"Gate of—Babylon."

In an instant the area behind the Hero King light up in a brilliance of golden light. His humoured expression remained constant as he released the treasures of the vault. Twenty, forty, eighty - a swarm of Noble Phantasms deployed from thin air, shining like so many glittering stars. There was no hesitation as he fired them, each weapon firing one at a time in a repetitive fashion. The faker would never stand his full might, why make the battle end so quickly? That mongrel needed to be taught a lesson before he died. The hailstorm kept the faker on his toes, projecting weapons at every conceivable moment he parried what he could, but mere moments into the battle it was clear he was tiring.

"Hah—there is no time to rest!"

This mongrel doesn't even stand a chance! With a click of his fingers a well prepared sword launched, its blow would be the end of the faker, but to the king's entertainment a new sword was projected. The fake blade collided with the king's attack, the sheer force of the two blades meeting sent them both into a hail of metal shards as the faker was launched off his feet.

"What is wrong? Your quality is going down. You cannot even call it a replica if it will break in one blow."

He couldn't help but bust out into laughter, this battle was just so entertaining, the faker could barely handle each attack individually, let alone if the King of Heroes could be bothered to fire them all.

"What? So you're just talk, faker?"

His mocking red eyes pierced into the faker far more deadly than the very weapons he was firing. Hmm? The faker's magic circuits have activated again, oh… His going to try and match me?

"Oh. You've made a lot this time. 10, 15, 17… I see. You reproduced all the Noble Phantasms you can see. Do not take me lightly. What sort of hero would I be if I couldn't see through a magus? I can easily tell how many spells you are working on."

"Then let me grade them.

Well—I will not allow any one of them to stay in this world, no matter how good they may be."

The King raises his hand, in that instant he fires a complete volley to match what the faker had reproduced, playtime was over for this mongrel. The volley's collided cancelling each other out with a display of shrapnel. It was clear the faker could only make one sword at a time while the King had an entire armoury to fire on a whim.

"Haha, you are holding well with your fragile works, but you should not be able to last more than a few more blows. Come on, you need to hurry or you will die. But you sure are foolish.

You know you cannot beat me, so you try to regain the Holy Grail. That decision is correct. You are not even a match for me."

The faker is failing, his circuits are burning out, he only has a few projections left till he is completely spent. Oh, perhaps he would like to see an impossible doom come for him. With that the King went to grab a certain sword, it is something that was born before the appearance of the concept that the world calls a "sword", so it is not something that can truly be called a sword or have the shape of any known blade. The "blade" itself and the tip of the sword, spun in a spiral shape, are dull. It has the shape of a cylindrical, drill-shaped pillar made up of three independently rotating segments engraved with crimson cuneiform lettering that spin slowly in alternating direction like querns, the middle segment spinning clockwise and the top and bottom segments spinning counter clockwise.

"You said you will save the girl, right?"

The king lets out a deathly laugh as the sword roars into life; he smiles as he watches the faker turn pale. He can't project this weapon, it's materials are not of this world.

"Then show me. Show me what you can save with your imitations!"

Without hesitation the sword unleashes a storm of primordial chaos, the very wind it creates blow away the King own weapons as the blast flies towards the faker.

At that very instant the faker pulls of an unexpected move, he launched the sword of separation right into the wind. The sword erupted against the chaotic storm giving him room to breathe, he was lucky the kings weapon wasn't even used at a fraction of its full potential. But such a bold move didn't come without sacrifice; he had burnt most of his magic circuits and was launched off his feet once more by the shockwave.

"So that is all you can manage? I guess a fraud is just a fraud. You cannot save anyone. It would have been more fun if I let Archer live. He was a faker as well, but his ideal was not vulgar.

—Oh. I remember, now that I think about it. He said your ideal is a borrowed one. How conceited of you to think that you can manage anything when you have nothing you created yourself.

