DW DXD Remastered Chapter 12: Run and Keep Running (Patreon)

The golden portals shimmered into existence, hanging above in the morning sky like halos. Perfect circles rippled open one after another, each one revealing a different weapon: swords, spears, axes, all gleaming with lethal anticipation. Their edges caught the light, turning the quiet street into a killing ground.

Above them, draped in radiant gold, stood Gilgamesh. His crimson eyes held a faint glimmer of amusement as he gazed down at the boy below, at the lone human who dared stand in the face of a king.

Issei’s breath came quick and shallow as he took it all in. His instincts screamed at him to run, to hide, to do anything else, but his legs refused to move. 

“Hmph, I wonder how you were able to notice?” Gilgamesh mused, lips curling in disdain. “But no matter. Soon, your death is inevitable.”

Issei met that gaze head-on. His body trembled, but his eyes didn’t waver. 

That stubborn, infuriating determination burned there again and for a heartbeat, Gilgamesh remembered the vision Sha Naqba Imuru had shown him. The red fist. His shattered treasures. His own defeat. It made his blood boil. “You truly believe yourself capable of standing before me, clown?” He asked coldly and raised his hand. 

The portals answered as they whirred to life, humming with power as dozens of weapons aligned and fired in unison, every single one aimed directly at Issei, ignoring everything and everyone else.

Issei reacted on instinct.

“Move!” Sherri’s warning rang in his mind at the same time he lunged. He grabbed Tamamo with one arm, Sakura with the other, and dove, dragging them with him as a hail of golden weapons tore into the concrete they’d been standing on.

The explosion that followed shook the street. Shattered pavement and chunks of stone erupted into the air, a hot wind striking his back as he shielded the girls with his body.

He hit the ground hard and rolled, coming up in a crouch. His lungs burned as he dragged in a sharp breath. ‘He’s aiming for me. He doesn’t care what he hits.’

Tamamo stumbled beside him, trying to keep pace as he moved. Her body shook with every step; when she raised a hand to form a barrier, the spell sputtered, her fingers trembling. Sweat beaded at her temple, and her normally fluffy tails were limp and dull, hanging behind her like wilting flags. The aftermath of using her Noble Phantasm had gutted her reserves. She could draw more power from Issei, but right now every drop he had might mean the difference between life and death.

Her ears twitched as she spoke through their bond, her voice strained but trying to remain playful. ‘Mmmh… Darling, I’m afraid I might be completely spent… Give me… just a moment—no, perhaps an hour or two, and I’ll be right back in action!’

Issei glanced back at her, jaw tightening at the sight. “Not happening. Just stay put.”

The blunt rejection stung more than she expected. Her hands curled into tight fists. She was a Servant, a legendary historical figure, the wife who was supposed to stand at his side. Right now, she felt like dead weight, barely able to throw up a flicker of a barrier. ‘If I just had a little more mana… if I hadn’t gone so all-out in that damn basement…’

A thunderous blast cut through her thoughts.

Another cluster of projectiles slammed into the street, detonating in a storm of noise and heat. The shockwave ripped through the air, sending shards of concrete and glass hurtling past them.

Issei raised his arm, the impact rattling his bones as fragments peppered his back. “Tch—!”

Tamamo grit her teeth, cursing under her breath. “Damn that gold-plated jerk…! If only I had more—!”

The sentence died in her throat as another wave of dizziness washed over her, her knees nearly buckling.

Issei stepped in front of her without thinking, squaring his shoulders, using his own body as a shield. “I’ll handle it,” He said, eyes fixed on the sky. “Just don’t push yourself.”

Tamamo stared at his back, worry and frustration warring in her exhausted gaze. After a heartbeat, she nodded. “Please… be careful, darling.”

There was no time to reply as a new fresh barrage screamed down toward them.

Issei sprinted back, pushing off the cracked asphalt as the world exploded where he’d just been. He dove again, rolling across the pavement as a line of radiant spears and swords shredded the ground behind him.

