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(General P.O.V)
Transit through the Crossroads was supposed to be controlled.
Loth had stabilized the rift himself. He had chosen the destination, anchored it with his Aura Sense, and stepped through with full awareness of the transition process.
That was why the interference stood out immediately.
Midway through the passage, something foreign pressed against the golden rift.
Loth felt it before he saw it—structured energy, layered with intent. Not Chaos. Not wild. This was ordered, deliberate, and built on rules.
A system.
Magic.
Thin lines of light appeared around him, forming a circular pattern that didn't belong to his rift. Symbols etched themselves into existence, rotating slowly as they tried to lock onto him.
A summoning framework.
"…No," Loth said flatly.
The system reacted.
The symbols brightened, shifting from observation to enforcement. Threads of energy lashed out, aiming not at his body, but at something deeper.
His soul.
A contract began to form.
Binding clauses. Authority structures. Hierarchies.
Loth understood it instantly.
This world didn't just summon power—it bound it.
Servants. Contracts. Masters.
He was being categorized.
Claimed.
The threads wrapped around him, attempting to anchor his existence to an external will.
Loth raised a hand.
And slapped them away.
Not metaphorically.
Physically.
His Anodite energy flared, burning through the binding threads as if they were nothing more than cobwebs. The symbols destabilized, as the system struggled to process what it was dealing with.
"Wrong target," he muttered.
The summoning circle adjusted.
If it couldn't bind him directly, it would restrict entry.
The rift ahead narrowed. The space compressed, layers of magical resistance stacking on top of each other to block his manifestation.
A denial.
Loth paused for a fraction of a second.
Then his expression hardened.
"…You think I need permission?"
His core ignited.
Instead of pushing against the resistance, Loth changed approach.
He absorbed it.
The Osmosian aspect of his body activated instinctively, drawing in the foreign magic as it tried to block him. At the same time, his Anodite nature broke it down, analyzing and restructuring the energy in real time.
The system faltered.
Its own power was being repurposed.
Assimilated.
The barrier weakened, then collapsed entirely as Loth forced his way through, dragging the remains of the summoning interference with him.
The world snapped into focus.
Cold air hit him first.
Snow.
Then came the ground beneath his feet—solid stone, etched with a glowing magic circle that was still active, though now unstable from the forced entry.
Loth stood at its center.
He blinked once, taking in his surroundings.
A large castle loomed nearby, its structure old but well-maintained. The architecture was European, heavy stone construction with defensive design.
Snow covered the grounds.
"…Einzbern," Loth said quietly.
Recognition came fast.
Wrong world for a casual visit.
Right world for a war.
His attention shifted.
Three immediate factors registered.
First—
Annabeth.
She stood a few meters away, posture tense, positioned defensively in front of a red-haired boy. Her stance was controlled, calculated. She hadn't attacked yet—but she was ready to. Loth noticed the lines on her face and the steely eyes suggesting they'd been through a lot.
Second—
The boy behind her. Teenager. Injured. Civilian-level presence, but with traces of magical circuits active within him.
Important.
Third—
Percy.
Loth's head snapped toward the battlefield.
Percy was losing.
Not outright—but he was being overwhelmed.
His opponent stood at a distance, unmoving, observing with visible disdain. Golden armor. Confident posture. Absolute control over the battlefield.
Behind him, space itself distorted.
Portals—dozens of them—opened in the air, each one glowing gold. Weapons filled them. Swords, spears, chains—every single one aimed downward.
Then they fired.
Hundreds of projectiles rained toward Percy.
Loth didn't think.
He moved.
A single step.
Then he was gone.
To the outside world, it looked like a flash—pink energy cutting across the battlefield faster than the eye could track.
Mid-motion, his body shifted.
Bones restructured. Muscles expanded. Energy layered over matter.
Blitzwolfer.
But not the unstable version from before.
This one settled cleanly.
Perfect integration.
The Osmosian body adapted instantly to the fusion with Blitz, stabilizing the transformation as if it had always belonged.
Loth arrived between Percy and the incoming barrage.
Claws extended.
He slashed.
Not wildly. Precisely.
Each strike intercepted multiple weapons at once. Metal collided with reinforced energy, deflecting trajectories, shattering weaker constructs, redirecting others into the ground.
The air filled with the sound of impacts.
Explosions.
Fragments of weapons embedded into the snow, the stone, the surrounding terrain.
Loth didn't move from his position.
By the time the barrage ended, he was still standing there—claws smoking from the friction and heat.
Silence followed.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then—
"...About damn time," Percy said from behind him, breathing hard.
Annabeth's voice came next, sharp with disbelief.
"Loth?"
Loth didn't turn immediately.
His eyes were locked on the man in gold.
The Servant. Not just any Servant but the only one who could claim superiority over all others. The King of Heroes himself, Gilgamesh.
Loth exhaled slowly.
"…Yeah," he said. "I'm finally here."
Percy didn't move immediately.
For a second, he just stared at Loth's back—at the stabilized Blitzwolfer form, at the controlled stance, at the fact that the chaos of the battlefield had been stopped in a single motion.
Then the realization hit.
"...No way," Percy said, half-laughing, half-breathless. "You look different but it's actually you. You're really here."
"Yeah," Loth replied with a smirk. "Took a detour."
That was enough.
Percy stepped back, rolling his shoulders despite the fatigue and damage. "Good. Because I'm done playing tag with this guy."
There was a pause.
Then, with deliberate ease, Percy added—
"He's all yours."
That single sentence carried across the battlefield.
The man in gold reacted instantly.
Gilgamesh's expression darkened—not with confusion, but with insult.
His red eyes sharpened.