A superhero? A world where no one gets hurt? Ridiculous. No world can preserve happiness without harming anyone. Humans cannot live without sacrifices. 'Peace' is a myth created by those who cower in fear of the dark.

—you lowlife. Your ideal is just an excuse to cover up your ugliness."

The king's monologue was over, to his surprise the faker has found the strength to raise to his feet, it's a wonder that he's still alive, let alone able to move.

"Hmm, did you project a shield…? I was reluctant to use that sword, but it should have been fatal.

—You are rather tenacious, boy."

"You were reluctant…? Heh, what's there to hold back when you have so many weapons?"

The faker had replied!? Hah, this entire battle was looking like a Kings speech, but that reply… He would pay for that.

"—Heh. That was a sword that only a ruler is allowed to use. I showed it to you for the fun of it, but it is not something to be used against a lowlife. Saber is the only one allowed to fight against it. I will not be able to face Saber if I sully it on one such as you."

The Gate of Babylon opens again, after seeing his last sword they all looked like third rate scrap even though every single one was of amazing power.

"Oh, are you done with your copying? So you finally understand that it is useless, huh?"

—Then disappear. I will not even leave a piece of your copying brain behind—!"

The armoury is unleashed; the faker doesn't stand a chance against this sheer volume of weapons. But…

In a split second they crash to the floor, blasted away by a golden wind.


Leaping back the King takes the defensive, hand-to-hand combat was foolish, his technique was inferior to one who had mastered a single weapon.

"—Good. Are you all right, Shirou?

Sorry that I am late. I will take over now. Please stay away—"

"No. I can manage Gilgamesh by myself. You're the one to go, Saber."

"W-What are you saying, Shirou…!?

You will fight him in that state of yours? No, a magus cannot match a Servant in the first place. You should know that…!"

"Yeah. But Gilgamesh and I are an exception. Trust me. I'll probably be able to beat him."

"Please hurry to the back, Saber. Tohsaka is stopping the Holy Grail by herself. You're the only one who can destroy it."

There was an air of understanding between the faker and the Saber class servant, Gilgamesh remained silent as he watched them converse, preparing for fighting Saber.

"I don't think that Holy Grail is the on you seek… Go take a good look at it so that you won't make a mistake next time. Ahh… Sorry, I can't put this into words real well. I guess I wasn't fit to be your Master. So—"

"That is not true, Shirou, you are my Master."


Without a word the Saber class servant leaped into the air as quickly as she'd arrived. The faker wears a smile of satisfaction before being interrupted by the Hero King's laughter.

"Fu—haha, hahahahaha!

Are you mad? You are letting go of your only chance of victory so that you can save that girl?

—Idiot. It is a lie to sacrifice yourself. You are a true hypocrite for not being able to realise that.

Yes, I shall praise you for that."

With his smile the Gate of Babylon aimed directly at the faker, a full volley of eighty weapons prepared to destroy him in one single attack.

"…Imitations, faker, huh? Yeah, that doesn't sound too bad. I certainly am a faker."

The faker closes his eyes, what's this? His firing up his magic circuits, most of them should be fried. What is he preparing?

"… I had the wrong idea. My magic isn't creating swords. First of all, I can't do such a skilful thing.

—That's right. There's only one thing I can do, and that is to put shape to my mind."

With that the faker raises his left arm and gives Gilgamesh a disrespectful glare. That's enough to erupt the King's fury.

"—I am the bone of my sword."

"Tch, I am done with hearing your nonsense, mongrel!"

The gate is released; it's not even in the volley, eighty, ninety, over a hundred weapons thunder down. A meter away from the faker a glow of red and pink form out of his arm.

"—Steel is my body, and fire is my blood."


The rain of swords are stopped, they can't penetrate through a single shield?

"—I have created over a thousand blades.

Unaware of loss.

Nor aware of gain."

