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The golden king was leisurely shedding all his burdens, strolling through the luxurious shopping streets of Milan.
Indeed, he hadn't learned a single bit of Italian, but having the 'Thousand Words' (Sengoku) as a God Slayer, he wasn't afraid of communication problems with the locals in Milan.
Ruthlessly throwing all the aftermath work onto one of his pathetic silver-haired knights, he, on the contrary, was boredly appreciating the myriad human forms in Milan. Cruelly saying, 'If even such matters bother the King, then what is your reason for being a subject?', this excessively arrogant king, however, didn't show the slightest hint of anger or concern towards the truly innocent and upright young girl he bullied that day.
After all, he also believed that the girl would definitely do her best not to disappoint him, so he naturally boldly delegated power. After all, since he acknowledged the other party as his subject, he would absolutely not doubt the subject's loyalty. Such a trivial amount of magnanimity was, of course, something a king should possess.
And at this moment, unlike ordinary people who would admire Milan as a beautiful metropolis, the King of Heroes went to the dark places. No matter where, there would always be places where filth and grime collected. Listening to the faint, helpless wails coming from those tiny cages, or the resentful, utterly irrational screams and laughter, Gilgamesh's lips curved into a slightly malicious smile. The more it was like this, the more human malice, the more vivid, the more captivating it was.
Looking at those trash-like scum, shamelessly venting humanity's most basic desires, its most fundamental malice, Gilgamesh's face revealed a hint of playful amusement. Whether it was coercion, or rape, or something else even worse, at this moment it was nothing more than material that brought pleasure to the King of Heroes.
From his high and mighty posture, he looked down upon these humans shamelessly unleashing their malice. Then, when it reached its peak, he casually shot out a treasure, completely eradicating them from this world.
Whatever it was, all he sought was mere pleasure. Casually cleaning up the scum in his territory was simply a byproduct. Compared to the hypocrisy hidden beneath false smiles, occasionally appreciating this most basic evil was also a pleasant enjoyment.
However, what attracted him most at the moment was something else. It was a fellow utterly unrelated to abundance, standing on the broken tiles of an ancient building like an owl, faintly exuding a divine aura, and an incomparably indifferent divine expression.
Without a doubt, that was the Untamed God.
"How interesting. You clearly know of this King's existence, yet you appear so foolishly within this King's territory?" He spoke indifferently, the arrogance in his words completely revealing itself without reservation.
Immediately after, his spirit materialized.
Faint golden dust permeated the air, then the King of Heroes also transformed into a spirit and sped towards the location of the Untamed God.
And at this moment, far away, not yet knowing that the God Slayer and the Untamed God disaster were about to meet, those knights were still engaged in an extremely dry discussion. "So, in any case, the territory belonging to the King of Swords, located in Southern Europe, we must take it."
The fairy girl with dazzling silver hair, dressed in a light blue knight's formal attire, spoke to the fellow in front of her with an unquestionable tone.
At this moment, everyone was incomparably serious. Even if they held immense power, the person before them was the subject of that tyrannical king. Although Gilgamesh had not been a God Slayer for long, his achievements in slaying gods, in networking with gods, and his unparalleled strength made them all admire him.
"Yes, as per the King's will." Those knights involuntarily responded in unison, bowing humbly.
Perhaps, in their eyes, Lancelot was just a young genius, not yet worthy of such treatment from them. But coupled with Gilgamesh, they had no choice but to properly reflect on their attitude.
"Then, Sir Palomides, the association in Spain, shall be handed over to you to manage."
Lancelot solemnly gave the order, but her tone still carried a trace of subtle respect. After all, no matter what, even if her current strength was completely capable of being on par with Palomides, she still held sincere respect for such a powerful individual.
"Yes, Lady Lancelot." Palomides responded indifferently, but a hint of helplessness appeared on his handsome face, like a marble statue.
He listened to that incomparably clear voice, and couldn't help but sigh at the change in this young girl's strength. Indeed, just a few days ago, this young girl was far inferior to himself, merely relying on the convenience brought by her unique treasure.
But now, having personally slain a young girl from the Mediterranean, even without gaining power, her strength had steadily caught up with his, who had endured decades of arduous training. Such unfairness, such reality, made him let out a bitter laugh.
"Lady Shahrazad Milites, please take charge of the association in Portugal."
Lancelot said this, but her voice still carried a trace of imperceptible trembling. "You don't even want to call me Master anymore, Lancelot, you truly are heartless."
Shahrazad said with such a lost expression. As for whether she was truly lost, that was unknown.
However, Lancelot continued to announce missions, ignoring the resentment of this woman.
In the suburbs of Milan, the proudest, most ancient king met the delicate Untamed God.
As the golden light dust condensed, Gilgamesh appeared before the Untamed God. The two were perhaps less than half a meter apart, but for these individuals who had long surpassed everything mundane, no matter how far the distance, if they truly decided to fight, it would be meaningless.
Gilgamesh looked down from his superior position, with a slightly disdainful expression, at the Untamed God in her youthful form.
She wore a thin, unknown sweater and a mini-skirt. Her black thigh-high stockings fully displayed her extremely delicate leg shape. On her shimmering, moonlight-like silver hair was a woven hat that looked extremely childish and cute.
Then, as a gentle breeze flowed through the city, her dancing silver short hair, carrying an incomparable beauty, radiated a faint, never dazzling, soft silver light. At this moment, she was staring intently at the arrogant king before her with her jet-black eyes, as deep as the black night.
Then, her thin, pale pink lips slowly uttered somewhat antiquated words.
"This one does not intend to fight you, God Slayer."