By the time he skidded to a stop, he realized with a cold jolt. He and Tamamo had been separated from Sakura. “Damn it!” Issei hissed. “You really don’t care where you’re shooting, do you?!” He shouted up at the king.

Gilgamesh chuckled, watching the chaos unfold below as if it were nothing more than a mildly entertaining spectacle. “Care?” He echoed. “Why should I concern myself with the fate of mere insects? Their existence is as insignificant as yours.”

Another wave of portals opened. More weapons rained down.

Issei sprinted through the destruction, Sherri’s voice feeding him trajectories in rapid bursts. “Left, two incoming. Dodge, don’t block. The next three are weaker, parry those. High right and evade!”

He followed her directions as best he could, gritting his teeth as he swatted aside the lighter blades with his gauntlet and dodged the heavier Noble Phantasms entirely. Each one that missed him tore chunks from the street, shredded parked cars, or punched through building façades in a storm of dust and glass.

The neighborhood began to scream. Windows blew out in showers of shards. Concrete columns cracked and groaned. The distant wail of panicked voices grew as people peered from doorways and alleyways, only to retreat in terror from the impossible scene overhead. A signpost was cleaved in half and sent spinning. A shopfront exploded into debris. 

And above that chaos, a single figure stood paralyzed. Sakura hadn’t realized she’d been separated until the next blast knocked her off-balance. Now she stood in the middle of the broken street, violet eyes wide and unfocused. The world around her had become noise. 

‘Trapped again.’ Her mind flashed back to the worm pit. To the suffocating weight. To the constant crawling under her skin. To the nights where she didn’t know if she’d wake up in the same body—or at all. Her lungs seized. Her legs wouldn’t move.

A lamppost, its base shredded by an earlier blast, teetered precariously above her. The metal groaned as it leaned, ready to fall.

“Sakura! Move!” Issei shouted, heart slamming against his ribs as he saw the lamppost about to crush her. 

But Gilgamesh smirked as he saw a chance to finish the clown.“Pitiful,” he scoffed, flicking his wrist.

A golden gate opened in the air behind the girl. A spear shot forth, its tip aimed precisely at her back.

Time seemed to slow.

Sakura’s breath hitched. She wanted to move. To duck. To run. Anything. But her body didn’t listen. Just like when the worms crawled into her, when she’d been lowered into that pit again and again. Just like when she realized no one was coming. When she realized she’d been left there. ‘Again… I can’t…’

But a hand reached out to her as Issei roared, forcing power through his arm.

“BOOST!”

The emerald jewel flashed, and he crossed the distance in an instant by his standards. He threw himself forward, snagging Sakura around the waist and twisting his body mid-air.

The spear tore past, grazing his shoulder. White-hot pain lanced through his flesh as skin split. Blood spattered the ground as they tumbled, rolling across broken pavement until they skidded to a stop amid dust and debris.

Issei sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. “Kh—!” He ignored the throbbing agony in his arm and pushed himself up, cradling Sakura protectively with his uninjured side. “You okay?!” He asked, voice rough.

Sakura trembled in his arms, her fingers digging into his shirt. “I… I think so…” She whispered, still shaking.

High above, Gilgamesh chuckled. “How unsightly,” he said. “You grovel in the dirt for an insignificant mongrel. What a waste of effort.”

Issei glared up at him, chest heaving, blood running warm down his arm. “Shut the hell up!” He shot back. “If you think I’m gonna let you do whatever you want, you’re dead wrong.”

The King of Heroes tilted his head slightly, amused. “Oh?” His lips curled into a feral smile. “Then entertain me, clown. Show me if you are anything more than an insect struggling against the inevitable.” More golden circles bloomed into existence around him, lining the sky like a twisted constellation. Each one filled with gleaming death, each one hungry to be fired.

Issei tightened his grip around Sakura, feeling her trembling against him. Somewhere behind him, Tamamo was still catching her breath, her magic running on fumes. Around them, terrified civilians cowered in doorways and behind cars, the street a battlefield they didn’t understand.

He couldn’t stay here. Not without drawing the fire straight through everyone else. He couldn’t let Tamamo fight and he couldn't let Sakura be hurt. Not after everything.

