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"Hahaha! You see?! You see?! My power is superior to yours!"
Diodora's laughter echoed through the forest, hysterical and desperate, yet overflowing with relief.
The barrier held.
The emerald shield surrounding him shimmered with layered demonic formulas — thick, reinforced, desperate defenses stacked one over another like a terrified child piling furniture against a door.
And for a moment…
He believed he had survived.
Gilgamesh said nothing.
He simply stared.
No frustration.
No surprise.
Just quiet evaluation.
Then his hand moved.
The silver sword dissolved into particles of golden light, scattering like dust before fading completely. His gaze shifted inward — toward the infinite treasury beyond reality.
[Gate of Babylon].
He searched.
Not for power.
But for the correct answer.
Golden ripples opened beside him.
A new weapon emerged.
At first, it appeared only as a slender extension of golden aura — longer than his sword, thinner, sharper. The light compressed, condensed, and finally solidified.
The glow faded.
A crimson spear remained.
Two meters long.
Elegant.
Deadly.
Not a weapon of brute force.
A weapon of certainty.
The spear of the Knight of Fianna.
Ge Dearg — The Crimson Rose of Exorcism.
A spear that rejected magical constructs.
A spear that denied projections.
A spear that invalidated defenses born from mana.
Gilgamesh grasped it without hesitation.
His posture shifted — subtle, controlled — imitating the stance of its original wielder.
Then he thrust.
No flourish.
No declaration.
Just inevitability.
The barrier split.
Not shattered.
Not resisted.
Simply separated, like butter yielding beneath heat.
The spear continued forward.
Diodora's scream hadn't even begun before it happened.
His hands left his body.
They fell.
Wet.
Heavy.
The forest floor absorbed the sound.
Blood followed.
A delay passed.
Shock always arrived before pain.
Diodora stared at the empty space where his hands had existed.
Then—
"MY ARMS! MY ARMS! MY ARMS!"
His voice tore itself apart.
He stumbled backward, mind rejecting reality, eyes locked on the fountains of red pouring from his body.
Gilgamesh stepped forward.
"Another."
SWOOSH — STAB.
A blade pierced his abdomen.
Pain exploded.
Not ordinary pain.
Not something nerves could process.
It felt like his insides were melting, dissolving, boiling beneath invisible fire.
Diodora collapsed, choking on blood as it flooded his throat.
His vision swam.
A sword pinned him to the earth.
A holy sword.
Smaller than the grand weapons of legend — yet unbearably lethal.
Sacred light radiated from it like poison tailored for his existence.
Horror swallowed him.
"How does it feel, devil?" Gilgamesh asked, approaching slowly.
His voice was calm.
Almost curious.
"The sensation of sacred light inside your body… unpleasant, isn't it?"
A smile touched his lips.
"You've never experienced this before. I can tell."
Diodora tried to speak.
Only a scream emerged.
Another strike followed.
His legs separated.
But unlike his arms—
The pain burned.
Holy energy devoured flesh and existence simultaneously.
The severed limbs smoked, dissolving as though reality itself rejected them.
Gilgamesh watched without emotion.
He lifted one of the detached legs.
Displayed it.
"This is your leg," he said conversationally. "I removed it."
His tone carried no cruelty.
That made it worse.
"When humans die, they go somewhere. Heaven. Hell. Purgatory. Perhaps reincarnation."
He raised the holy blade.
"For devils… the outcome is less forgiving."
The sword descended.
The limb vanished into ashless nothing.
"Sacred energy doesn't merely injure devils," Gilgamesh continued quietly.
"It erases."
He looked directly into Diodora's trembling eyes.
"No body. No soul. No memory."
Silence fell.
"Do you understand what that means?"
Diodora's terror surpassed pain.
He wasn't dying.
He was being deleted.
"N-no… I—I'm the brother of a Maou! You can't—"
"You scheduled your engagement during the exorcist's arrival," Gilgamesh interrupted calmly.
"You expected your pawns to win."
Diodora froze.
"The exorcist is Cardinal Deacon Ewald Cristaldi."
Hope died.
"He has defeated Ultimate-class devils. Your followers cannot stop him."
Gilgamesh's smile sharpened.
"And the best part?"
His voice lowered.
"They are ex-nuns. They will be captured. Interrogated. And they will speak."
Diodora's breathing broke.
"They will reveal how you infiltrated Church territory. How you corrupted Holy Maidens."
Reality collapsed around him.
"There will be no protection," Gilgamesh continued.
"No political shield. No mercy."
He leaned closer.
"You will vanish here — erased — while the world learns what you did."
The smile returned.
Gentle.
Terrifying.
"Isn't it wonderful?"
Diodora trembled violently.
His arrogance evaporated.
"N-no… please… please…"
Tears blurred his vision.
Begging replaced pride.
Gilgamesh did not respond.
His gaze remained cold.
"Know despair, Diodora."
His voice carried no anger.
Only judgment.
"The despair you gifted those girls."
He paused.
"Feel it."
"Because what awaits you… is worse."
The forest grew silent.
And for the first time in his life—
Diodora understood what it meant…
To be powerless.
To be forgotten.
To become nothing.