The field was eerily quiet after such an exhausting fight. Rubble surrounded you both, Gilgamesh still boasting about his triumphant result. His chest was inflated with pride as he laughed and insulted the other party, long retreated.

"Let us go, mongrel. I'm in a good mood tonight." He says, glancing over at you. It's only then he notices you're still lying against a concrete wall, clutching your stomach. His smile falters, ever so slightly. It's only then he sees the dagger piercing your flesh.