A hail of weapons rained down—spears and halberds like a forest, swords like a storm. Rogers dove and rolled, body low and taut, moving like a dancer on the edge of a blade as he tried to survive the murderous barrage.
Three more Noble Phantasms descended, cutting off every escape route. The Captain repeated the only tactic he had: crouching low, shield raised. A sharp clang echoed through the air, followed by a low groan of pain.
A golden chain lashed out from a rippling wall of light. Its end twisted into a jagged triangular spike that punched cleanly through Captain America's thigh.
The chain snapped tight, dragging him across the ground toward Gilgamesh.
"Why didn't we shoot your legs before?" Gilgamesh laughed, genuine confusion from his past life now sharpened into mockery.
Against machine-gun fire, Rogers always protected his torso with the shield—but somehow, inexplicably, his legs had always escaped unscathed.
"I thought you could go toe-to-toe with anyone."
More blades unfolded from the luminous wall. Gilgamesh gazed down from above, eyes cold and cruel. "Are you ready to die, you pathetic worm?"
A trident shot forward like a launched missile, streaking straight for Captain America's eye.
The instant before impact, a hand caught it.
Thor.
"I tire of your arrogance." His glare froze the air, blue lightning simmering in his eyes.
Gilgamesh's expression tightened. So the sight of his comrades' blood could rouse him after all—maybe even awaken him early. From mere Mjolnir Thor to Storm Thor.
The idea flickered in his mind, but his face remained still. His voice, though, dropped in temperature like a winter gale. "So, dear brother… you finally choose rebellion?"
"Without your hammer, what are you?"
"Come find out." Thor spun the trident in his grip, fury trembling in every line of his body.
Gilgamesh frowned. Ea dissolved into drifting golden fragments. He hopped down from the statue and yanked a crimson spear from the earth—the Red Rose of Spellbreaker, Diarmuid's cursed weapon that severed magical defenses.
"These mortals aren't worth the effort." He held the spear upside down, gaze razor-sharp. "But you, brother… a god. You earn my respect."
Both stepped into position, the air tightening around them. A duel between gods—between brothers. A fight that would shape their fates.
The wind brushed past. Every onlooker held their breath.
Thor roared, leaping high, trident raised, bringing it down with the weight of a falling mountain.
The clash rang like a bell, sparks bursting at their feet.
Gilgamesh braced the spellbreaking spear like a shield, redirecting the blow and sweeping low with the spear's butt, aiming to shatter Thor's legs.
Thor recognized the danger and sprang back, meeting the strike with the heel of his trident. But the force behind Gilgamesh's blow was overwhelming, nearly knocking him off his feet. He staggered, breath catching.
"What a disappointment. Sif could fight a hundred times better."
Gilgamesh didn't press the advantage. His attack paused, but the disappointment in his voice cut deeper than any weapon.
Thor glared at him, fury blazing in his eyes. Sif was one of his finest warriors—brave, lethal, and unwavering. Her being a woman had nothing to do with her strength. Yet Gilgamesh's words had clearly been meant as an insult, implying Thor was beneath even her.
"I'll make you pay for that."
Thor lunged forward, his trident flashing like a serpent striking from its den. The blade gleamed coldly. Gilgamesh raised his spear, the Demon-Slaying Crimson Rose, deflecting the strike with a sharp twist that sent the trident off course. But Thor wasn't finished. In a heartbeat, he swung from the side with crushing force.
Gilgamesh caught the blow, then used the locked moment to kick Thor back. "How about we play a game?"
He twirled his spear lazily and pointed it at Captain America. "Every round you lose, I stab him once. Let's see who breaks first—you or your friend."
"You've already lost two rounds. That's two strikes."
Before Thor could speak, Gilgamesh thrust twice—lightning-fast—driving the spearpoint into Captain America's shoulder and waist.
Captain America: ???
Thor's eyes reddened as arcs of electricity crackled over his body.
"You monster!"
"Is that any way to talk to your dear brother? Round three starts now."
Gilgamesh moved first. His crimson spear surged forward like a sea-dragon erupting from the deep. Thor lifted his trident to block, but the spear shifted mid-line, slipping past his guard.
As the tip neared his heart, Thor panicked. A faint heat stirred inside him—an answering spark. Electricity leapt across his trident, forming a magnetic pull that yanked the Crimson Rose toward it.
"You can do that?"
For the first time, surprise flickered across Gilgamesh's face. Electricity could create magnetism, yes—but not usually at such a critical, perfectly timed moment.
Still, it wasn't enough to stop him. He flicked his spear, and the Crimson Rose snapped free of the magnetic force.
His attack, however, was spent. Thor had already recovered.
"Not bad," Gilgamesh said, amusement dancing in his eyes. "You've finally become a little interesting. Keep going." He shot Captain America a meaningful glance, the threat unmistakable.
Thor's jaw tightened. That heat he'd felt—he knew it meant something. All his life he'd believed his power came from Mjolnir. Now he realized that was wrong. Lightning wasn't gifted by the hammer. It was born within him. Mjolnir was only a conduit.
"I have to grasp it… this is the key to defeating him."
He muttered the words, trying desperately to recapture that sensation. But something was missing—a final step he couldn't bridge.
Gilgamesh noticed and chuckled to himself. "You'll never get there on your own. Allow me to assist."
He moved with only a fraction of his real strength. Three blossoms of red spear-light bloomed instantly—one piercing Thor's left shoulder, one his right, and one striking the center of his forehead.