This Is My Holy Grail War [214]

Why the window?

Rider couldn’t understand that part. They could’ve just walked in through the front like normal people. Slipping in through a window like some sneaky thief—it didn’t sit right with his sense of honor.

But his Master and the Master’s teacher had insisted that any magus’s workshop was dangerous, riddled with hidden traps and bounded fields. To avoid getting caught in one, it was best to be cautious on all fronts. Supposedly, these magical barriers were tricky business—if you weren’t careful, you might get trapped inside one. It was a strong recommendation. Since the strategist had said so, Rider decided it was worth listening. In the end, he steered the chariot down a less conventional path.

“If you trust her, there’s no need to sneak through a window,” Rider remarked helpfully as they left the restaurant, reins in hand, his Master sitting at his side. “Doing that just lowers Assassin’s opinion of you. Makes it harder for me to win her over.”

“My teacher doesn’t distrust her,” Flat replied. “Assassin’s thoughts and motives are completely within our grasp. What we don’t trust… is her Master. That lunatic mage who kidnapped his own employer.”

“Lunatic?” Rider frowned in thought, recalling the young man’s face. “Didn’t seem that way to me. Looks totally normal.”

“That’s just what the rumors say,” Flat explained. “But now it seems like he was just trying to protect the head of the Kiritsuki family.”

“Protecting someone by kidnapping them?” Rider was baffled. “You mages really are strange folk.”

“That was before. Now... I don’t think he’s that crazy,” Flat admitted. “He’s actually a good person. My teacher even agreed to help him—protect someone who has nothing to do with him.”

“Nothing to do with him?” Rider asked.

“Yeah. Before he was hired, Marco had no connection to the Kiritsuki family at all,” Flat said. “I can’t really explain the exact terms of the designated seal, but you can just think of Marco as a good man. First meeting, and he’s already risking his life for a stranger.”

I like people like that, Rider thought aloud. “I hope he gets a happy ending. Though... pure-hearted people rarely last long in this world.”

It wasn’t meant to be pessimism—tragedy was just commonplace in Greek tales. He cracked the reins and drove the chariot toward the tropical jungle north of the small town. The city offered little in the way of shelter, and his Master was still unfamiliar with the area.

“Why do you say that, Rider?” Flat didn’t like the sound of it, his tone growing more serious.

“Because before you can help others, you have to help yourself first,” Rider said. “That guy… he can’t even take care of himself, and he’s out here saving strangers. Sooner or later, that kindness of his is going to get him killed—even if he’s a powerful warrior.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Didn’t you notice? That guy might look polite and mild-mannered on the outside, but deep down he’s a seasoned warrior,” Rider said firmly. “I saw the scars on his body—even if he tried to hide them.”

“I didn’t notice. He seemed kind of soft to me,” Flat said frankly.

“You’re mistaken. There’s a lion hiding behind those bright eyes,” Rider said, loosening his grip on the reins. The jungle was more humid than expected. He’d assumed it was an ordinary forest, but the soft, marshy ground told a different story. If anything, it was a swamp dressed in a forest’s clothing.

“So tell me—what were you and your teacher discussing with Assassin about ‘the Root’ and ‘magic’? You two looked like you’d seen a ghost, and your teacher even cut off contact just to investigate the Grail again.”

“The Root... that’s the lifelong goal of all magi,” Flat answered. But Rider didn’t catch even a flicker of passion in his face—none of the determination one might expect from someone chasing a dream. It wasn’t indifference, exactly, but more like a total lack of personal investment. As if he were recounting someone else’s ambitions.

“A shared dream of all mages, huh?”

“Yeah. If what Assassin said is true, then the Holy Grail might just drive every magus mad.” Ever since they’d left Assassin’s workshop, Flat hadn’t stopped muttering about it.

“Magic and the Root—words beyond this king’s comprehension,” Rider said, sticking a finger in his ear. “I’m more concerned about wishes that are within reach.”

“If you care so much about the Grail’s wishes, aren’t you at all curious about Assassin breaking the rules?” Flat asked.

“You’ll get yourself killed, kid. Some things, even when you know the truth, you pretend you don’t,” Rider said. “If Assassin refuses to talk, there’s definitely something fishy going on. The answer’s already right there—you don’t need to dig any deeper.”

He spoke with uncharacteristic gravity. Rider feared that Flat’s rigid nature would one day get him burned.

“We don’t have proof, and she turned down my offer. But even that tells us something—she didn’t reject it outright. Which means, there’s still a chance,” Rider mused, rubbing his chin. “Besides, the fact that she hesitated means she’s aware of my hand. She knows exactly what I’m capable of.”

“My teacher said your compatibility with Assassin is extremely high.”

“You still don’t get it, do you, kid?” Rider said. “Assassin doesn’t have a wish of her own. She only seeks victory. A Servant who isn’t fighting over your wish—of course she gets along with everyone.”

“I had a long talk with your teacher,” Rider said, his voice lowering with thoughtfulness. “What would happen if two versions of me were summoned? Or if it was an Assassin? In countless possibilities, we couldn’t find a reason to be enemies. But what happened today… that was outside all our expectations. Someone beat us to the punch.”

Setting up a workshop deep in the jungle—even if Rider didn’t understand magecraft, this place still felt... rudimentary.

“So, kid—what’s your plan for tonight?” Rider looked around, then asked, “Don’t tell me you’re planning to camp out here?”

“I’ve got a plan,” Flat replied immediately. “While my teacher’s busy, I want to go into the city and find a Dead Apostle.”

“A Dead Apostle?” Rider frowned. Lord El-Melloi II had given him a detailed explanation of those creatures.

“Yeah,” Flat nodded. “The books say they think like humans, but everyone tells me they’re just monsters. Still, I believe a soul shouldn’t be judged by birth. I truly believe... even among Dead Apostles, there are good people.”

“Being good doesn’t guarantee a good end,” Rider repeated the phrase once again. “No matter how much sympathy you have, Dead Apostles are still enemies of mankind.”

“Then it’s settled! Let’s go check it out tonight!” Flat declared without hesitation. He had none of his teacher’s caution or fear—his curiosity burned bright, and he made decisions all on his own.

To Rider, Flat’s personality was far too straightforward—brave to the point of recklessness.

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This is a fan translation of 这是我的圣杯之战 by 向希望祈祷. All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!