Chương 20: Kings Do Not Bow

Sairaorg lay on the shattered ground, his chest rising and falling heavily as he struggled to draw breath after the merciless exchange of blows. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest, his Touki flickering faintly as fatigue gnawed at him from within. His vision blurred for a split second— And then he saw it. A shadow eclipsed the sky. Sairaorg's eyes widened just in time to catch a glimpse of Gilgamesh soaring impossibly high above him, his body cutting through the air like a falling star. So fast…

Before Sairaorg could even fully process what was happening, Gilgamesh twisted mid-air, his body rotating as his left arm pulled back with terrifying focus." Busoshoku—Kōka!" The moment Gilgamesh roared the words, his left arm turned jet black, coated in hardened Armament Haki so dense it looked like polished obsidian forged into flesh. Veins pulsed violently beneath the darkened surface as he gathered all of his power into a single, decisive strike. Gravity took hold. Gilgamesh descended. Straight down.

Right toward Sairaorg's head. You didn't need foresight to know what would happen if that fist landed. Instinct screamed. At the absolute last moment, Sairaorg's wings burst open behind him. With a powerful flap fueled by desperation and Touki, he hurled himself sideways, narrowly escaping death as Gilgamesh's fist slammed into the ground where his head had been a fraction of a second earlier. Gilgamesh's hand opened." Extreme Earthquake!" The punch landed. The world broke.

A thunderous shockwave exploded outward from the point of impact, the ground collapsing inward before erupting violently. Entire slabs of earth were hurled into the air like shrapnel as a massive crater formed beneath Gilgamesh's fist. The tremor traveled far beyond the battlefield, shaking the surrounding mountains as if the land itself was screaming. Sairaorg hovered in the air, staring down at the destruction in stunned silence. A single punch. Is this… how people feel when they look at me? he wondered.

A bead of sweat slid down his face. Then—he laughed.

"Hahaha… you really are something else," Sairaorg said, his voice filled with genuine exhilaration.

"I haven't been pushed like this since my childhood." This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. Gilgamesh straightened slowly, dust and fragments of rock falling from his shoulders. His crimson eyes locked onto Sairaorg's form in the air.

"I can still see hesitation in you," Gilgamesh called out, his voice echoing across the ruined battlefield.

"Tell me—aren't you fighting for someone? Isn't there someone who believed in you from the very beginning?" Sairaorg froze. Gilgamesh took a step forward, his presence heavy.

"Wouldn't she want you to show everything you have?" Gilgamesh continued.

"You don't need the Power of Destruction. Your body is destruction. Why chase a power that was never meant to define you?" His voice rose, filled with conviction.

"I recognize you as a True King. So stop holding back. Show me your resolve. Show me your determination. That's the fight these people came to see." Gilgamesh spread his arms wide." Great King versus the King of Heroes! Let's tear this place down!" For Sairaorg, those words struck deeper than any punch. A weight he had carried his entire life—one he hadn't even realized was crushing him—suddenly cracked. Images flashed through his mind. His mother's gentle smile. Her sacrifices.

Her unwavering belief in him, even when the clan rejected him for lacking the Bael bloodline. Her wish for him to live freely. Not as a political tool. Not as a disappointment. But as himself. Sairaorg felt something inside him shatter. And then—solidify. Gilgamesh had always been someone he respected. And now, he understood why.

"Gilgamesh…" Sairaorg said quietly. Then his voice rose, burning with resolve.

"Your words reached my soul. I feel freer than I have in years. I will answer you with everything I have!" A blinding light erupted from Sairaorg's body. His Touki surged violently, no longer clinging to his form but exploding outward, wrapping around him in thick, radiant layers until it solidified into something resembling armor—life force made manifest. The pressure was suffocating. Every step Sairaorg took caused the battlefield to tremble. His power climbed. Past Ultimate Class. Into Satan Class.

Gilgamesh's lips curled upward. A laugh escaped him.

"Wonderful," he said, genuine joy in his voice.

"You truly are the real deal, Sairaorg Bael." A golden aura erupted around Gilgamesh, vast and overwhelming. The sheer pressure of it made breathing difficult for everyone watching. His presence alone felt like standing before a primordial force.

"Let me answer you the only way I know how!" Both kings moved. They collided. Fists met fists. The impact shook the heavens. They separated— And clashed again. And again. Shockwaves tore through the air as blows landed with earth-shattering force. There was no finesse left. No restraint. Only raw willpower and endurance. Blood flew. Bones creaked. Each strike carried the intent to dominate. It became a battle of who would fall first.

Finally, Sairaorg charged, gathering every last ounce of strength into one brutal punch. Gilgamesh's eyes sharpened. Time slowed. With Observation Haki, he saw the trajectory perfectly. He dodged by a hair's breadth. His left arm rose." Busoshoku—Kōka." His arm turned pitch black. Sairaorg couldn't move. Too exhausted. Too committed. So this is it, he thought calmly. Thank you… for reminding me who I am. Gilgamesh's fist slammed into Sairaorg's sternum.

The impact sent him flying backward before he crashed into the ground, unconscious. His Touki armor dissolved into fading particles of light. Silence. Kuisha rushed forward, kneeling beside Sairaorg. Gilgamesh stepped closer and placed a hand on Sairaorg's chest, green light flowing from his palm as [Healing] activated. Broken bones knit together, wounds closed.

"He's fine," Gilgamesh said calmly.

"Just unconscious." Kuisha bowed deeply before creating a magic circle and disappearing with Sairaorg. Gilgamesh sensed countless eyes watching—but none dared intervene. Sebas and Enkidu approached. Gilgamesh nodded. All was well. As he vanished into a magic circle, one truth echoed across the battlefield: A descendant of the King of Heroes had emerged. And the world would never be the same again.