Chapter 44: The Holy Sword of the Star
"That is correct; it is I who shall personally correct your arrogance," he said.
The battle unfolded.
They fought for several days.
Facing the one who could freely change his form, Gilgamesh exhausted all his strength.
"Absurd—a mere lump of clay, daring to stand on equal footing with me!"
For the first time encountering an opponent of equal standing, Gilgamesh let out a cry that was uncertain whether it was born of surprise or anger.
Treasures, chains—they exhausted every means at their disposal, but in the end, neither could gain the upper hand over the other.
Exhausted, the two lay on the ground, quietly looking at the azure sky. White clouds drifted by, blocking the sunlight, allowing shadows to float across the wilderness on the ground from time to time.
"Using up those treasures, do you not feel a sense of regret?"
He asked.
"What of it? If the opponent is worth it, throwing them all away is of no consequence."
Gilgamesh said, his voice filled with brightness and exhilaration.
From that day on, they remained companions.
Time passed in the blink of an eye, fleeting as a white colt flashing past a crack.
"Ever since you came, my treasures have had no place to settle. It seems like a quirk has taken root in my mind: throwing away my treasures as weapons..."
Just as before, Gilgamesh still had the hobby of collecting treasures, but occasionally he would throw them out in the same manner as when he fought Enkidu, eventually turning it into a habit that was hard to correct.
To Gilgamesh's complaints, Enkidu would only laugh heartily, saying, "It seems this is one of my few accomplishments."
"Hmph, what kind of accomplishment is that."
Gilgamesh retorted.
After that, they went together to crusade against the demonic beast known as Humbaba.
Enkidu did not understand why they had to do this.
It was not a command issued by the gods, nor should it have been for the sake of the sentient beings of Uruk.
"No, this is for Uruk."
Gilgamesh said it lightly.
"If I do not drive away all the evil here, the people will die of hunger."
"Why is that?"
Enkidu pursued the question.
Even though he oppressed the people of Uruk with tyranny, making them suffer—why care for the subjects?
"Why be so surprised? I was born as the protector of humanity."
Gilgamesh raised his head.
"Building up the civilization and future of this planet is the duty of a King."
As the King spoke these words, his gaze fixed on the far distance.
"There are different types of protection. Protecting blindly does not count as guardianship; sometimes, a biting north wind is also necessary."
After hearing these words, Enkidu understood him.
"I see. You will always persist in walking the path you have chosen."
As if shy, Gilgamesh laughed.
It was a smile as natural as a breeze, the kind occasionally seen on the face of the youth he once was.
Looking at the King, Enkidu finally understood why he always chose to be alone.
Because the path he had chosen could only be walked by him alone.
Gilgamesh wanted to protect things he saw from the distant future.
For this, he hated the gods; for this, he despised humanity.
Thus, he could only be an isolated existence.
The more he wanted humanity to have a beautiful future, the more he loved humanity, and the further he grew from all human beings.
He was both the judge and the harvester.
A King only needs the result.
And the "brilliant process" that birthed this result was something the King—who stood above humanity—could not intervene in.
Understanding such a King, Enkidu could no longer suppress his emotions and said to him:
"I am but a tool, something useless to your judgment. Yet even so, I have been able to remain by your side until the end of the world..."
"Fool!" Gilgamesh said, turning his face away. "It is enough that you have value to this King."
Watching the King's display, Enkidu could not help but cover his mouth and chuckle.
"Yes, yes, I shall leave it as you wish, since that is what you think."
Because of the King's words, Enkidu felt that for the first time, truly, he possessed a "self."
However, such happy times could not last long.
Until Gilgamesh repelled the Bull of Heaven, the dark clouds covering the entire world dissipated, and the earth was spared from destruction by the flood—but the gods rained down divine punishment upon the 'Chain' that had betrayed them.
The King, with all his might, held tightly to the crumbling lump of clay, holding his one and only friend.
"Unforgivable... Unforgivable...! Why must you die! If it is divine punishment, you should punish me alone! You should have punished me! Is not all of this my own unreasonable doing!!"
The sky also seemed to respond to the King's mood and began to weep.
"Please do not be sad. I am but a weapon—a weapon among your countless treasures. In the future, there will surely be many more treasures far superior to me. Therefore, I... have no reason or value to make you shed tears."
Enkidu felt from the bottom of his heart that they were different.
Gilgamesh was a hero.
A hero created as a child of the gods, yet one who constantly rebelled against them.
The King had possessed his own soul from the very beginning.
He had possessed his own will since the moment of his birth.
The King was different from him; a true life.
Unlike a consumable item like him, he was a brilliant star of true value.
"I... have always longed for... hated you like this... Why were we both created by the same father, yet our lives were so fundamentally different..."
Looking at his friend, whose trembling hand reached out to stroke his cheek, Gilgamesh shouted:
"No, you have value! You are the only value! I swear here: in this world, I shall have only one dearest friend forever! Only one! This value will never change for all eternity, for ages upon ages!!"
In the King's eyes, crystal tears shimmered, though no one knew when they had appeared.
"Walking together, talking together, fighting together... this is not called being human, nor is it being a tool—it is called friendship, Enkidu."
"Ah... is that so..."
With a smile of relief, Enkidu turned into dust, dissipating into the world with a gust of wind.
From then on, 'loneliness' returned to the King's side.
"Honestly, why am I thinking about these things at a time like this..."
Light entered his eyes slightly; Gilgamesh pressed his fingertips gently against his eyelids.
In the distant sky, a ray of light seemed to appear.
It was the light of a star, one that even the gods would have to cast their eyes away from, unable to face.
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A brilliance as dazzling as the stars was manifesting in the firmament.
In Shirou's right hand appeared a holy sword radiating an brilliant, golden light.
This was the initial and final form of the star-forged holy sword, the shining holy sword that saves the planet—the true form of the holy sword, forged solely to defeat the enemy that destroys the planet, capable of repelling all foes.
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