This Is My Holy Grail War [213]

"Assassin's Master?" Rider eyed Saber with evident curiosity and surprise. "But isn't a Master only allowed to summon one Servant?"

"Then this is a violation of the rules." On the laptop screen, Lord El-Melloi II's expression turned grim.

But Assassin showed not the slightest concern. She knew better than anyone—violations were a staple of the Holy Grail War. A war without rule-bending would be the true anomaly. And surely Waver knew that. She’d seen too many such cases. “Violation? Do you have proof?” Assassin replied coolly. “Saber is our ally. She’s just here for a meal. We reserved this entire restaurant, and the food’s excellent.”

“We could listen to her Master’s voice—that should make things clear,” Rider’s Master, the boy named Flat, suggested. “Or better yet, why don’t we meet face to face?”

“You’re sure you want to hear Saber’s Master’s voice? It might be... dangerous.” Assassin’s tone was ice-cold.

“A friend of our ally is our friend too, isn’t it? No harm in getting acquainted early.” Flat was persistent.

“If they don’t want to show themselves, don’t force it,” Rider said, patting Flat’s head—and making no move to remove his hand afterward. “Phew~” The kid resisted with all his might, face flushed with effort, but no ordinary human could budge a Servant. Rider’s hand didn’t so much as twitch. “Let it go, my little Master. If they don’t want to show themselves, that’s their right.”

As soon as those words landed, Assassin noticed the faint shift on Waver’s face through the screen. He looked like he wanted to rise from his chair—but calmed himself almost instantly.

“Rider?” Lord El-Melloi II called across the screen, his voice steady. He seemed confused by Rider’s actions, but didn’t object.

“Enough of that. Saber—since you’re Assassin’s king, that means you’re the host here, doesn’t it?” Rider turned back to Saber. “A guest of honor’s arrived, so surely there’s food and drink waiting? I’ve been dying for a drink. This little runt isn’t even of age—they won’t let him buy booze. I go to get some, and he won’t even hand it over. Outrageous.”

“You call that getting booze? You robbed it!” Flat couldn’t help but grumble.

“I didn’t take it, did I? Don’t go wasting a Command Seal over that.”

Waver might hesitate, but Assassin could tell—this fiery little Master, Flat, might actually fling a Command Seal at him. He was far more impulsive than Waver had been. He didn’t like backing down.

“You destroy our building and then demand food like it’s your right?” Saber’s presence flared. A biting surge of magical energy burst from her, laced with killing intent.

“Oh, come now. Look,” Rider gestured at the shattered window. “You’ve got a gorgeous open-air balcony now. Let’s in all the morning light.” He even had the nerve to stand with hands on hips and admire the view.

The morning breeze slipped through, tugging at the edge of Assassin’s cloak. The Lesser Grail clung to her side, trembling from the cold. Yes—it was a bitter wind today.

Master, Assassin spoke through their link, I know Rider well. If you give the word, I promise—none of them will leave here alive.

But I want to leave her an escape route, Marco replied gently. Even if I fail, I want her to live without fear. Besides, if Rider becomes our ally, we’d have a better chance against Lancer and Archer, right? Can you really stand up to that out-of-class Noble Phantasm? He repeated his worry. Even if we win, the price could be too high.

“Oh, that’s right!” Rider suddenly smacked his palm as if remembering. “It’s daytime, isn’t it? We can’t fight you now—it’s against the rules.” He spoke with a boisterous ease that would’ve once fooled Assassin into thinking Iskandar was just a simple fool. But now, she knew better. He was sharp.

It was Waver who was the slightly naïve one. Or perhaps just inexperienced. The title of Lord earned him a certain deference from magi—but the Holy Grail War followed no such decorum. If Rider hadn’t stepped in, this could easily have turned into a daytime battle.

And a one-versus-two fight, no less. On a noisy chariot that gave away his position, against an opponent who knew him intimately.

Rider had sensed the tension in the air immediately, and steered the conversation elsewhere, expertly defusing the confrontation before it could begin.

“That rule was made by magi,” he added after a beat.

“Magi aren’t good people,” Assassin interjected.

“Not good?” Rider looked puzzled. “I don’t know much about magi, but my vassal doesn’t care about the Grail—he only wants the glory of victory. Isn’t that a sign of nobility? A profession that values honor more than personal wishes—how can they not be good people?”