‘This isn’t just about me anymore.’ Issei took a slow breath, forcing down the pain, the fear, the frantic pounding in his chest. He had to survive this. He had to get them out before Gilgamesh turned the whole city into rubble just to erase one idiot in a red gauntlet.

But then a new voice cut through the chaos, deep, composed, and carrying a weight that made even the ringing of metal and crackle of mana seem to fall away for a moment.

“That is enough, my king.”

Gilgamesh’s eyes slid sideways, irritated at the interruption.

“I did not bring you here to terrorize the city,” The voice continued calmly, “and I beseech you that you do not endanger Sakura any longer. I will be taking her back home.”

Sakura’s blood ran cold as she knew that voice. Slowly, almost mechanically, she turned her head. Her fingers tightened in Issei’s sleeve as dread pooled in her stomach, rising like bile.

Tohsaka Tokiomi stepped into view, his elegant wine-colored coat barely disturbed despite the ruined street around him. Debris and dust framed him like an afterthought, as if the destruction itself dared not cling to him. His expression was stern, eyes sweeping once over the damage with quiet disapproval… before settling entirely on the girl at Issei’s side. “I will be taking my daughter back now.” He said.

Issei narrowed his eyes. “And who the hell are you?”

Tokiomi barely spared him a glance, his gaze fixed on Sakura as though no one else truly existed. “Sakura,” He said, voice measured. “Come. It is time to return home.”

Her small shoulders shook. Not from fear this time, but from something heavier, something that had been festering in the dark for years. Her fingers curled into fists. “…No.”

Tokiomi paused, as if the word simply didn’t register. “Excuse me?”

Sakura drew in a shaky breath. Her heart pounded in her ears, but the words forced their way past the knot in her throat. “I said no.” She lifted her head, violet eyes wet and shining with fury. “I will not go back to you. Not to the man who gave me away to suffer.”

For the first time, a crack appeared in Tokiomi’s carefully crafted mask. A flicker of emotion, guilt, regret, something raw flickered in his eyes before he suppressed it. He had never visited her. Never checked on her. Never questioned what the Matou would do. He’d told himself it was necessary. Logical. The best path for both daughters and for the Tohsaka name.

Hearing the venom in Sakura’s voice made the lie hard to swallow. He knew he had failed her. And yet his pride strangled any apology before it could form. “Sakura,” He said quietly, “This is not up for debate. You belong with your family.”

“Family?” Sakura let out a broken, bitter laugh. Tears spilled down her cheeks. “You’re not my family. You never were.” Her voice rose, shaking but unyielding. “I will not go back! Not to you!” Her words cracked, but she forced them out anyway. “You gave me away! You let them—let them—!” She couldn’t finish the sentence. The memories clogged her throat as she remembered the pit, the worms, the pain, the cold endless nights.

The air between them grew suffocating, thick with all the words they had never said, all the wounds that could never be mended. A father who had convinced himself he’d done what was best. A girl who had been sacrificed for that decision.

But Tokiomi said nothing. His heart clenched in his chest, but his mind told him this was the weight of his choice. The price of being head of the Tohsaka family. Her hatred was deserved. He accepted it… but still he stepped forward, as if duty might overwrite what she felt.

Issei watched the exchange, his jaw tight and his mind racing. Gilgamesh still hovered above, focus fixed on him. The street was a warzone, civilians were screaming, and now this drama between father and daughter was unfolding in the middle of it all.

He didn’t have time. He turned to Tamamo, his expression hardening with resolve. “Tamamo,” Issei said, voice low but firm. “Take Sakura to the Hanas’ residence. Tell them to start packing. By tomorrow, Sherri can activate the Dimensional Watch and get us out of here.”

Tamamo’s ears twitched under her illusion. She stared at him like he’d just suggested she jump into a worm pit for fun. “Absolutely not!” She snapped, tails bristling even if they weren’t visible. “You think I’ll abandon you to fight Archer alone? That I’ll leave you with that golden nuisance while I run off? No way!”

