[Why did he always feel as though he was chasing after her back? Gilgamesh cries out too, Artoria, Artoria, but none of it will reach her. Everything's swallowed up by the furious sounds of combat, by the increasingly enraged screeches of the dragon. His words are also drowned out, but they are sadistic, and they are sorrowful, and they are all reminders of a love forsaken. But Gilgamesh hardly cares for them, anyway. He sees only the brave little King of Knights, fighting their battle for them, buying them time. The brave little Pawn, as selfless as ever, ducking and dodging and doing her best in spite of losing what once made her so great and so legendary.
He remembers, earlier in their conversation, I can't imagine a Noble Phantasm that would best fit me aside from Excalibur. If she cannot summon it, he decides, he must do so for her. Only Saber's most stalwart ally would carry the day here. And together with that lightning magic...
Yes, together. He agrees. Gilgamesh nods his head and spreads one of his hands, out to the side, and invokes every ounce of mana in his body. He must create something beyond anything he's ever managed before. He must devise a spell so powerful, that there will be no room for Tianya to recover. He pictures its shape; he recalls its glow; he thinks back, to how Saber held it high before her head to destroy a monster that threatened the world.
He remembers, the sword he was to face down himself before Enprise took him from his rightful battle. With all of his focus, and all of his effort, a massive broadsword of purest light forms beside him. It begins to charge, gaining energy from the lightning due to their link.]
Oh, holy sword, blade of peerless triumph; grace my hands and descend upon this battlefield. Vanquish them in your light; deliver onto them your fury and your judgment. Bathe them in your glory, and crush them with your might. I, Gilgamesh, call upon you now—Excalibur, Sword of Promised Victory!
[His magic responds. This was no true Excalibur, but it would come close. And that would have to be good enough.
Mana crackles and sizzles along the length of the sword. And when Saber might falter, when it seems as though she can hold out no more, even with Adra's blessing strengthening her, that is the moment Gilgamesh makes his move. With a devastating swing, he slams the sword into the ground...]
EEEEEEEXCALIBUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUR!
[An enormous burst of combined energy—more like a miniature bomb, lightning and holy intertwining to creature something new onto itself—roars to life and targets the dragon and both his remaining heads. Fall back, Gilgamesh shouts to her, so she doesn't get caught in the storm. This was it; either they won here, or they lost outright.]
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He remembers, earlier in their conversation, I can't imagine a Noble Phantasm that would best fit me aside from Excalibur. If she cannot summon it, he decides, he must do so for her. Only Saber's most stalwart ally would carry the day here. And together with that lightning magic...
Yes, together. He agrees. Gilgamesh nods his head and spreads one of his hands, out to the side, and invokes every ounce of mana in his body. He must create something beyond anything he's ever managed before. He must devise a spell so powerful, that there will be no room for Tianya to recover. He pictures its shape; he recalls its glow; he thinks back, to how Saber held it high before her head to destroy a monster that threatened the world.
He remembers, the sword he was to face down himself before Enprise took him from his rightful battle. With all of his focus, and all of his effort, a massive broadsword of purest light forms beside him. It begins to charge, gaining energy from the lightning due to their link.]
Oh, holy sword, blade of peerless triumph; grace my hands and descend upon this battlefield. Vanquish them in your light; deliver onto them your fury and your judgment. Bathe them in your glory, and crush them with your might. I, Gilgamesh, call upon you now—Excalibur, Sword of Promised Victory!
[His magic responds. This was no true Excalibur, but it would come close. And that would have to be good enough.
Mana crackles and sizzles along the length of the sword. And when Saber might falter, when it seems as though she can hold out no more, even with Adra's blessing strengthening her, that is the moment Gilgamesh makes his move. With a devastating swing, he slams the sword into the ground...]
EEEEEEEXCALIBUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUR!
[An enormous burst of combined energy—more like a miniature bomb, lightning and holy intertwining to creature something new onto itself—roars to life and targets the dragon and both his remaining heads. Fall back, Gilgamesh shouts to her, so she doesn't get caught in the storm. This was it; either they won here, or they lost outright.]