Of course she 'wouldn't mind' seeing a city as great as Uruk. Gilgamesh was sure none of the tales of glorious Uruk were lies. It was the finest city this world had to offer, of course by virtue of having the greatest king the world would ever know. Given what he saw of her now, they certainly had use of her. Perhaps she even had a place in the royal court, where he was certain to place the wine-maker, Siduri. Now then, onto the eyes feared by the bearer of their sockets. She survived a beheading caused by those things, apparently. No, that wasn't it. She'd been killed, she said so herself, yet here she was. He definitely had to bring her along now, even if only to learn the secrets she knew. "Hmm," he muttered, scowl on his face. Alas, it was torn away when Rider finally discarded that ridiculous blindfold of hers. He replaced it with his usual smug grin while staring into a very interesting pair of optics indeed. Those were Mystic Eyes, as he recalled. It had been many, many years since he'd seen a pair of those, even different in their purpose. There was no petrification coming the king's way. That heavy pressure was more like a taste of home, and nothing compared to the sensation of passing through Mashu's gate. While his own gaze stared back into hers, Gilgamesh stepped forward. He would take hold of Rider's face by chin and cheek, tilting away and having a closer look at those amethyst orbs. "How wasteful. Eyes the likes of fine jewels, such a rarity among mongrels, and you dare leave them covered."

Berserker's growth was occurring with greater rapidity over time. When he landed, he had triple his original weight, causing the ground at his feet to crumble under the landing. An exhale produced more steam. It seemed almost as if there was a strong heat building up within his body, though perhaps there wasn't at all. Nimble though he remained, as the approach of Saber was met by the use of his massive bow as if it were a melee weapon. In response to a flurry of slashes, there was a flurry of parries. What a shame. Had he come equipped with a proper bladed weapon, he may have been reminded subconsciously of the flying sparks brought about by such magnificent combat. Only one hand was used to perform these parries, but he wouldn't have been much of a Berserker if he didn't remain on the offensive. A stomp drove his foot deep into the ground during the clash. Something had to be under there, right? Right! His foot emerged along with the long root of a tree, which Berserker's free hand snatched and pulled. Of course, the tree was tugged from its resting place nearby as a result. What was he to do with it? Well, it was just a thing. As a simple thing, it was a weapon in the Berserker's hand to be swung at the small girl─ whatever he required to strike his target down.