Issei’s jaw clenched. “This isn’t up for debate, Tamamo. I need you to do this.”

She folded her arms, eyes narrowing. “And I need you alive. Unless you have some miracle plan that guarantees you won’t get skewered like a yakitori, I’m staying right here.”

“Tamamo…” He dragged a hand down his face, feeling the ache in his wounded arm and the pressure of Gilgamesh’s killing intent bearing down on him. “Please. Just listen.”

She stepped closer instead, pressing her palm flat against his chest, right over his pounding heart. “No.” Her voice softened, but the steel didn’t leave it. “I’m not leaving you behind.”

For a moment, the chaos around them seemed to fade—the golden portals, the dust, the distant screams, all dulled beneath the weight of that simple refusal.

Issei stared at her… then exhaled slowly. He lifted his hand and cupped her cheek, thumb brushing lightly over her skin. Tamamo’s eyes widened in surprise as he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.

It was brief, but gentle and steady in a way his frantic movements hadn’t been all morning.

Her eyes fluttered shut before she even realized it, sinking into the warmth of the kiss despite the battlefield around them.

When he pulled back, Issei rested his forehead against hers for a heartbeat. “Please,” he whispered. “Trust me.”

Her lips parted, breath stirring against his. His eyes were serious, no jokes, no lechery, just raw determination. 

“I’ll be fine,” He said. “But I need you to do this for me.”

Tamamo swallowed. The urge to argue burned in her throat. She wanted to scream at him, to drag him away, to tell him his life mattered more than this stupid city, more than any Grail War, more than some arrogant king. Instead… she let out a long, trembling sigh.

“Mikon! You better come back to me, Issei,” She murmured, voice softer than the morning breeze. “If you die, I’ll march into the afterlife and drag you back just to kill you myself.”

A small smile tugged at his lips. “Deal.”

Reluctantly, she stepped away and turned toward Sakura. The girl flinched as Tamamo scooped her up, but didn’t resist. She just clung to Tamamo’s clothes, eyes fixed desperately on the boy she’d just started to think of as a hero.

“Issei!!” Sakura screamed, reaching a hand toward him as Tamamo took off down the street.

His heart lurched. But he didn’t move. He just gave her a crooked smile and a small wave, like this was nothing more than a minor inconvenience to him.

Then she was too far to reach.

High above, Tokiomi’s voice rose sharply, cutting through the morning air. “Gilgamesh! Go after Caster at once.”

The King of Heroes didn’t even bother to look at him. His crimson eyes never left Issei, a feral grin slowly stretching across his face. “You overestimate your authority, magus,” He drawled. “I am not a tool to be ordered around. My interest lies with this clown alone.”

Tokiomi’s expression tightened. “This is an order. We must retrieve my daughter.”

Gilgamesh’s response was immediate. “Hmph. I refuse.” He then laughed, a contemptuous, low sound that made it abundantly clear what he thought of the notion. “Do not mistake your borrowed power for control over me,” he said. “I am king. I will do as I please.”

Tokiomi’s hands clenched at his sides. He could feel the heat of humiliation rising in his chest. He still had two Command Seals. He could force Gilgamesh’s obedience again. Drag him by the throat of magical compulsion to retrieve Sakura.

But another Command Seal spent now—over mere disobedience—would be an admission of how little authority he truly had. And worse, it would deepen Gilgamesh’s resentment. A king’s pride was not something to trifle with.

He hesitated, eyes flicking down to the red sigils etched into his hand.

That was when Kirei’s smooth, unreadable voice flowed into his mind. “There is another way, Tohsaka.”

Tokiomi’s eyes narrowed slightly. ‘Kirei…? Speak,’ He replied silently.

“I have already positioned Assassin near Archer,” Kirei explained in that same calm tone. “He has been watching unnoticed. Allow me to send him after Caster instead.”

Tokiomi’s gaze slid in the direction Tamamo and Sakura had gone. His true objective wasn’t Caster. It was Sakura. The daughter he had lost, and suddenly had back within reach.

