Chapter 25: Who Is This Man in the Blue Tight Suit?

        

Chapter 25: Who Is This Man in the Blue Tight Suit?

From a movie storytelling perspective, Gilgamesh showing up as the final boss felt… kind of sudden.

After all, in most movies—especially when time is limited—you usually introduce the main antagonist early on to give the audience time to digest who they are. Some superhero films even name the villain in the title. Even if the story plans a late twist, they’ll at least let the villain pop in once or twice beforehand.

But in Shinji’s Fate/Stay Night?

Gilgamesh just appears. No foreshadowing. No ominous silhouette lurking in the shadows. Just—bam!—he’s there, dazzling and radiant right on the big screen.

And yet… that’s exactly how Shinji wanted it. He believed Gilgamesh’s character needed to crash the stage like a thunderclap—only then could his arrival leave the deepest impact and carve his image into the minds of the audience.

“Who the hell is this arrogant guy!?”

Just as expected, the moment Gilgamesh appeared, he completely stole the spotlight.

Forget the gold armor that lit up the entire theater like it was noon under the sun—his sheer presence was a head-turner.

“So this guy’s the final boss, huh? Definitely didn’t see that coming.”

Takanashi Natsu’s mouth twitched ever so slightly. “This director really loves throwing curveballs.”

Ever since the movie started, Natsu had been trying to guess how things would wrap up—more specifically, which Servant would face Saber in the final showdown.

He’d ruled out Rider early on. Her vibes just screamed “mid-boss.”

Lancer was a possibility. The classic “face your first rival again at the end” kind of structure. But… Lancer just didn’t give off the final boss aura.

He even suspected Archer for a while—maybe a tragic clash between comrades, something that’d leave emotional scars on the protagonist group.

But that theory crumbled once Archer exited the stage.

Honestly, Natsu had been betting on Berserker.

The Herculean giant from Greek myth, all muscles and madness—he had the look, the feel, the presence of a final boss.

Except… he got plot-deleted by the protagonist duo.

Before Gilgamesh’s surprise entry, Natsu had seriously expected the last battle to be at Ryuudou Temple against Caster.

The movie had teased an alliance between Caster and Assassin. A 2v1 against Saber sounded like a solid climax.

But then… things took a wildly different turn.

Back at the Emiya residence, the main crew gets ambushed by Caster.

Shrouded in a mysterious cloak, she tries to steal Saber as her own Servant.

But before the characters—or even the audience—could fully process the situation, someone crashed the party.

Enter: Gilgamesh.

From the moment he appeared, Natsu knew this nose-in-the-air man had to be the final boss.

Even if he didn’t say anything, the sheer amount of gold he wore radiated enough “main villain energy” to outclass everyone else.

It was like in The Avengers—the moment Thanos showed up, everyone knew he was the big bad. His entire vibe screamed “threat.”

And Gilgamesh? The golden, spiky-haired Servant didn’t disappoint.

His entrance was an all-out spectacle—noble phantasms raining from the sky, every explosion ringing like a war drum, and every shot triggering waves of exhilaration in the audience.

Part of the Emiya residence? Reduced to rubble.

Caster? Gone in under five minutes, turned into glitter and smoke.

And yet… the crowd only wanted to cheer.

Because when you get hit with that much light, that many explosions, and that level of style—it’s not fear you feel.

It’s hype.

And Gilgamesh’s presence?

Absolutely overwhelming. Just his first move was enough to win the hearts—and gasps—of everyone watching.

“How’s Saber supposed to beat someone like that…?”

Gilgamesh’s strength was undeniable.

Saber may be a master swordswoman, but even her skill couldn’t fully hold back the downpour of noble phantasms raining from the heavens like a divine storm.

She hadn’t even made it to Gilgamesh before collapsing to one knee, bloodied and battered from head to toe.

And yet, on the other side, Gilgamesh stood unscathed, calm and composed. He raised his hand once more, preparing to unleash another barrage of Noble Phantasms.

The shadow of death loomed over the entire protagonist team.

It was at that moment that Shirou Emiya stepped forward once again—ready to fight back with projected weapons.

But unfortunately, this wasn’t the Unlimited Blade Works route, and this Shirou’s projection skills were a far cry from that man’s silhouette.

The moment he projected Caliburn, it was shattered—along with his body—as Gilgamesh slashed him down mercilessly.

Outside the silver screen, the theater was gripped by despair. Just when it seemed like all hope was lost—Shirou’s entire body surged with magical energy.

Every magic circuit in him ignited like a current of lightning.

And then—he projected it.

An EX-rank Noble Phantasm that had long slumbered within him: Avalon.

No matter how many treasures Gilgamesh hurled, none could pierce that small, golden sheath.

Frustrated, the King of Heroes had no choice but to withdraw.

From his grand entrance to his reluctant retreat, Gilgamesh had barely been on screen for fifteen minutes.

And yet, in that short time, his image as the King of Heroes had been etched into the hearts of the audience with unforgettable precision.

Even after his departure, the theater buzzed with excitement.

Everyone was talking about him—this arrogant, radiant final boss.

A few audience members even started clapping the moment Gilgamesh was forced to retreat.

They weren’t just any audience members—they were Saber fans.

They’d had it with this golden jerk from the moment he tried to take their Saber away.

"Who does this flashy punk think he is, trying to steal our girl!?"

“…Looks like the rewrite wasn’t too bad,” Shinji murmured, nodding slightly from the back row as he watched the reactions.

The beginning of this sequence, with Caster’s ambush, was faithfully adapted from the Fate route in the game.

But the ending? That was all Shinji.

There just wasn’t enough screen time for a whole “Shirou and Saber go on a date” subplot.

