“Uncle.” Gilgamesh greeted plainly.

  “You did well to survive this long. It must not have been easy.” Shamash spoke with little emotion or urgency, to the point that one would almost suspect he did not care for the world. Though Gilgamesh knew that was just how he was.

  “Accompany me for a while.” Shamash said as he calmly walked off. “It will be beneficial for you.”

  Gilgamesh watched him for a moment, then followed after. He was not close with his uncle, but he bore him no hatred. And he was to be the mentor for his journey.

  Shamash led him towards the arena where they appeared in the stands. Gilgamesh waited for something significant to happen, but Shamash merely watched the duels below without a word. Gilgamesh looked down as well to find a purpose within them, but few held any of his interest and none seemed significant.

  “What is the point of this?” Gilgamesh asked.

  “Not everything has to have meaning.” Shamash replied.

  Gilgamesh waited for something more but Shamash said nothing else. He simply watched the duels below with little enthusiasm. Gilgamesh felt he would gain nothing from pressing the issue, so he waited and watched.

  Time passed and still nothing of significance happened, but then Gilgamesh saw someone he recognized. Someone he had forgotten about in recent days.

  One of the gladiators was a short old man with a long whisker-like mustache dressed in the silk robes of a monk and a crowned cap, his expression one of restrained annoyance. Opposite him stood a tall wiry old man with wrinkled skin. His white hair was neatly combed back but his long, thin, bristly beard was unkempt in comparison.

  [ Shen Feng vs Koga Genjiro ]

  “Koga…” Gilgamesh mused. With his intellect for war, he had assumed him to be a Shen. Though at this stage, he supposed it was no longer a surprise for commoners to be exceptional.

  “Someone you know?” Shamash asked.

  “I’ve encountered him before.” Gilgamesh gave a vague answer and Shamash did not inquire further.

  “This isn’t one of our games. I suggest you yield.” Feng curtly advised.

  Genjiro gave a mischievous smile in return. “You haven’t changed a bit, my old friend.”

  The Puppet Emperor raised his arms, and the two warlords raised an army. Humanoid figures emerged from nothing, their forms like shadows. Their attire seemed half house servant, half common infantryman, though none held any weaponry, and their faces were featureless aside from two glowing eyes.

  [ Shadow Servant ]

  20 had risen on Feng’s side and 17 on Genjiro’s at the same time, and at the same time again, they both let out an invigorating yell.

  [ Rally ]

  Strength rose in the meager shadows, and they flung into action at the two heroes’ direction. Feng arranged his into four rows of five and had them advance immediately as he kept pace close behind.

  Genjiro arranged his into four groups of four with one to spare and had them all attack the charging rows from odd angles. Each Shadow Servant swung their fists with only the slightest of skill and their power only rivaled that of the average hero, but their durability was much more lacking. It took only a single clean hit to burst one back into fleeting wisps.

  Some of Genjiro’s soldiers broke off from the main brawl to aim for Feng, but Feng reacted quickly. He pulled some of his own soldiers back from the shield line to defend him, and then he arranged them all into a square formation around himself.

  The four lines of shadow servants fended off the roaming attackers from all directions. Not only did they withstand the assault, but they struck back in return.

  “They both fight like summoners. Or rather, more like commanders of war.” Gilgamesh thought. He also took note that nothing in the small battle seemed to evade their notice, as if they had a clean view of everything. “They must both have Vantage Point.”

  With the poor durability of the shadows, the battle had developed quickly, and Genjiro had gotten the worst of it. His army had dwindled to 11 while Feng still had 16. The old Shen man’s formation had diminished to just four on each side.

  Suddenly, Genjiro swept up all his Shadow Servants into a flanking charge and struck from the side in a tight wedge formation. And Feng made his own move.

  He formed his defensive square formation into a wedge of his own and crashed them into Genjiro’s army to cause a stalemate. And at the same time, he summoned 4 more shadow servants to charge towards his old rival.

  At the sight of the approaching enemy, Genjiro only grinned. He too summoned more servants, five in total, and gave them a rallying cry.

  “Madman!” Feng snapped through his shock.

  He knew better than anyone else the costs of their war. For a commoner like Genjiro to exceed his mana capacity, he must have put nearly everything he had acquired into Spirit. And that was far too reckless a strategy.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Genjiro’s new soldiers quickly destroyed Feng’s own and launched into a charge. Feng pulled some of his soldiers back to stop them, but Genjiro used that opening to make a second push against the enemy ranks with his main army.

  The numbers of both sides had become almost equal now, with Genjiro’s 8 to Feng’s 10. Though to his prowess, Feng did not crumble. He countered the flanking assault with a retreating defensive formation to reform his ranks. He still held the upper hand in numbers, and if he could just set the battle again, it would likely flow in his favor.

  And through all of that strategy, a simple arrow pierced Feng’s heart. Feng looked over in disbelief at Genjiro, who now held a bow he had withdrawn from his spatial bag to use at the exact moment that Feng had taken his focus away from him entirely.

  “All that… just to set up this…?” Feng tried to speak his surrender, but he had no strength and fell to the ground, never to move again.

  Genjiro stood tall over his slain rival with a look of dismissive pride natural of a dominant victor. But there was also some sadness at the loss of an old friend, and also a trace of profound dissatisfaction. And then he vanished from the Arena.