This shield, it's a giant flower, seven petals stemming from the center. Gilgamesh keeps up the attack, the shield seems to rupture if he hits it enough, the petals break off, but still. He can't break through…

"—Withstood pain to create weapons.

Waiting for one's arrival."

This shield must fall, how can this mongrel even recreate something so strong!?

"—I have no regrets. This is the only path."

Yes, progress is being made! The shield has weakened, the swords take out the final layer, now that mongrel will die!

"—My whole life was 'Unlimited Blade Works'"

The faker's chant is over, fire runs out in every direction, the landscape begins to change, no the entire world has changed. A desolate land surrounding a hill, numerous swords stand at the ready. It's… devoid of life, no wind, no sound, just the endless stretch of reproduced swords.

"…That's right. I don't create swords. I create a world that contains infinite swords.

This is the only magic allowed for Emiya Shirou."

"—Reality Marble. So this is your ability…!"

"There's no need to be surprised, Hero King. These are all imitations. As you say, these are all trifling swords."

The faker reached out and as if a hound returning to his master he nearest sword flew into his grasp.

"But there is no rule that an imitation cannot defeat the original. If you say you are the original, I shall surpass every one of your weapons and destroy your existence.

Here I come, King of Heroes—do you have enough weapons in stock?"

"Hah—you forget your place, mongrel—!"

The Gate opens to its fullest, while the desolate reality marble primes swords ready to counterattack. Without warning they both fired into each other, the weapons ripped themselves to shreds once they collided. The sound was an ear-piercing rupture of clashing metal. But the projections are being created faster than Gilgamesh can fire them! The faker takes a step, forward, and then another, no, he's sprinting towards the king.

"Damn, do not—overestimate yourself, kid—!"

Gilgamesh has no choice but to grasp the nearest sword and engage the faker in hand to hand combat. The Gate of Babylon is useless in this reality marble. The faker collides blades with the King, but then he starts up a furry of attack! Each attack pushes the King back, this isn't a skill the faker could have possibly learnt, could be faking his skills as well?

"Grrr why! Why am I losing to a lowlife's sword!?"

They battle again, Gilgamesh can hardly keep up with Shirou's flurry of attacks, his arms are a blur as they swing furiously from all directions.

"Impossible—am I being cornered by such a sham…!?

—Damn—Damn it, damndamndamn…!

I didn't think I would have to use my sword against a lowlife like you…!"

Gilgamesh drops his blade; he lunges up to the Gate of Babylon to pull out his ultimate weapon.

"I won't let you—!"


In the same instant the faker had projected Archer's swords… Kanshou and Bakuya, in a single swift movement the arm that was going to grab Gilgamesh's sword was cut off. He barely dodges the next swing as he goes into full retreat

"Kuh—you are stronger than me here…!"

He had to escape, he needed to get out of this reality marble, these things only last a minute or so, just stay on the retreat and this mongrel will face his full wrath.


What the, pain, he looked down to his severed arm, a void was appearing.

"No wai—"

In the same movement the void began to take over, the king vanished in a mere second as the reality marble collapsed. Nothing was left on the battlefield besides a spherical black hole and the faker.


The king was being absorbed by the Holy Grail, it was trying to use him as its vessel. What foolishness, besides from it not even being able to, Gilgamesh would never allow for this! No he had to get out, that faker will be the one to do it!


A chain flies out of the black hole wrapping itself around the faker's arm, if the faker wanted to live, he would pull the king out! With that Gilgamesh begins to climb out, his head and remaining arm protrude out of the void as the faker struggles to get the chain off. This chain is capable of holding a God!

"ARGH! Damn it, are you trying to take me with you!?"

"Hah, I have no intention of dying! Stay right there until I pull myself out, you mongrel!"

"—Don't take me so lightly…! I won't let you take me with you…!"

The strain is immense, what would happen first, would Gilgamesh escape or would Shirou's arm rip off. Either way Shirou was going to die.