So Shinji merged Gilgamesh’s two appearances into one seamless climax.

Besides, in commercial films, it’s basically a given that the male and female leads end up together after all their trials and tribulations.

No one would miss a romantic side episode—especially not when the plot had to stay tight and explosive.

Still, Shinji made sure to preserve a bit of Gilgamesh’s dignity.

When Shirou projected Avalon, Gilgamesh didn’t use Ea, and the sheath’s counterattack didn’t land a hit either.

Unlike in the game, where Gilgamesh was wounded and forced to retreat, in the film, his exit felt more like a powerful man who simply got bored and walked away.

After all, he was the final boss. Shinji couldn’t have him get one-shotted before the grand finale. That would just be a disgrace.

“He’s so cool!” a girl’s voice rang from the front row, loud enough to reach Shinji’s ears in the back. “Is he one of Johnny’s new stars?”

Shinji’s eyes lit up.

There was no denying Gilgamesh’s beauty.

After all, even Ishtar, the goddess of beauty herself, had proposed to him.

As much as Shinji hated to admit it, if we were just talking about looks… Gilgamesh probably did have the upper hand.

“…That face of his… Might be worth using.”

He patted the notebook he always carried and began mentally drafting a brand-new PR strategy.

Meanwhile, in the Tokyo screening theater…

Aoko Aozaki sat in her seat, murmuring softly:

“That Servant… Gilgamesh, was it? He looked crazy strong. Man, I’d love to fight him one day…”

“Shut up.”

This was probably the third—or was it the fourth?—time that Alice had hissed at her, fed up with being interrupted during the film.

'That’s it. I’m coming back to watch this movie alone after it’s released.’

With a deadpan expression, Alice silently made up her mind.

Back on the screen, the movie wasn’t over yet.

Gilgamesh may have withdrawn, but he hadn’t been defeated.

And Saber, the protagonist, still had one last battle to fight.

It would be king versus king—a clash of destiny waiting to explode.

As for the male protagonist, Shirou Emiya, his role in the finale was… somewhat flipped.

He ended up fulfilling the classic role of a heroine in commercial blockbusters—kidnapped by the villain and used as a hostage, waiting for Saber to come to the rescue.

Thankfully, the ever-reliable Lancer had a hero’s conscience.

Cu Chulainn turned traitor against his own Master to cover for the escape of the leads, buying them precious time.

“Heh.”

The moment he appeared again on the big screen, Cu Chulainn puffed out his chest in pride.

Look at him!

Compared to his fellow side characters, like Yan Qing—whose screen time had been trimmed to barely a quarter—and Archer, who got nothing but a farewell shot in the Throne of Heroes, Cu Chulainn was absolutely shining.

“Archer, Assassin, no need to be jealous,” he snickered, covering his mouth and flashing a grin at EMIYA and Yan Qing. “Wait for the extended cut—they’ll add your scenes back in! Hahahaha!”

“…Who even is this guy?”

“Didn’t he show up near the beginning? It feels like forever ago.”

“Seriously? Why give him screen time when we could’ve gotten more of Gilgamesh? That golden jerk was way cooler than this spandex weirdo.”

…

The audience’s murmurs in the front row instantly made Cu Chulainn’s face darken.

“Pfft—!”

Archer couldn’t help it.

After being roasted earlier by Cu, he now felt wonderfully vindicated.

“Well, at least you showed up again. Any longer and the audience really would’ve forgotten who you were.”

“Oh, shut it! You disappeared halfway through the movie!”

Cu Chulainn retaliated by locking an arm around Archer’s neck, dragging him into a wrestling hold.

“Break it up, you two,” Yan Qing sighed, trying to mediate while sneakily landing a few kicks on Cu’s leg.

What followed was a mess of tangled limbs and barely stifled laughter—a scene that, luckily, didn’t draw attention from the front rows.

Because right now, every audience member was glued to the screen.

Saber and Shirou had stormed Ryuudou Temple.

Waiting for them was the final boss duo: the King of Heroes, Gilgamesh, and the dark priest, Kirei Kotomine.

The theater fell into complete silence.

The audience held their breath, eyes wide, hearts pounding.

They all wanted to see how the protagonists would triumph—how this never-before-seen cinematic Holy Grail War would reach its conclusion.

And the director, that man named Shinji Matou, did not disappoint.

What unfolded was an utterly spectacular final showdown.

At first, Saber and Shirou didn’t stand a chance.

The entire first half was them being completely overwhelmed.

But just when all seemed lost, the two of them erupted with synchronized determination, their shared resolve igniting like twin stars.

And with Avalon, they flipped the battle on its head.

“Ex—calibur!!”

With Saber’s cry echoing like a war hymn, the golden blade of victory cleaved Gilgamesh cleanly in half.

At the same time, on the other front, Shirou—freed from the black mud by the sheath’s purifying light—plunged his dagger into the dark priest’s chest.

“…That was kinda forced.”

One audience member muttered, unimpressed by the sudden reversal.

“Their bond as Master and Servant… it’s beautiful.”

Another, clearly moved, wiped away a tear.

“Wait, magecraft can do that?”

This one came from a viewer who actually understood thaumaturgy.

Whether they thought it was cheesy or touching, everyone in the audience got the ending they’d secretly wished for:

The heroes defeated the villains.

It was the classic, emotionally satisfying climax.

A hopeful resolution.

But Shinji Matou?

He wasn’t the kind of director to give the audience exactly what they wanted.

As the Holy Grail War ended and the dawn’s light broke over Fuyuki, the time came for Saber, a Heroic Spirit, to bid her final farewell.

“Shirou…”

She whispered her Master’s name.

And then, that blue-clad knight vanished into the golden light of morning—her figure scattering into the wind with a gentle smile.