Chapter 3 dead man tell no tales

Sung Jinwoo stepped back, his dark aura surging around him like an unrelenting tide. His eyes gleamed with unwavering determination as he raised his hands, summoning the ultimate manifestation of his power.

From the swirling shadows emerged two legendary weapons, their forms emanating an otherworldly aura. The twin blades, known as Shadow Slayer, radiated darkness so profound it seemed to consume the very light around them. The edges of the swords shimmered with energy capable of cutting through even the fabric of reality itself, designed to strike down not just the physical but the abstract and divine.

In his mind, doubts lingered for a brief moment. These blades can cut even abstract beings... but could I truly defeat Gilgamesh?

Jinwoo tightened his grip on the blades, his resolve solidifying. There was no room for hesitation now. This was his moment to prove himself against a foe who stood above gods.

Across the battlefield, Gilgamesh stood tall, his smirk widening as he observed Jinwoo's transformation. "So, you intend to fight me with such toys? How amusing," he said, his voice dripping with condescension. "But very well. I shall grant you the honor of witnessing the true might of the King of Heroes!"

With a wave of his hand, the Gate of Babylon opened fully, golden portals spreading across the battlefield like stars in the night sky. From each portal emerged legendary weapons—swords, axes, scythes, and more—each one a masterpiece of destruction from the ages.

The weapons floated in the air, their blades gleaming with divine energy, each one humming with the promise of death. Gilgamesh raised his ancient sword, the center of his arsenal, and pointed it directly at Jinwoo.

"Come, Shadow King," he declared. "Let us see if your darkness can withstand the brilliance of my treasury!"

The air grew heavy as the battlefield became charged with the overwhelming power of both combatants.

Jinwoo lowered into a stance, the Shadow Slayer blades glowing with malevolent energy. He felt the weight of Gilgamesh's gaze, but he didn't falter.

Gilgamesh smirked, his golden eyes blazing with anticipation. Without hesitation, he commanded his arsenal forward. A storm of legendary weapons surged toward Jinwoo at blinding speed, each one aimed to pierce, slash, or obliterate.

Jinwoo roared, his voice echoing with the power of the Shadow King. With immeasurable speed, he dashed forward, his twin blades meeting the storm head-on. The clash of shadow and gold lit up the battlefield, shaking the earth and splitting the sky.

This was the ultimate battle—one of dominance, power, and unyielding will.

In the harsh and unforgiving Antarctic winter, where snowstorms raged and the world seemed frozen in time, a cataclysmic battle unfolded. The two most formidable beings to ever walk existence clashed, their power rewriting the very fabric of reality.

The icy ground trembled beneath their feet, and mountains that had stood for millennia crumbled into dust. The freezing winds carried not the chill of nature but the overwhelming energy released by their duel. The heavens themselves seemed to split, as if recoiling from the sheer magnitude of their confrontation.

On one side stood Gilgamesh, the King of Heroes. His golden armor shone like the sun, defying the cold and darkness of the Antarctic wasteland. Surrounding him were countless golden portals of the Gate of Babylon, each one brimming with legendary weapons from across time and space. His smirk was unwavering, his golden eyes filled with disdain and confidence.

On the other side was Sung Jinwoo, the Shadow King. His dark-element armor exuded an aura of death, and his twin blades, Shadow Slayer, radiated a power capable of severing even the abstract. Yet, despite his overwhelming presence, Jinwoo was on the back foot.

Gilgamesh's power was suffocating. His mastery of the battlefield and the endless arsenal at his disposal left little room for counterattacks. Each swing of his ancient sword tore through the shadows Jinwoo summoned, reducing them to nothingness.

"Is this all you have, Shadow King?" Gilgamesh taunted, his voice echoing amidst the chaos. "You boast of your final form, yet you are nothing but a speck before my glory!"

Jinwoo dashed forward, his speed immeasurable, his blades a blur as they sought to breach Gilgamesh's defenses. But each time, the King of Heroes met him with ease, deflecting his strikes and retaliating with devastating force. A single swing from Gilgamesh's sword sent shockwaves that carved through the icy terrain, forcing Jinwoo to retreat or risk annihilation.

The structures and mountains surrounding them were obliterated, reduced to rubble by the sheer intensity of their battle. What was once a pristine, frozen landscape now resembled a wasteland of destruction, a testament to the power of these two warriors.

Jinwoo, panting and battered, stood amidst the wreckage. His shadowy aura flickered as he struggled to maintain his form. He tightened his grip on the Shadow Slayer blades, his mind racing for a way to overcome the unyielding force that was Gilgamesh.

Meanwhile, Gilgamesh stood untouched, his golden armor unscathed, his smirk ever-present. "You are entertaining, I'll admit," he said, raising his sword again, "but entertainment alone cannot save you. Bow before your king, Shadow Monarch, and accept your end."

The battle raged on, a spectacle of raw power and unrelenting will, as Gilgamesh continued to dominate, his every move asserting his place as the ultimate force in the universe.

In the midst of the fierce battle, Sun Jinwoo found himself at a stark disadvantage. His opponent, Gilgamesh, moved with a grace and speed that belied the chaos around them. The air was thick with the clash of steel and the shouts of combat, but for Jinwoo, time seemed to slow as he watched the arc of Gilgamesh's sword.

