In the blink of an eye, the old man's hand shot forward, touching Bruno and Diana's lifeless forms. Their essence—their very souls—were pulled from their bodies, leaving behind nothing but husks. The air thickened with the force of their sacrifice, as the old man devoured their spirits, their very existence fading into his being.
Grey screamed, his voice raw and broken, feeling the weight of their loss. The pain was unbearable, the crushing weight of their lives.
The old man's grin grew wider. He turned to Bruno's lifeless body, which was slowly being consumed, his yellow eyes gleaming. "Now, you have what you wanted. Their souls are mine. Your essence... mine. You're just a shell now, child."The Old man's hand stretched forth, a yellow energy surrounding Bruno. Their eyes, being pulled out from their sockets —Bruno's golden, Diana's brilliant blue—flashed with life one final time. The old man, with a flick of his hand, pulled both eyes from their lifeless bodies. He then turned back as Bruno and Diana's eyeballs floated around him.
*****
The world had fractured, its very foundation shaking under the weight of an ancient chaos unleashed. The sky, once a familiar blue, had turned to a swirling purple vortex, a rift from which monsters poured like floodwaters. Beneath the storm, the earth cracked and buckled, its surface scarred with the violent tremors of destruction. The remains of the fallen—heroes, civilians, and creatures alike—littered the battlefield, their blood mingling with the dirt, their final screams hanging in the air like a distant echo. The battle was over, but the war had only just begun.
Grey stood amid the devastation, clutching the twin children tightly to his chest. His heart was heavy with sorrow, but there was a stirring within him—a dark, unstoppable force that came with the weight of Bruno and Diana's sacrifice. They were gone, erased from existence itself. No longer could anyone recall their names, their deeds, or the lives they had led. The very essence of who they were had been stolen, consumed in the wake of their final choice. Their existence was a mere whisper in the wind, fading from memory and history, erased from past, present, and future.
The world felt like it was collapsing in on itself, but amidst the chaos, an unsettling calmness washed over Grey. His mind, a storm of grief and confusion, was suddenly pierced by an unexpected presence.
A flicker in the air.
And then, a figure appeared.
The old man stepped from the shadows, his form an unsettling blend of age and power. His hair, white as snow, flowed behind him like a stream of light. His body, though frail and ancient, seemed to carry the weight of the centuries with ease. His eyes glowed a piercing yellow, deep with the wisdom of aeons, yet holding an unnerving gleam. The very air around him felt as if it bent to his presence, the ground beneath his feet quivering in reverence.
His form was both real and ethereal, his outline indistinct, as though the shadows themselves embraced him. He was a figure born of myth and legend, a king who had stood at the pinnacle of power, and a being who had been forgotten by time itself. His gaze settled on Grey, and the children he held, and the old man sighed, as if amused by the scene before him.
"Quite the mess you've found yourself in, young one," the old man said, his voice rich with ancient amusement. He didn't seem to care that the world was burning. His voice, though cracked with age, had a resonance that could command armies and still the very heavens themselves. "Chaos, destruction, and yet, you stand here, clutching the star of calamity like a fragile hope. How quaint."
Grey narrowed his eyes, still unsure of what this man was or what he wanted. The old man's aura was unmistakable—there was power in every word he spoke, in every movement. He felt as though the ground itself quivered beneath the weight of his presence. This was no ordinary figure.
"Who are you?" Grey demanded, his voice steady, but his heart racing. "What do you want from me?"
The old man grinned, a sly, knowing smile curling at the corner of his lips. "Want?" He chuckled softly, as if the concept of wanting was beneath him. "I do not want. I take what I am owed. But I suppose you want to know my name. The question is, can you even grasp it?"
He stepped forward, his movements slow and deliberate, as though he had all the time in the world. "I am the immortal king. The god of unfound riches, King of Ashura. I hold the Grail—the artifact of ultimate power, the key to life and death itself. I have lived through countless ages, seen empires rise and fall, and I have come to know things that no mortal could ever comprehend. I have been to the ends of the earth and beyond, and nothing has ever truly posed a threat to me."
Grey's mind raced, trying to piece together the words, but they came too quickly, too grandly for him to fully grasp. The name lingered on the tip of his tongue, but it remained elusive, buried under layers of myth and legend.
The old man's eyes glinted with a sharp, almost mocking gleam. "You've heard of me, haven't you? Gilgamesh—the name that echoes through the halls of time. The one who defied the gods and lived to regret it. The one who sought immortality and found only the ruin of his own desires. But you, Grey… you, like so many others before you, are about to face a choice."