‘If Assassin could pursue them… retrieve Sakura… Then I could avoid provoking Archer further, conserve my Command Seals, and still reclaim my daughter.’

“Very well,” Tokiomi answered at last. “But ensure they do not harm the girl. That is an absolute order.”

On the other end of the link, Kirei gave a small bow. “Of course, Master Tokiomi,” he replied, expression unreadable. “It will be done.”

Above, the golden king smiled down at the boy in red.

Below, Issei tightened his stance, feeling the weight of every gaze on him. Tamamo and Sakura were running as far away as possible. Gilgamesh was focused solely on him. And he was about to stand alone.

Issei’s heart hammered in his chest as another ring of golden portals shimmered into existence above the ruined street. Each one hummed with lethal promise.

He couldn’t fight here. Not with people still screaming in the distance, not with cars overturned and buildings already half-collapsed. Every blast, every stray blade, meant more civilians caught in the crossfire.

‘I need to get him away from here… somewhere empty. Somewhere I can cut loose…’ He grit his teeth, spun on his heel, and ran in the opposite direction Tamamo had taken.

“Hey, Goldie!” he shouted over his shoulder, legs pumping as he vaulted over a shattered wall. “You want me? Try and catch me!”

Gilgamesh’s smirk sharpened. “Running already? How dull.” His eyes gleamed with malicious delight. “But very well, I shall indulge you.”

He flicked his wrist. The portals roared to life.

A hail of Noble Phantasms screamed through the air. Issei barely had time to register them before the first wave descended—swords, spears, and axes trailing killing intent.

“Boost!”

Power surged through his body. Issei kicked off the cracked asphalt, leaping over a ruined car as a jagged sword tore through the chassis like paper. Shrapnel and glass exploded around him, peppering his skin as the weapon buried itself where he’d stood a heartbeat ago.

He hit the ground running.

He weaved between abandoned vehicles and crumbling storefronts, lungs burning as his feet pounded against broken pavement. Behind him, golden light chased his shadow—each flicker another weapon slamming down, tearing the street apart in a chorus of destruction.

A streetlight detonated to his left, showering sparks. A spear shattered a traffic signal just ahead, fragments whistling past his ear. A building façade collapsed in on itself with a thunderous crash, dust clouds rolling through the road like a wave.

But Issei didn’t slow. ‘Come on… just a little farther…’

He cut through a side road, then another, leaving behind the shops and apartments for rusted chain-link fences and old warehouses. The smell of smoke gave way to oil and metal. The screams faded, replaced by the distant groan of stressed steel and crackling flames.

Finally, the city opened up into an abandoned industrial zone—silent, empty, a graveyard of concrete and rust. No pedestrians. No traffic. No one to get caught in the crossfire.

Issei skidded to a stop in the middle of a wide loading yard, shoes scraping across cracked cement. He bent slightly at the waist, breathing hard, sweat running down his back as his heart pounded against his ribs.

He then turned to face his opponent.

Gilgamesh approached at an almost lazy pace, as if he were out for a casual stroll rather than following a trail of destruction. His golden armor gleamed even in the dull light, untouched by the dust and smoke that stained everything else.

Arms crossed, he regarded Issei with bored amusement. “Hmph. And here I thought you had a plan,” He scoffed. “You merely fled like a rat to a cage of your own making.”

“Boost!”

Issei straightened, rolling his shoulders as he lifted his left arm. The Boosted Gearshining in red light, the emerald jewel set in the gauntlet pulsing with power.

“Yeah, well,” He shot back, lips curling into a defiant grin, “now I don’t have to hold back.” He spread his stance, eyes locked on the King of Heroes. “Let’s see how high and mighty you really are when you’re not just blowing up buildings.”

Gilgamesh chuckled, slow and cold. Golden circles blossomed into existence behind him, one after another, until the air above the yard was studded with portals—each one harboring a lethal treasure of his vault.

“Very well, Clown,” He said, crimson eyes gleaming as the first weapon slid forward, hungry for blood. “Amuse me… before I grow bored of your struggling.”

Issei tightened his fists. ‘No Tamamo. No Sakura. No civilians. Just me and him.’

