What a downpour.
In the Divine Tower of the royal palace, Gilgamesh stepped up to the railing, gazing out at the sheets of rain connecting heaven and earth and the thunder weaving through the sky. He felt a faint irritation welling within him.
Ever since that night—when his dearest friend died in his arms beneath a storm like this—he had come to loathe such weather.
"I heard that drinking helps with sleep. Since we're about to rest anyway, why don't we share a few drinks?"
At some point, Merlin had appeared behind him, smacking his lips as he smiled and offered the suggestion.
The heavy mood in Gilgamesh's chest was broken for a moment. He turned, his brow loosening slightly, and let out a small huff, half-laughing, half-scolding.
"Sleep aid? You shameless fool—you're obviously eyeing my fine wine again!"
"Haha, can't fool you. As your wisdom sees through all, I figured with this rain, I'd just stay here and coax a cup or two from you."
Merlin smiled, freely admitting his intentions. Leaning on his staff, he gave a graceful Britannian court bow, formally extending an invitation to Gilgamesh.
The King of Heroes, long familiar with this Grand Caster's antics, found himself in a rare good mood. He made no objection, sitting down at the table with Merlin and casually retrieving a treasured vintage from the golden vortex.
At his command, the guards stationed outside the tower brought in some small dishes to accompany the wine. Then, understanding the mood, they quietly shut the doors of the Divine Tower and withdrew.
The seasoned drunkard from Britannia rubbed his hands in delight. As soon as the golden nectar filled their cups, he wasted no time, lifting his glass and taking a satisfied sip.
"Ah! This is what it means to live!"
The Incubus sighed in delight, admiring the intricate patterns on the golden goblet with his fox-like eyes, though his expression carried a hint of regret.
"Shame it's not bigger. Honestly, if I could borrow your Holy Grail, I'd love to try a real drink from that."
Across from him, Gilgamesh slowly rotated the cup in his hand, lifting his gaze to Merlin, a frown forming between his brows.
"Hmph! What I hate most is that cryptic way you speak!"
"And that damned aloof attitude of yours—always acting like a bystander, never saying what you really mean, always leaving others to guess—it's infuriating."
"If I didn't still have a use for you, I'd have beheaded you right now and called it entertainment to go with my wine!"
Merlin scratched his nose, eyes dodging, mumbling awkwardly.
"Hey, I'm just trying to stay out of trouble and stay alive. If I didn't, I'd have been long gone, wouldn't I?"
After a short pause, Gilgamesh, who knew the Caster inside and out, swirled the wine in his cup and gave him a look of disdain.
"So, that boy's won the favor of the Three Goddesses and become a Shepherd Priest. What of it?"
"Give him the Holy Grail? Fine."
"Let him wield authority and amass influence? So what?"
"Hmph! Do you think I lack the tolerance to allow it?"
Merlin dropped his playful façade slightly, his gaze resting on the gleaming liquid in his cup, expression layered with implication.
"But his identity... isn't just about divine favor."
"We were all wrong. Seems the failure of Clairvoyance this time wasn't a coincidence—it's because of him."
"The Mandate of Heaven... fate itself..."
"When that's involved, we must tread carefully."
His voice sank low as he spoke, tone growing heavier, the light in his eyes dimming.
He knew that power all too well.
If the Three Goddess Alliance was a visible force—a blade, lightning, and tyranny—cruel and domineering but still something that could be fought...
Then the Mandate of Heaven was the unseen noose tightening around one's throat. Unseeable. Untouchable. Yet it choked the breath from your lungs, one slow squeeze at a time.
That powerless suffocation... that creeping terror... it was the stuff of nightmares.
Just like when the Mystery of Britannia had faded. He had tried everything, but he couldn't stop it.
In the end, under the overwhelming decree of destiny, all he could do was retreat into the Inner Sea of the Planet and watch Artoria—his once-beloved daughter figure—walk toward her end atop the Hill of Swords.
At their level, some things weren't a matter of will. It was a matter of impossibility.
"Ha, the Mandate of Heaven?"
"If that damned thing plans to wipe out my Uruk, then let it! How much worse could it get?"
"If it's so mighty, let those mongrels come!"
Gilgamesh downed his drink in one gulp, sneering coldly, proud and defiant.
"So you've made up your mind. No point trying to talk you out of it. Another round, then."
Merlin shrugged, then slid the cup across the table.
The wise king rolled his eyes. He had a strong suspicion that the second half of that sentence had been the real point all along—that this drunkard just wanted more wine.
The seasoned Britannian lush skillfully sniffed, sipped, and tasted in one smooth motion before setting his cup down with a smirk and asking casually:
"By the way, don't you think giving that kid so much authority is a bit... risky?"
Gilgamesh didn't flinch. Resting his chin on his right hand, he met the question with a look of unshakable pride.
"He's already a Shepherd Priest, and I have no heir. If he really has what it takes to lead Uruk through this storm, then what's wrong with entrusting the future to that boy?"
"I didn't mishear that, did I? You're serious?"
Merlin patted his chest, still a bit rattled, visibly caught off guard.
"Intelligence from the Babylonian ruins, the northern wall's defense, keeping Ishtar in check, dismantling the Three Goddess Alliance… I hate to admit it, but he even ended up saving me too."
"With contributions like that, forget just giving him the Holy Grail—give him expanded authority."
"Even if I had him sit beside me, sharing the throne as one of Uruk's Twin Kings, jointly ruling the kingdom—so what?"
"And if you're asking, yes, even you—if you had the ability—I'd be willing to relinquish power!"
Gilgamesh cast a sidelong glance at Merlin, full of disdain and absolute resolve.
The white-haired Incubus was momentarily stunned. When he came back to himself, he gave a wry chuckle and knocked his knuckles against his own temple.
"Now I get it. Why you people have the bearing of kings... and I'm just a lazy court Magus biding time until I rot."
To put it bluntly, it was vision, strategy, and courage—that's what separated a wise man from a wise king.
"You, your biggest flaw is your laziness. There's not a word out of your mouth that can be trusted. If you were more dependable, maybe I wouldn't have to work so hard."
Realizing his earlier proposal to shift responsibility and power had been smoothly dodged by this old trickster, Gilgamesh frowned and let out a short snort. But he didn't press the point any further.
If he couldn't even face the looming issues in Britannia's future, then expecting this man to shoulder responsibility was laughable. He'd be better off figuring out how to get a pig to climb a tree.
After three rounds of wine and five platters of food, a question suddenly came to Merlin's mind.
"Say, can your Clairvoyance still see your own future clearly?"
Gilgamesh gave a slight shake of his head, though his face looked more at ease than before.
"Same here. Even the future of Britannia and its fading Mystery is becoming murky... slipping into chaos."
Merlin paused, cheeks slightly flushed, a faint sense of nostalgia and unease flickering in his eyes.
"Then, what about the future of that wise king of Israel? How much can you see?"
The three of them each possessed Clairvoyance.
One was the beginning of the Mystery that sustained mankind.
One symbolized its prosperity.
And the last marked its inevitable decline.
Beginning, peak, and end...
Merlin's long-stilled heart suddenly began to pound, his head warm with anticipation. He couldn't help but wonder—was the central pillar just as obscured?
"It's still there... but there seems to be a subtle difference."
Gilgamesh turned his wine glass, expression tinged with playful curiosity.