  “...my tactics are not at that level yet.” Gilgamesh assessed of himself. Both had displayed a great deal of expertise and prowess in command, but Genjiro proved far superior. From the very beginning, he had envisioned the entire extent of the battle, and conducted it flawlessly.

  Suddenly, the crowd roared loud enough to lure Gilgamesh’s attention. He had recalled a similar thing when he fought Shenwu, but the reaction now was even louder.

  “This is a duel you should watch.” Shamash said. “He is likely the strongest among the Pandava.”

  Gilgamesh looked over to the duel in question. One of the gladiators was a pale-skinned, orange-haired man in a celtic tunic and blue markings tattooed over his body, who seemed eager for the fight to start.

  The other was a man of good height and a lean athletic build. He had the brown skin and long black hair common among the Pandava, along with thin eyes that held an expression of dismissive composure.

  He was shirtless but wore a silk mantle over his shoulders. Golden bands adorned his upper arms and he wore a single bracer on his left forearm. In that same arm appeared a beautiful and radiant bow, far superior in quality to any weapon he had seen thus far.

  “Gandiva.” Shamash revealed. “However much force he can draw is how much it will take, and it will amplify that power a hundredfold. It is among the most powerful of the Pandava Astras.”

  [ Rama Pandava vs Cormac Rhun ]

  The two magi scions faced off, Rama of a composed arrogance and Cormac of a more swaggering kind. The Puppet Emperor raised its arms, and an arrow pierced a hole through Cormac’s chest with the sound of thunder born from its sheer speed.

  Gilgamesh’s eyes sharpened. He did not see the arrow’s flight, not even a wisp in the wind of it. He only saw the lethal devastation it caused after it had already struck.

  Cormac fell, but a second of him stepped out from behind and transformed into a white hare. Rama loosed another thunderous arrow which snapped off the hare’s head, but another formed out from it, and then another from that.

  Rama shot down the rabbits that hopped around the arena at blistering speed, but their duplication was faster than he could draw and aim. And soon the arena was filled with dozens of the creatures.

  Rama darted back from the lunge of one of them and shot it down in turn. Several more followed and he did the same to them with impressive speed and dexterity, but the numbers only grew more and more.

  “Hahahaha!” A chorus of mocking laughter rang out from the hares. “The man who chases two rabbits catches neither! Don’t you know that, Pandava?!”

  Rama’s Strength and Agility surpassed that of each hare such that a single one was no threat to him, but Cormac could simply create more clones faster than he could kill them. At the rate the fight was going, it seemed the Pandava prince would soon be overwhelmed.

  But Rama’s composure did not falter in the slightest, nor did his limbs hasten with urgency. He darted back to the end of the arena with his back against the wall, and a hundred hares bounded for him all at once.

  “Fool.” Rama nocked an arrow and aimed it straight.

  [Twin Shot]

  Rama released to a chorus of thunder, and two hundred arrows showered the sky. In the blink of an eye, all of the hares were shredded apart.

  [ Winner: Rama Pandava ]

  Even in victory, Rama’s expression of self-assured derision did not change. And he vanished from the arena without fanfare.

  Malice simmered within Gilgamesh. Rama was stronger than Shenwu, and he had only beaten that Shen prince in large part due to luck. Even now with the strides he had made, he could not see any possibility of defeating Rama at this moment.

  Shamash eyed Gilgamesh. “What do you think of the prophecy?” He asked without the slightest build-up.

  Gilgamesh looked over in leery thought. “...What do you mean?”

  Shamash held a short silence before he gave his answer. “If this is all truly fated, then you will prevail no matter what you do. There is no need to try so hard nor care so deeply. Why then, do you struggle so painfully?”

  Gilgamesh’s eyes grew more intense at the blunt question that implied his illegitimacy. “I am the rightful hero… no matter who objects to it.”

  “The whole clan objects to it.”

  Gilgamesh’s jaw clenched. “...Those fools only oppose because they think I am undeserving.”

  He placed a firm hand on his chest, despite the pain. “But look how far I have come already. They said I would not awaken but I did. They said I had no talent but I acquired my own. And if I gain enough power, no one will oppose my right.”

  “If you gained such power that none can oppose you, why then do you need the prophecy?” Shamash asked. “If someone were to tell you that you are not the chosen one, you would continue to strive for it regardless. So then, is the Prophecy necessary? Why do you insist on seeking fate when the idea of it so clearly fills you with disdain?”

  “Sophistry.” Gilgamesh discredited Shamash’s words more fervently than normal. “The journey was never said to be easy. Is it not more reasonable that such a grand destiny will require everything the hero has to give and if that is so then am I not right to give everything?”

  “Perhaps.” Shamash acknowledged. “But if that were required, then fate would force your hand whether you were willing or not. Tell me, nephew. Has fate forced all of your actions thus far? Or did you choose some of them on your own volition in preparation for the challenges ahead?”

  Gilgamesh found his response trapped within his throat.

  “It seems to my eyes that you are not rising to meet your fate, but to reach for what you desire in spite of it.”

  Gilgamesh’s jaw clenched more firmly. “Did you bring me here just to irritate-?”

  A roar of the crowd swept away his words, one of jeers and boos. Shamash looked down at the arena grounds and Gilgamesh’s eyes followed.