“Bring it,” He muttered, the Boosted Gear glowing brighter.

The battle between the dragon and king was about to begin.

—-----------------------

Shrouded silhouettes flowed through the ruined streets like spilled ink, slipping from one shadow to the next. The Assassins moved in eerie silence, blades drawn, a net of death closing in on their quarry.

The instant they lunged from the darkness, Tamamo’s ears twitched. ‘There.’

She twisted, sandels scraping against broken asphalt as she turned on instinct, just in time for the first dagger to slash past her cheek and bury itself in the cracked pavement with a sharp thunk.

Sakura clung to her kimono, trembling. “Miss T–Tamamo!”

“Hold on, little one~!” Tamamo chirped, voice light, but her eyes were razor-sharp as she assessed the encirclement.

At least six Assassins had stepped fully into view, white skull masks blank, movements inhumanly precise as they fanned out. More killing intent seeped from the surrounding shadows, watching, waiting. Waiting for the opening to strike at the girl in her arms.

Tamamo clicked her tongue. “Tsk. Cockroaches, the lot of you.”

Her reserves were low. Her Eightfold Blessing had taken more out of her than she’d like to admit. But the lingering warmth from Issei’s kiss still flickered inside her, enough prana trickling in to keep her standing.

One Assassin lunged, dagger aimed for the gap between her ribs.

Tamamo pivoted, sandals skidding, turning her body just enough for the blade to cut through empty air. Before she could fully recover, another Assassin slid in from behind—silent, lethal.

Her free hand snapped up, conjuring a burst of pink-tinged fire.

The flames roared to life, forcing the attacker to abort his strike and vault back, cloak sizzling where the fire licked at it. He barely flinched before another Assassin took his place without hesitation.

‘Persistent bastards…’

She couldn’t fight properly while holding Sakura. One arm taken, her body shielding the girl, surrounded from all sides, this was the worst possible terrain for her.

Steel flashed as another blade sliced in from the side. Tamamo twisted away, but not fully—pain stung her upper arm as the dagger grazed her, crimson blooming across her sleeve.

Sakura gasped. “Tamamo, you’re hurt!”

Tamamo huffed, forcing a crooked smile. “Oh, this? Just a scratch, dear. I’ve had worse papercuts~”

Inwardly, she swore. She needed space. A distraction. An exit.

The Assassins’ formation tightened. They moved like wolves, silent and ruthless, each step calculated to leave her fewer and fewer options.

Then one of them stepped forward and Tamamo’s pupils narrowed as he raised a hand.

The others froze instantly, blades lowering just a fraction. Their stillness was more suffocating than their movement.

“You must be the one in charge,” Tamamo muttered.

The Assassin spoke at last, his voice smooth but empty. “We have orders to retrieve the girl. Hand her over. This does not concern you, Caster.”

Tamamo scoffed. “Oh, really? Funny, because all the stabbing suggests otherwise.”

“You are an obstacle,” He replied flatly. “Nothing more.”

Her smile sharpened. “Flattery will get you nowhere, you know.”

There was the faintest exhale—annoyance, maybe. “Kill her.”

They quickly moved as one.

Tamamo kicked off the ground, flipping backward as a storm of daggers shredded the air where she’d been. Steel sang past her, some close enough that she felt the wind of their passage. One blade nicked her cheek; another sliced through the edge of her sleeve.

Her hand snapped forward.

A fan of golden ofuda, charms she’d prepared precisely for when things went horribly wrong, shot from her sleeve.

“Let’s see you dance—Fire Seal!”

The talismans detonated mid-air, erupting into bursts of shimmering blue flame. Several Assassins were forced to leap back as the fire washed over the street, heat distorting the air.

But others pushed through the flames without hesitation, cloaks smoldering as they resumed the hunt.

‘Of course. Disciplined, disposable, and annoyingly professional.’ Tamamo’s jaw tightened. Taking them head-on like this would just wear her down until they eventually slipped past her guard—and Sakura was a single mistake away from being snatched.