There it was. The name, spoken with such familiarity that it felt like an old ghost walking back into the world. Gilgamesh. The name reverberated in Grey's mind, stirring echoes of forgotten stories.
"Gilgamesh," Grey muttered, the name tasting both ancient and powerful. The stories spoke of a king who had ruled beyond the bounds of mortality, who had sought the ultimate treasures of the gods, and who had paid the price for his arrogance.
Gilgamesh smiled, a flash of something darker in his eyes. "Yes. That is the name they call me. The name that once struck fear into the hearts of gods and mortals alike. The name of a king who once ruled all things, but who was eventually cast down, imprisoned in the abyss, where no one would find him again."
His expression softened slightly, a rare vulnerability slipping through his usually confident demeanor. "But you see, Grey… I respect Bruno. He was a king in his own right. He fought with the strength of a thousand warriors, and though his heart was tempered by compassion, he did not shy from battle when it was required. And Diana, she was no mere woman. She was a force, a protector of her people, a queen in her own right. I saw it in them both. Strength, courage, and an unyielding will to protect what they loved."
Grey's heart twisted, his gaze falling to the lifeless body of Diana, her essence now entwined with his own. The weight of her sacrifice—of Bruno's—hung heavily on him, but the old man's words cut through his grief like a knife. There was power in what he said, a truth that carried with it a strange resonance.
"I know they are gone," Gilgamesh continued, his voice lowering. "Erased from existence, from time itself. Not merely lost, but erased. Their very essence, taken. Gone from history, from memory, from the future. To erase a soul, to make it as though they never were… that is a price not many are willing to pay. But you, Grey… you carry their essence now. In you, they live. Their eyes—Bruno's yellow and Diana's blue—are now part of you."
Grey's heart ached as he thought of them. The eyes, the memories, the power. It was all too much. And yet, there was no turning back.
Gilgamesh's expression darkened. "But as for me, I cannot hold back Chaos any longer. Not without my true form. My body, imprisoned in the abyss. I've been bound by chains of time, by the gods themselves, but now... now, I am free to offer you a choice."
The wind picked up, howling like a beast in pain, the storm swirling around them. The land groaned as if it, too, could feel the weight of the decision hanging in the air. Gilgamesh's eyes gleamed brightly as he locked his gaze with Grey's.
"You have time, Grey. Enough time to decide. Will you save the children? Will you choose to carry on the legacy of those who sacrificed everything for you?" He paused, his smile sly, almost conspiratorial. He then placed his finger on Grey's forehead, causing a burning sensation within his eyes, and molten, gold tears began to drip from his eyes as his eyes began to morph from his dark brown, rotating with many colours. Memories flashed into his mind, Yes-- I remember now, Bruno...Diana.. He then looked up to see two glowing balls- One blue and the other gold-- close to his eyeballs. They slowly sank into his eyesockets, causing Grey to scream with pain.
The transformation was agonizing. The light from their eyes surged through him, merging with his own soul, and with it came their power—their memories, their pain, their strength. The air hummed with an overwhelming energy, and Grey collapsed to the ground, his body wracked with the intensity of the change. His body burned with the essence of three souls—his own, and theirs. He could feel it in every fiber of his being.
His golden eyes, now the color of fire, flickered open. And Diana's piercing blue gaze, now his own, stared out from the reflection in the shattered ground before him. He stood, trembling, feeling their weight in his bones.
The old man watched with dark amusement, his voice a low, mocking murmur. "Now you carry them within you. How fitting. You're the last hope—and the last curse."
As Grey struggled to his feet, the weight of his bargain sinking in, the old man disappeared into the chaos, leaving behind only the echo of his laughter—a sound that chilled the very marrow in Grey's bones.
The battle wasn't over. Not by a long shot.
But as Grey looked down at the children in his arms, he knew one thing for sure. The future was no longer his own to decide.
"But know this—you will never be the same again. And even if you choose to save the children… You will never, ever be able to escape the fate of those who harbour the star."
Gilgamesh's form flickered, his body slowly starting to fade into the shadows. His voice, a soft murmur, carried on the wind.
And with that, Gilgamesh was gone, leaving only the howling winds and the weight of the choice that lay ahead.
Grey stood alone amidst the ruins, the child in his arms, the essence of Bruno and Diana coursing through him. The storm raged, the earth trembled, and the future—his future—remained uncertain. But one thing was clear: the path ahead would lead him into the very heart of darkness, and no matter what choice he made, it would shape the fate of everything.