A light blade skims through the air at amazing speed; the King of Heroes barely had time to react as it promptly lodged itself into his skull. Yelling out in shock and pain he falters slightly, loosening his only lifeline to the world, a chain wrapped around a faker's arm.


With his grip gone the void that is the Holy Grail pulls him in for the second time, his yell echoing as the void shrinks and disappears from the world. He found himself floating around once more in its swirling vortex of hate.

"You foolish curse! A servant can't become your core, release me at once!"

The vortex shuddered at his demand; the Hero King contradicted the vortex's existence once more, the place where entities should never exist. The King was a strange foreign object once more in the mud, but what could they do? The mud was clinging onto its last hope of existence, but it couldn't use the servant it had grabbed. Screeching with the sound of a thousand dying voices it began to crumble, it couldn't exist in a world of pure nothingness and with no core it was doomed. It tried to push itself into the King's mind, but like a feather against rock it failed to penetrate the incredible power of his ego.

"Grrrr, who gave you permission to die here, when I am still here!?"

Fiery spits of anger came from the king as the world he was dragged into began to dissolve, it fractured at its very seams, but the impossible occurred. Light beamed in through the cracks, he could see his own body once more and not a moment later he fell to the floor. Wait, a floor? Tiled slabs of stone sloppily aligned on the floor, sunlight shone over them as he looked at his arms, he had been revitalised once more! The grail had spewed him out in its dying moments, perhaps hoping he would carry out the grails will. What a joke, the King submitted to no one's will. Rising to his feet he summoned his armour ready to destroy those two fakers.


Ryuudouji Temple was… No, where was he? Before him stud a much smaller run-down shrine. It looked warped and somewhat unloved but sat on the edge drinking tea were two very confused looking girls, one with a mixture of red and white clothing, looking somewhat like a Shinto Shrine Maiden, the other could only be described as a witch. Leaping to her feet the blond witch approached the Hero King at a cautious walking pace, a small wooden octagonal box in her hand, pointed at him. Gilgamesh could see the mana stored behind such a device, it rivalled a noble phantasm.

"Reimu, is this one of your friends? He looks mighty pissed off!"

The shrine maiden didn't give a reply as she calmly continued to drink her tea. This was bad, Kotomine was dead, being revitalised once more after that last battle had left Gilgamesh in a mana deprived state. He was going to have to use his tongue to win this.

"Well, who are ya Goldie?"

"If you can't even discern my identity from my presence, you don't deserve to know."


She lowered the box in confusion, that was… easy, He then abused his servant charismatic trait; he needed to ensure his own safety at this moment in time.

"Mage, where is this place?"

"Huh? Gensokyo of cause, this is the Hakurei Shrine."

Gensokyo? Hakurei? The Holy Grail gives servants a vast knowledge of the present era, but these places were a complete mystery to Gilgamesh. While he was pondering what to do the Shrine Maiden finally lowered her tea and yelled back to the witch.

"Marisa, isn't it obvious his not from Gensokyo? You would of known by know if there was a person with golden armour, you would have already tried to steal it."

"Reeiimmuuu! Don't mock me in front of the visitors, ze?"

Gilgamesh's eyebrows couldn't help but rise at what he was seeing; he panned around looking at the woodlands surrounding the shrine. What was this place, the energy it gave off was exuberant.

"Leave him be, he'll probably wonder off and get himself killed."

"Yeah… I can have his armour then!"

What the hell were these mongrels talking about, killing me? The king? Stealing my armour? If he'd been at full strength he wouldn't have hesitated to destroy the Shrine and the two inhabitants from existence! He wouldn't put up with this bombardment of foolishness. Stomping on the ground he did a complete U turn away from the shrine.

"Oh you've pissed him off Reimu!"

Not having a clue where he was going, but not wanting to fall as low as to ask for help he stormed through the tori gate and down the staircase. If this was a shrine, the path must follow to somewhere if there was a shrine…