She needed something they couldn’t brute-force. And they needed Sakura alive.

Which meant—

A plan slid into place.

“Alright, little one,” Tamamo murmured, shifting her grip. “Don’t scream, okay?”

Sakura barely managed a frightened nod.

Tamamo’s arms moved. For anyone watching, it happened too fast as she tossed Sakura straight up.

The girl let out a tiny gasp as her body was in the air but before panic could take root, Tamamo’s hands flashed as her mirror was summoned and shined.

“Illusion Arts—Mirror Mirage!”

A thick, shimmering smokescreen exploded outward, swallowing the street in hazy light and swirling fog. The Assassins’ line of sight vanished for a heartbeat—

And that was all Tamamo needed.

Shapes bloomed within the mist.

Dozens of Tamamos and Sakuras burst from the haze in every direction, sprinting down side streets, vaulting over debris, darting between alleys. Illusory sandals slapped against illusory stone, phantom sleeves fluttered, the scent of her magic clouding the air.

To Sakura, it felt like the world fractured into mirrors.

To the Assassins, every direction became a potential target causing them to hesitate.

That single, fatal delay was all it took.

The real Tamamo caught Sakura cleanly as she fell, gathering the girl back into her arms without breaking stride. Her tails—hidden to mundane eyes—lashed once, and she bolted, slipping through a gap in their formation at inhuman speed.

By the time the Assassins surged forward to strike, she and the real Sakura were already gone, a flicker of pink light disappearing around a distant corner.

One Assassin stood amidst the fading illusions, eyes tracking as false Tamamos and Sakuras glitched and dissolved into motes of light.

The street fell silent.

“…Tch.”

Blades lowered.

They had been outplayed.

But the hunt was far from over.

Without a word, the masked figures melted back into the streets, shadows swallowing them one by one as they slipped into pursuit as they became ghosts in the dark, fanning out once more to track the elusive fox and the girl she refused to surrender.

—-----------------------------------

Issei panted as he barely dodged another glittering storm from the Gate of Babylon.

Blades filled the sky. Swords, spears, axes, halberds, countless Noble Phantasms rained down on him like a divine execution, each one fast enough to kill him ten times over if he slipped even once. He twisted his body, shoes skidding across broken asphalt, lungs burning as he pushed his limits just to stay alive.

“BOOST.”

The jewel on the Boosted Gear flashed, green energy surging through his body. Power roared in his veins, muscles tightening as his speed and strength spiked. He swung his gauntleted arm up, knocking aside a weaker blade, then slapped another down into the ground with a shower of sparks.

But it wasn’t enough.

For every weapon he deflected, three more took its place. The sky behind Gilgamesh was an endless wall of golden ripples, each one a doorway to another treasure.

“Running out of breath already, mongrel?” Gilgamesh’s voice dripped with disdain, echoing from above. His crimson eyes were bright with cruel amusement, as if watching a bug struggle in a web. “You truly believed yourself capable of standing before me? What an insult.”

“Tch—!” Issei rolled hard to the side as a spear crashed down where he’d just been standing, pulverizing concrete. Shards of stone raked across his cheek.

He dove behind the broken shell of a collapsed building, pressing his back against the cracked wall as dust rained around him. His heart hammered in his chest, each breath scraping his throat.

‘I can’t keep this up. I can’t win like this. He’s not even serious yet… and I’m already at my limit.’

He couldn’t brute force his way through the Gate of Babylon. Gilgamesh’s arsenal wasn’t just powerful—it was endless. The King of Heroes was playing with him. If Issei didn’t change the game, he’d die here.

“Sherri!” He shouted in his mind, teeth gritted as another volley tore chunks out of the building overhead. “You told me once that the moment my life is in danger, the Dimensional Watch will teleport me out of it!”

Ddraig rumbled. (What are you thinking, partner?)

Sherri’s voice chimed in, calm but tense. “Indeed. But Archer is firing too quickly. You might not be able to teleport fast enough to escape lethal impact.”

“Guess I’ll have to gamble on it.” Issei’s eyes narrowed, fingers digging into his palm. “When it triggers, can you set the destination behind the gold bastard over there?”

