. Gods stood above. Humans stayed below. That was enough."
He rested a hand against the table. "Then time passed, and I saw what humans could become without the influence of the gods."
Tsutsumi waited.
Gilgamesh's tone remained steady as the two of them stood up and left the café, their conversation carrying on as naturally as if they had been talking about something ordinary. The city continued moving around them, people passing by without paying them much attention, while Tsutsumi listened in silence.
"I belonged to neither the gods nor humanity," Gilgamesh said as they walked. "I am an existence that transcended both."
Tsutsumi didn't respond right away. He glanced to the side as they passed an all-you-can-eat buffet, where Oguri Cap was inside eating with a level of dedication that made it look like the restaurant might not survive the night. A little further down, they walked past the Hollow Operations Section 6 main headquarters, where members were still inside working while one seat and one desk remained empty beside Miyabi's.
Gilgamesh continued speaking as if the sight of all of it was irrelevant.
"Since I can understand life from the perspective of both humans and gods, I was able to judge them both," he said. "I told the gods that I would obey them and respect them. But in the end, I also told them to perish. The moment they created me, they surrendered their own place."
The King of Heroes repeated the statement with a kind of pride that made it clear he still stood by it to this day.
"When I realized that, I began ruling Uruk as a tyrant. To force humanity to grow, hardship was necessary. Those beneath me had no choice but to endure, and through that endurance, humanity would accelerate its own development. They would build their own order."
He paused briefly, looking toward the setting sun in the distance.
"A human order," he said, "that would eventually pave the way for the Age of Man."
Tsutsumi could understand the logic behind it. Gilgamesh wasn't speaking like a man obsessed with cruelty for its own sake. He was speaking like someone who believed pressure was the only way to make something grow. In that way, it was not so different from the standard he had set for humanity through the Gate of Babylon itself.
After all, the treasury contained the prototypes of weapons that would later become the foundation for humanity's progress. In a way, the Gate of Babylon was not just a collection of treasure, but a standard. A benchmark that humanity was meant to surpass one day.
"So," Gilgamesh said, turning back to him, "as the last god-like king and the first human king, I became the final obstacle humanity would need to overcome. That is how they would earn the right to begin their own age."
Tsutsumi gave a small shrug, his tone still casual. "Not a bad standard. A little high, though, don't you think?"
Gilgamesh sneered. "You are the last one who should say that. The existence of someone like you has already proven my judgment correct."
He stopped walking for a moment, red eyes fixed directly on Tsutsumi.
"You are the second person I have acknowledged as being strong enough to stand beside me as an equal."
There was no hesitation in his voice when he said it.
Gilgamesh was no fool. Even if Tsutsumi annoyed him, even if he had every reason to dismiss him, he could still see the difference between ordinary strength and the kind Tsutsumi carried. Tsutsumi didn't look at him with fear. He didn't look at him like someone trying to measure whether he was dangerous. He also didn't look at him like he was an equal opponent in the usual sense.
He looked at him like someone who simply existed.
That, more than anything else, was what Gilgamesh noticed.
Even in his own era, Gilgamesh had never possessed the kind of power that could transcend time and space the way Tsutsumi could. That kind of power is something only possessed by the god, and the being standing before him carries no trait of Divinity. That fact didn't make him admit defeat, but it did make him aware of what kind of existence he was dealing with.
Still, the King of Heroes would never acknowledge someone as above him without absolute proof. Not without fighting them properly. Not without seeing everything they had and losing first, if that was what it took.
He and his only true friend had once fought with everything they had and still ended in a draw.
That was the sort of standard Gilgamesh accepted.
After a moment, his expression changed again, the distant look in his eyes returning.
"Still," he said, "the current humanity is flawed."
The wind picked up around them, moving through the street and pushing their hair. The sky had begun to darken now, the orange light of the sunset stretching their shadows across the pavement.
"Humanity is a beast that cannot enjoy life without sacrifice," Gilgamesh continued. "Equality is nonsense."
The sound of cherry petals drifting through the air suddenly joined the wind, falling around them in small scattered waves.
"A lie spouted by those too weak to look upon the darkness. An excuse to cover up the ugliness they can't accept."
The setting sun cast a warm glow across the street, while their shadows stretched out behind them.
"And I, as the first king, shall cleanse this world of these weaklings and restart humanity." Gilgamesh said.
"People aren't tools," Tsutsumi said. "They aren't born with predetermined roles."
His voice was calm, but there was no uncertainty in it.
"Yes, there are weaklings who are too cowardly to look into the dark void and who invent excuses to cover up the ugliness they refuse to accept." The petals continued to fall around them as Tsutsumi spoke. "That part's true."
His purple eyes met Gilgamesh's red ones.
"But that doesn't change the fact that there are still people out there who have the ability and the possibility to change the world. People willing to face impossible odds to protect humanity and make sure it survives."
The wind pushed the petals past them, carrying them along the street in a soft stream.
Gilgamesh's expression sharpened. "That still does not excuse them becoming wasteful and meaningless as they are now."
"The moment you step in and change them to suit your own image, they stop being human." Tsutsumi responded. "Our flaws are what make us who we are."
"If you do so. Then you'll just become another god," Tsutsumi said, "the very kind you despise and rebel against."
Gilgamesh looked at him coldly. "You do not accept what is necessary."