Pfft.

For some reason, Assassin laughed. “If a wish-granting artifact really existed, no magus would step aside for honor. They’d be more ravenous than demons from hell.”

“Magi have a bad rep, huh?” Rider scratched his head. He clearly hadn’t grasped what magi were really like yet. Waver and his students were far removed from traditional magi, and that caused quite a disconnect.

“Terrible, actually. It’s not unheard of for them to trade their own children for power.” Assassin replied coolly. “You might get a few outliers—but most of them don’t end well.”

“Maybe you should ask Waver—Lord El-Melloi II. He should know magi well, right?”

“My brother really is a curious case,” the one to respond this time wasn’t Waver, but Reines.

“Why even join such a twisted ritual? What’s so appealing about remote magic in some backwater? My brother threw his life away for it. And this ‘wish-granting artifact’? A sham, obviously.” She added, “The Grail isn’t all-powerful. For us, anything it could do is already achievable with magic.”

Pathetic, Assassin thought, and pitiful. “You really don’t understand the true purpose of the Grail,” she said aloud.

“To us, the Grail is just a magic power source,” Reines replied innocently, though Assassin suspected she was fishing for information. Still, she had no reason to hide it. She listened carefully to Reines’ voice. “First it was some miracle in a remote Eastern city—now they’ve dragged it to a small, irrelevant town in the Americas.”

“Yes,” Assassin said, and for the first time, her calm demeanor cracked. “The Grail is merely a hole—an opening to the Root. And your kind—these modern, incompetent magi—will never reach it.” She hadn’t expected to feel anger, but when Reines spoke of the Grail with such disdain, something inside her stirred.

Assassin had never believed the Grail was something good. But if she was willing to give everything for it, then how dare a modern magus look down on it?

Her anger faded quickly. After weighing the consequences, she realized there was no need to keep the truth of the Third Magic—the Heaven’s Feel—and the Root a secret.

The rules of the Grail War wouldn’t change. Seven Servants meant seven Servants. Even if the Clock Tower tried to bribe all of them before the ritual began, the Grail would simply summon seven others.

The Holy Grail War could not be controlled. The true combatants were always the Servants. For all their posturing, the modern magi were nothing more than cannon fodder.

The Root! The ultimate goal of every magus. They would sacrifice anything to glimpse its mysteries.

As soon as Assassin spoke the words, silence fell.

Marco was stunned. Waver’s lip twitched. Reines’ pupils constricted sharply.

But the shock passed quickly—after all, such a claim still needed proof.

“The Holy Grail War is a ritual to complete the Third Magic, Heaven’s Feel—and use its power to step beyond the boundaries of the world,” Assassin declared bluntly, revealing the Grail’s deepest secret.

“Magic?” Reines echoed.

“Yes. The Third Magic. A path to the Root,” Assassin confirmed.

“How is it completed?” Reines asked, almost reflexively. And Assassin, perhaps carelessly—or perhaps deliberately—answered her.

“When a Servant returns to the Throne of Heroes, a hole opens in this world leading outward. If, instead of making a wish, you use the Grail’s power to fix that hole and stabilize the flow of mana, then you’ll witness a road to the Root. Of course, that’s only theory. Whether one could truly locate the Root, which lies apart from even the Throne, is another matter.” She said it so lightly—yet what she’d just disclosed was the culmination of generations of magical ambition.

“So simple, really. And in the process, the Third Magic is completed.”

It was a cruel sort of pleasure. She wanted to see it—whether the magi would truly go mad for the Third Magic. For the Root.

But like the wish-granting machine it posed as, few magi actually believed the Grail of Fuyuki—or this relocated system—could really fulfill anything. Whether it would stir up chaos or not, even Assassin couldn’t predict.

But to her, it no longer mattered. The Grail War was already in motion—and it would be over soon.

Seven days sounded long, but the Clock Tower had no chance of derailing the ritual in that short time. Unless they waited for the next Grail War... but who knew what that would bring?

The Einzbern family had reached their end. Whether the Grail could even activate remained uncertain. Even if the same side managed to summon seven Servants and continue the war—the Grail War would go on.

And whatever happened, none of it would affect Assassin anymore.

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T/N: damn all the kings are here if only they remembered...

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!