The atmosphere became subtle at this moment.
However, just as Rider was preparing to share the wine with everyone and Saber was about to speak up in rebuttal...
Buzz—!
An ancient, arrogant, and cold aura abruptly appeared above the courtyard.
This aura was not killing intent directed at an enemy, but a form of disdain originating from the depths of the soul.
That innate sense of superiority caused the air to freeze instantly.
Accompanying it were countless golden particles of light converging atop the tallest European-style streetlamp in the courtyard.
"Hmph... To be in such a filthy place, mingling with a bunch of mongrels..."
A magnetic yet incredibly punchable voice drifted down from above.
The converging spirit particles quickly outlined a suit of blindingly gaudy gold armor; blond hair stood up, and red pupils shone like blood.
That man—the man with 'wealth' and 'arrogance' written all over his face—had appeared.
The King of Heroes... scratch that, the King of Streetlights, Gilgamesh.
"Since this is a Banquet of Kings, how could it be missing the true King?"
He stood high atop the streetlamp, arms crossed over his chest, with the bright full moon behind him as if even the moon were merely his backdrop.
Those crimson snake-like pupils were full of undisguised contempt as he looked down upon everyone sitting on the grass, his gaze finally fixing on the crude wooden barrel in Rider's hands.
"Is this the quality of wine for a Banquet of Kings? It truly ruins one's appetite."
Gilgamesh gave a cold laugh. "It seems this King has come to the wrong place."
"This is no banquet for kings; it's clearly a dinner for beggars."
Gilgamesh's appearance caused the previously harmonious atmosphere to instantly drop to the freezing point.
Saber's hand tightened around her wine cup, her knuckles turning white.
Irisviel subconsciously grabbed Hansen's sleeve, her body trembling slightly. After all, last time at the warehouse district, this guy had released hundreds of noble phantasms without hesitation; that destructive power still left her with lingering fears.
Only Hansen remained sitting there with a calm expression.
He knew that if there was excitement to be had, Gilgamesh wouldn't miss it.
"Since you're here, why not come down for a drink?"
Rider acted as if he hadn't understood the mockery, or perhaps his broad heart simply didn't care about such provocations.
Holding up a wooden ladle, he issued a warm invitation: "Though this wine is indeed ordinary, being able to drink it on the battlefield gives it a unique flavor! This King specifically went to the market to pick it out!"
"Hmph."
Gilgamesh snorted coldly. Though his face was written with reluctance, his body honestly transformed into spirit particles, vanishing from the streetlamp and instantly appearing within the courtyard.
"Since you have invited me so sincerely, this King shall reluctantly watch the performance of you clowns."
Gilgamesh walked before the crowd but did not sit on the ground like the others.
His crimson eyes glanced with disgust at the wooden ladle in Rider's hand, which was still dripping with cheap red wine stains, as if it were germ-infested trash.
"Forget about this swill meant for low-lifes. Allowing such a thing to enter this King's throat would be a profanity against me."
As he spoke, Gilgamesh gave an elegant wave of his right hand.
Buzz—!
A familiar golden ripple shimmered in the space behind him—the gate leading to the ancient treasury of Babylon—
The Gate of Babylon.
But this time, what he brought out was not some lethal noble phantasm, but a set of luxurious wine vessels that would make any modern museum pale in comparison.
A wine pot made entirely of an unknown golden metal, inlaid with massive rubies and sapphires.
And four wine cups carved from single pieces of high-purity mana crystal, crystal clear and emitting a seven-colored glow.
The moment these items were brought out, the brilliant light they reflected under the moon nearly blinded everyone present except for Hansen.
An ancient, noble, and sacred aura washed over them.
"This is the equipment a King should use," Gilgamesh said arrogantly.
With a thought, the golden wine pot tilted automatically, slowly pouring out a clear, amber-like liquid.
Splatter... the sound of the liquid pouring into the crystal cups was pleasant to the ear, like a mountain spring hitting stones.
The moment the liquid touched the air...
An indescribably mellow aroma of wine instantly exploded outward.
That fragrance immediately overwhelmed the scent of Rider's barrel of red wine, even completely suppressing the surrounding scent of green grass and earth.
It wasn't just the aroma of wine; it was more like a sublimation of magical energy.
Just a single whiff made one feel clear-headed and refreshed, as if their soul had been cleansed and elevated.
Even Irisviel, who knew nothing of wine, couldn't help but show an entranced expression.
"This is fine wine passed down from the Age of Gods, nectar that belongs only to Kings."
Gilgamesh picked up a cup and swirled it gently, watching the perfect legs the liquid left on the crystal walls, his eyes full of self-satisfaction. "Since we are to discuss the Way of Kings, let's first see if you have the qualification to drink this cup."
Rider paused for a moment, then laughed loudly, unceremoniously reaching out to take a cup and draining it in one gulp.
Gulp... gulp... Ha!"
The King of Conquerors wiped the wine stains from his beard, his eyes wide as copper bells as he couldn't help but praise loudly: "Good wine! Truly excellent wine! That thick texture feels as if one can see the endless starry sky and the path of conquest!"
"This King admits, in terms of taste, you have won, King of Conquerors!"
Saber hesitated for a moment before picking up a cup and taking a small sip.
Though she didn't want to admit it, the taste of this wine far exceeded any vintage she had ever tasted in the British court during her lifetime.
That delicate texture and aftertaste caused her furrowed brows to relax slightly, and the stifling frustration in her heart from Lancer's death seemed to dissipate quite a bit.
Seeing this, the smile on Gilgamesh's face became even more arrogant.
That feeling of completely crushing his opponents in terms of material, taste, and heritage gave him immense pleasure.
This was the posture a King should have—using absolute strength and wealth to let these mongrels understand the vastness of the world.
Finally.
Gilgamesh's gaze swept around, eventually landing on Hansen, who was holding that ruby and remaining silent.
Regarding this man who had once made him suffer a setback in the warehouse district, Gilgamesh's feelings were extremely complex.
There was wariness and loathing, but more so a distorted desire to win, to reclaim his honor and see the other party bow before him.
Gilgamesh extended a finger, using magic to slide the final crystal cup, filled with amber liquid, toward Hansen.
The cup slid across the grass, stopping precisely at Hansen's feet.
"What? Do you not dare to drink?"
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