Gilgamesh's golden armor could withstand several attacks from the Holy Sword without breaking and possessed extremely high Magic Resistance—high enough to negate most magecraft. Its origins were never explained in detail, nor were there any numerical values.
After ensuring his safety,
he summoned his royal vessel—the radiant ship Vimana.
It was a flying vessel formed from magical energy, capable of soaring freely through the sky.
Across the vast heavens, rolling clouds were torn apart, while thunderous explosions rose and fell like the wrath of the heavens being unleashed.
Gilgamesh rode Vimana high above the clouds. His gaze burned as he looked through the billowing smoke and directly at the Golden Man below.
The Golden Man, that golden giant standing at the center of the battlefield, seemed like the most impregnable fortress between heaven and earth. Clad in golden armor and crowned in gold, every detail radiated an awe-inspiring light.
No matter how fiercely Gilgamesh's Noble Phantasms bombarded it, the Golden Man remained unmoved, like an indestructible mountain.
A grave look crossed Gilgamesh's face.
He knew full well that this opponent was no ordinary foe.
He lightly stroked Vimana's armrest, and a powerful fighting spirit surged within him. With another wave of his hand, countless Noble Phantasms flew from the Gate of Babylon, turning into streaks of light as they howled toward the Golden Man.
On the ground, explosions roared deafeningly.
Every Noble Phantasm that fell kicked up enormous clouds of dust.
Golden light and smoke intertwined, forming a chaotic world. Yet within that chaos, the Golden Man's figure remained clearly visible.
It was like a lone warrior, facing endless attacks without ever retreating.
Gilgamesh's offensive grew ever fiercer. He continuously drew Noble Phantasms from the Gate of Babylon and hurled them at the Golden Man.
The Noble Phantasms traced graceful