…I shall try my best.

Ddraig growled. (Even if you hit him with a Dragon Shot, I doubt it will do more than scratch that pompous fool.)

‘It doesn’t have to defeat him,’ Issei thought back. ‘It just has to knock him away.’

Above him, the air hummed. He didn’t need to look to know what that sound meant now: more portals were opening. Meaning more death was incoming.

He broke from cover, sprinting, just as the next wave came crashing down where he stood.

Blades screamed past him, slicing the air, smashing into the ground, exploding against stone. One sword grazed his shoulder as he twisted, pain flaring hot, but he forced his legs to keep moving.

“Enough of this pathetic scrambling.” Gilgamesh’s annoyance finally bled through his arrogance. “I grow weary of this farce. Die with the knowledge that you were nothing more than a mere clown unworthy of my presence.”

The sky lit up.

Dozens of weapons launched at once—no rhythm, no gaps, just a wall of certain death zeroing in on his position. There was nowhere to dodge. No cover. No miracles.

Issei didn’t even bother to raise his arm to block. ‘Yeah. There’s no way out of this… unless—’

The watch on his wrist flared.

“Host in extreme peril. Teleportation access granted. Initiating short-range teleportation.”

Space warped around him like water, the world blurring in an instant.

One heartbeat he was staring down a lattice of incoming Noble Phantasms. The next he was behind Gilgamesh.

“What—?!” Gilgamesh’s eyes widened, his regal composure cracking for the first time as he sensed the presence behind him.

Issei didn’t waste the opening.

“Eat this! DRAGON SHOT!!!”

“EXPLOSION!!”

The Boosted Gear roared, the jewel blazing bright. A pillar of condensed, crimson dragon power erupted from his gauntlet, the blast point-blank and merciless.

The Dragon Shot slammed into Gilgamesh’s back like a cannon of pure rage.

The resulting explosion rocked the ruins below. Shockwaves tore across the empty industrial zone, shattering windows and kicking up a cloud of dust and debris. Gilgamesh’s golden form was flung forward, smashing through a row of broken structures like a comet before finally disappearing in a spray of rubble.

Issei didn’t wait to admire his handiwork.

“Let’s get the hell out of here!!”

Gravity reclaimed him. He hit the ground in a rough roll, legs screaming in protest as he forced them to move anyway. He pushed every Boost he had left into his muscles and ran, sprinting like the devil himself was behind him.

Behind him, in the distant ruin Gilgamesh had been launched into, a wave of golden light flared.

The last thing Issei heard as he bolted away was an enraged, animal snarl tearing from the King of Heroes’ throat.

“YOU FUCKING CLOWN—!!”

Issei didn’t look back. He ran until his lungs burned, until his legs felt like they were on fire. He ran through shattered streets and past empty lots, chasing the faint sound of rushing water.

Finally, the city broke open, giving way to the river that split Fuyuki in two.

His legs gave out the moment he reached the edge.

“Shit—!”

He let himself fall forward, tumbling into the river with a splash. The shock of cold water punched the air from his lungs, but then the current grabbed him, dragging him along, carrying him farther and farther from the battlefield. He quickly stopped fighting it and let it drag him as far away as possible.

‘Just… get me away from him.’ He didn’t know how long he drifted. He just focused on keeping his head above water, on not blacking out, on clinging to the fraying edge of consciousness.

Eventually, the current weakened.

His hand brushed something solid, sand, rock, shallow ground. With the last of his strength, he clawed his way onto a muddy stretch of riverbank, dragging himself forward until he finally collapsed onto damp sand.

He laid there on his back, chest heaving, soaked clothes plastered to his skin, the chill of the water seeping into his bones.

The world was quiet. No explosions. No blades singing through the air. Just the gentle rush of the river and the distant sounds of a waking city.

“…Hah… hah…” A tired, disbelieving grin slowly crept onto his face as he stared up at the pale sky. “Damn… that was… way too close.”

Done. Tell me what you think and if I made any mistakes.