With a swift, almost elegant motion, Gilgamesh's blade sliced through the air, severing Jinwoo's right hand at the wrist. The pain was immediate and blinding, a hot, searing agony that pulsed through his entire being. His hand fell to the ground, the sword clattering beside it, leaving Jinwoo in shock, his mind racing to process the loss.

Blood flowed freely, staining his armor and the earth beneath him, but Jinwoo's resolve did not waver. With his left hand, he gripped the hilt of his remaining weapon, his face set in grim determination. The injury was catastrophic, yet his spirit refused to yield.

Despite the pain, Jinwoo pressed forward, his movements now more desperate but no less fierce. Each swing of his sword was a testament to his resilience, adapting his fighting style to compensate for his loss. His eyes, filled with a mix of pain and unyielding spirit, locked onto Gilgamesh, who seemed almost amused by this display of tenacity.

With one hand, Jinwoo fought on, every strike now a statement of his unbreakable will. His movements were slower, less precise, but driven by a fierce determination to overcome the odds. The battle continued, the outcome uncertain, but Jinwoo's spirit was clear: he would fight until his last breath, with or without both hands.

With a smirk that exuded pure confidence, Gilgamesh raised his ancient sword, its edge shimmering with a divine power that seemed to transcend all understanding. The air around him warped as he swung the blade with unimaginable speed, slicing through not just the battlefield but the very fabric of reality itself.

The world seemed to pause as the sword's energy tore through existence, dividing space into two distorted realms. The separation was absolute; the once-shared battlefield became two fractured dimensions, each isolated from the other. Sung Jinwoo, now trapped in one of these distorted spaces, could feel the oppressive force of Gilgamesh's power bearing down on him.

Gilgamesh stood in the untouched space, his golden armor gleaming as he observed his handiwork. "You dared to challenge the King of Heroes, and now you will see the futility of your struggle," he declared, his voice echoing across the void.

With a second, deliberate swing of his sword, the distorted space where Jinwoo was imprisoned began to collapse. The air cracked and splintered, the very concept of reality disintegrating around him. The shadows that once obeyed his every command dissolved into nothingness as the destructive force consumed everything.

Jinwoo's body was obliterated in an instant, reduced to fragments that vanished into the void. Only his head remained, floating amidst the collapsing space. His eyes, filled with pain and disbelief, gazed upward toward the shattered sky.

As he stared into the void, his thoughts raced. Is this... the end? After everything, is this where I fall?

Gilgamesh watched from his realm, his smirk widening as he lowered his blade. "Look at you now, Shadow King. Reduced to nothing but a mere head. Do you see the difference between us? You were never my equal. This is the fate of those who challenge my supremacy."

The distorted space fully imploded, leaving nothing behind but a lingering void. Sung Jinwoo's head remained, surrounded by darkness, as his once-unyielding aura faded into silence. The Antarctic wasteland, now unrecognizable, bore the scars of their battle—a testament to the overwhelming might of the King of Heroes.

As the distorted space vanished, the battlefield returned to its fractured, icy wasteland. The snow and winds seemed to freeze in reverence to the two beings who had rewritten reality itself. Sung Jinwoo lay in the ruins of his own power, his body broken and his aura dimmed. He was a shadow of his former self, the weight of the battle bearing down on him.

Gilgamesh, unscathed and exuding his untouchable might, approached Jinwoo. His footsteps echoed in the silence, each step deliberate and calculated. In his hand, a massive golden sword shimmered with radiant energy, its edge glowing with a light that promised finality.

Stopping before Jinwoo, Gilgamesh raised the sword, aiming it directly at the Shadow King's throat. His golden eyes gleamed with arrogance as he smirked. "Do you know," he began, his tone dripping with disdain and amusement, "there is a very legendary poem that I find quite fitting for this moment." He leaned closer, his voice steady and mocking. "Dead men tell no tales."

Jinwoo, battered and at the edge of death, lifted his head slightly, his glowing eyes meeting Gilgamesh's unwavering gaze. His voice was faint but resolute. "Kill me now," he muttered, his tone devoid of fear.

Gilgamesh's smirk widened, his expression both condescending and impressed. "Kill you?" he said, almost mockingly. "You, Shadow King, have surpassed your mortal limits and fought like a warrior. That... is something I cannot forgive." He paused, lowering the sword slightly. "But be proud, warrior. You have earned my interest."

For the first time, there was a glimmer of genuine acknowledgment in Gilgamesh's tone. "Do not lose hope. Should we meet again, you shall entertain me once more."

As his words lingered in the air, Jinwoo's glowing eyes slowly closed. His head, the last remnant of his once-mighty form, began to disintegrate into fine black dust. The shadows that had defined him scattered into the icy winds, leaving nothing but silence.

Gilgamesh stood tall, his golden presence dominating the desolate battlefield. He turned away, his smirk returning as he gazed into the distant horizon. "Farewell, Shadow King," he said softly. "You were worthy of my attention, if only for a fleeting moment."

The Antarctic winds howled once more, carrying away the remnants of their battle, as the King of Heroes vanished into the blinding snow, leaving behind a world forever scarred by their clash.