Chapter 178: 178

Even when their spear broke in their own hands when they crashed into the torrent of steel, they fought on. Summoning another spear when they could, or fighting with their bare hands when they couldn't. A dozen or more swords would pierce their bodies, but they still kept throwing their spears forward, trying to fight the endless tide of swords.

Some laughed in admiration and joy at the power of the enemy they faced, while others screamed in anger and unwavering defiance as they swung their spears, but until the last moment they fought on, never surrendering.

And when they were forced to the ground, dragged down by the weight of the steel that clung to their flesh, they still fought. Dragging their broken bodies across the ground, staining the grass with their blood and forcing themselves up, only stopping when another flurry of swords tore through their bodies, and even then they only did so when the hearts in their chests stopped beating.

From the thousand they started with, their number quickly dropped to hundreds and then dozens. The corpses of the defeated rained down around the still living challengers, and still they did not falter.

But defiance and spirit meant nothing against the hard and unforgiving blade of cold steel. And so they continued to die until only a handful remained, barely clinging to life as the swords continued to fall in endless numbers.

And at the center was Kokabiel.

It was like a form given by grace, talent personified. Although it was like watching a hurricane, there was no chaos or disorder. Every movement had a purpose, every action a goal, not a single movement wasted.

He surpassed any skill of the greatest warriors who trained their lives, for one simple reason.

They were mortal.

Even an Assassin, who spent his entire life honing his skills, spent only a fraction of the time training that this angel had. This was a being that had lived for eons and had dedicated the entire last millennium honing his skill with weapons and it showed.

The spear in his hands clouded, leaving evidence of a flickering white, residual image. It was like a perfect dance, how each movement flowed perfectly into the next as all the steel around him continued to clash with the light.

Spears of light formed in the air by the thousands, thrown forward by invisible hands and crashing into the swords that threatened to drown them. They created a sphere around him, where swords and spears clashed, as he fought in the center of it all.

And despite everything, he laughed.

The spears could only stem the tide but an instant before they failed, but an instant was all he needed. When the swords broke, as they inevitably did, he would be ready for them. He danced and waved around them as he shouted with joy, his laughter filling the air even as he barely avoided death only to face it once again.

Dodging under high blows and flying over low ones, spinning and avoiding those that came at his side, he avoided the swords that broke his barrage. When it was not possible for the blow to be obstinate, even by someone of his skill, he would dodge them with the spear in his hands.

Against the swords of legend, a Noble Phantasm in his perfect form, even his spears would be no match. They shattered in his hands, but even with the destruction, their purpose was fulfilled and the sword would be deflected, flying away without doing damage. He would then promptly conjure another spear in preparation to deflect the next sword.

And it still wasn't enough.

The skill couldn't do much in the face of infinite steel. All around them, the rain of steel continued to fall, continuously pushing forward even as their spears tried in vain to stop them. They kept closing in around him, shrinking the space he had in the center of his formation, while all the time the number of swords going through his spears steadily increased.

Then the inevitable happened. He slipped.

He had positioned himself incorrectly, placing himself in the line of fire of two different swords that went through his spears. They came at him one after the other, blocking his line of escape, and did so at his most vulnerable moment. He was unarmed, having lost his previous spear deflecting one sword, and didn't have enough time to conjure another before they were upon him.

He could have avoided one sword, but not the other. Not without throwing himself between the swords and spear that were fighting around him. He could neither avoid them nor dodge them.

Instead, he intercepted them.

It was one of the most remarkable examples of fencing Gilgamesh had ever seen. He spun in place, counterclockwise, allowing the first sword to fly through where his left shoulder would be when he turned around. But before the sword could fly out of his reach, his hand reached out and grabbed the sword in the air.

Using the momentum of his spin to carry the sword with him, he pulled it up and swung it down over the second approaching sword, intending to deflect it with the first.

It was a brilliant maneuver, one that would have impressed even the most experienced of fighters. It should have been impossible to pull off during the chaos of live combat, but he pulled it off perfectly. It was something Gilgamesh had never seen before and may never see again.

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It was a shame he couldn't allow himself to complete it.

Just before the two swords clashed, Gilgamesh took the first one out of his hands. And it obeyed immediately, eager to obey, disappearing from his hands as if it had never existed. This should have finished him off at that moment, but once again Kokabiel's inhuman reflexes came into play.

The slight widening of his eyes was the only sign that allowed him to show his surprise as he twisted his body out of the way, bending almost painfully to get out of the way of the sword, and what should have been a mortal blow to his chest was turned into a deep cut in his side.

However, that was another slip.

Dozens of swords advanced against the Fallen Angel at such a great speed that he could not react.

They advanced, piercing his legs and arms, tearing his body and cutting close to his heart.

Kokabiel laughed as if his blood would not spill and stain the ground far below him, he laughed as if he did not care about his injuries.

"You have become an even stronger monster than last time" Kokabiel said with a huge smile at such a battle.

Gilgamesh smiled.

"And you impress me Kokabiel, as long as I can remember no enemy had ever managed to dodge and survive before my weapons." said Gilgamesh as he looked at Kokabiel impressed.

"Then let's get it over with" said Kokabiel as if they didn't care about his condition and still had a chance of victory.

"Yes, let's. And for having managed to impress me you will have the honor of dying by my hands" said Gilgamesh.

The King of Heroes extended his hand towards Xenovia and suddenly an immense sacred aura surged from Durandal.

The sword itself released its power forcing Xenovia to release it as it shot out towards Gilgamesh's hands.

At the moment Gilgamesh caught Durandal an immense sacred aura completely larger than the ones Xenovia had already released as a pale aura emerged from the sword.

Kokabiel looked on for a few seconds before speaking.

"Seeing you like that reminds me of Vasco Strada" Kokabiel said as he saw the aura released by Durandal.

Kokabiel moved forward creating the most powerful lance of light he could create, with enough power to destroy an entire city.

But it was already too late.

Gilgamesh raises the sword over his head.

"Grant me a miracle Durandal" said Gilgamesh and the Sword reacts to his wielder's wish.

It pierced the heavens, clearing the very sky of clouds. The light that came out of the blade was incomparable to what was before, unmatched by anything the Fallen had seen before as it brushed the end of the sky with its light.

And when Kokabiel looked at it, the nostalgic light that reminded him so much of his father, an old memory from long ago.

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