"You dare," he said, voice low but carrying authority, "to turn your back on a king?"
The air behind him rippled.
Golden portals opened again.
But this time, they didn't aim at Loth.
They aimed at Percy.
A punishment.
Disrespect demanded correction.
The weapons fired.
Loth moved before Percy could.
Not forward.
Up.
He raised a hand.
And space behind him fractured—not gold, but pink.
Dozens of portals snapped open in the air, each one unstable for a fraction of a second before locking into position. Inside them—
Weapons.
Not identical.
But similar.
Swords, spears, and constructs formed from condensed Anodite energy, shaped from memory and analysis.
A mirror.
A counterfeit.
The projectiles from both sides collided mid-air.
Golden Metal met Pink energy.
Explosions followed.
The shockwaves spread outward, scattering snow and debris across the battlefield.
Percy shielded his face. Annabeth tightened her stance near the summoning circle.
For the first time—
Gilgamesh paused.
Not because of the attack.
Because of what he was seeing.
"…Imitation," he said slowly.
More portals opened behind him.
Larger this time.
More weapons.
"Cheap," he continued, voice turning colder, "worthless imitation."
Loth finally stepped forward.
"Maybe," he replied. "But they work."
He snapped his fingers.
His portals responded instantly.
The next volley launched.
This time, Loth didn't just intercept.
He attacked.
Pink projectiles surged forward, weaving through Gilgamesh's golden barrage with irregular trajectories. Some collided directly. Others slipped through gaps, forcing Gilgamesh to shift his stance slightly.
Not much.
But enough to register.
The exchange escalated.
Golden and pink filled the air in overlapping streams of firepower.
Neither side held back.
Gilgamesh increased output—more portals, faster firing sequences, heavier weapons.
Loth adapted in real time.
His Aura Sense tracked patterns.
His Osmosian nature analyzed energy composition.
His Anodite core supplied the output.
Every second, his constructs improved—more stable, more refined, more accurate.
It wasn't a perfect copy of Gate of Babylon.
But it was evolving.
Below, Percy whistled. "Okay… that's new."
Annabeth didn't respond immediately.
She was watching the details.
"The portals aren't identical," she said quietly. "They're constructed. Adjusted. He's not copying—he's interpreting."
Percy blinked. "That supposed to make me feel better?"
"It should," she replied. "Because he's keeping up with the strongest Servant."
"Oh." Percy blinked. "Loth's really leveled up huh?"
That alone was the problem.
Gilgamesh didn't tolerate equals.
His expression shifted again.
Annoyance.
Then irritation.
Then something colder.
"Enough."
The word carried weight.
The portals behind him slowed.
Then, one by one, they began to close.
Not in retreat.
In preparation.
A different space opened behind him.
Not multiple.
One.
Larger than the rest.
He reached into it.
And pulled.
The weapon that emerged was not like the others.
It didn't shine.
It distorted.
A spiraled blade, segmented and rotating slowly, as if space itself struggled to exist around it.
The moment it appeared—
The battlefield changed.
Loth felt it instantly.
His Aura Sense reacted before his mind did.
Warning.
Danger.
Not physical.
Conceptual.
"…That's not normal," Percy muttered.
"No," Annabeth said, still shielding Shiro. "It's not."
Loth's eyes narrowed.
He recognized the pattern—not the weapon itself, but what it represented.
A God-level construct.
Authority.
Finality.
Gilgamesh rested the weapon against his shoulder, watching Loth now with something closer to interest than anger.
"You've entertained me," he said. "For a mongrel."
The spiraled blade began to rotate faster.
Space around it warped slightly.
"Be honored."
Loth's stance shifted.
He exhaled once.
His aura flared.
Behind him, a faint outline formed—a familiar presence he hadn't needed to call since the Crossroads.
"Alright Blue," he breathed. "Guess we're doing this."
His energy spiked.
The ground beneath his feet cracked slightly from the pressure.
He was about to escalate.
To stop holding back.
To call on something stronger.
Then—
Gilgamesh stopped.
The weapon stilled.
The distortion faded.
The pressure lifted just enough to be noticeable.
Silence returned.
Loth didn't move.
"…What?" Percy said.
Gilgamesh looked at Loth for a long second.
Then he scoffed.
"Not worth it."
The weapon vanished back into the portal.
The remaining constructs disappeared.
The golden distortions in the air closed one by one.
Gilgamesh turned.
"Know your place, mongrel," he said without looking back. "You stand only because I allow it."
A final portal opened behind him.
Before stepping through, he added—
"And pray we do not meet again when I am less… merciful."
Then he was gone.
Just like that.
The battlefield fell quiet.
Snow drifted again.
The tension didn't disappear immediately.
It lingered.
Loth stood still for a few seconds, watching the space where Gilgamesh had been.
Then his aura dimmed.
The portals behind him closed.
His form stabilized back to human as the immediate threat passed.
Behind him—
Percy let out a long breath. "Yeah… I hate that guy."
Loth glanced back slightly.
"…You fought him alone?"
Percy shrugged. "Was working on it."
Annabeth walked closer, eyes still sharp, analyzing Loth rather than the aftermath.
"You held him off," she said. "And he chose to disengage."
Loth didn't look satisfied.
"He didn't fight seriously," he replied. "That weapon—he was about to escalate."
Percy groaned. "Don't tell me that."
Loth turned fully now, his expression more grounded.
"Doesn't matter," he said. "We'll deal with him later."
Then he added, more quietly—
"For now, we regroup. I missed you guys. There's so much I want to tell you."
His friends looked at him with the same eagerness, Annabeth forcing them into a hug. Loth didn't mind the warm feeling in his chest. Yeah it felt good to see them again.