This Is My Holy Grail War [186]

"Hu~" A deep breath in, a slow exhale. Even in spiritual form, Saber could still sense the air of this world.

Her body was brimming with mana, filling her to the point where even breathing felt smoother. The surging power coursing through her was exhilarating—this new Master of hers had exceptional aptitude, perhaps even comparable to Tohsaka Rin.

An endless tide of mana churned within her, and for a moment, Saber felt as though she could swallow the world whole.

Inhale…

Greedily, she drew in the air, feeling the mana flow through her. Saber stood atop a streetlamp, gazing into the distance from her elevated vantage point. Though the view from here was not particularly expansive, it allowed her to spot the shadows lurking within the night.

The power surging in her veins made her less restrained in her use of mana. She dissolved into spiritual form, retreating into the darkness. With the perceptive clarity of her [Pure Eyes], Saber could pierce through the night with ease.

There were many agents from the Church, moving swiftly through the streets and alleys. These Executors were incredibly busy—though they were ruthless warriors, they had an undeniable knack for handling crises.

Their mission was clear: conceal anything beyond human comprehension, minimize exposure as much as possible—though they weren’t so foolish as to erase all traces completely.

The Holy Church doesn’t have enough manpower. That was Saber’s conclusion.

Still, their actions were enough to mislead ordinary people, keeping them from interpreting the remnants of battle as anything supernatural.

The black robes of the Executors obscured their weary faces, but Saber could see them clearly—each one, hidden beneath the moonlight, looking utterly exhausted.

Men and women alike, with the cross of Christ hanging over their chests, though in varying colors—proof that their uniforms were not entirely standardized. They had likely come from different places, yet tonight, they all shared a common mission.

Saber’s keen eyes narrowed. "My new Master, don’t you have anything to say to them?" These overworked Executors were running themselves ragged.

“Hmm…” Naskia hesitated for a moment before responding, "That’s their duty." Clearly, this new Master of Saber’s had no intention of offering any apologies.

A long procession of terracotta warriors formed a winding dragon, marching from the eastern edge of the street toward the distant western horizon, vanishing into the clouds. A faint current of mana rippled through the earth—perhaps, by tomorrow morning, the headlines would feature yet another sensational story. A film production, perhaps, with an army of extras dressed as terracotta soldiers en route to their filming location.

The night had only just begun, yet the air was eerily still.

Lancer and Archer had tested the waters earlier, but neither pushed further. The deafening explosion from before had drawn everyone’s attention—including Saber’s. At the very least, she now knew Lancer’s true name.

Yet, beyond that, not a single Servant had stepped forward. For a moment, it felt as though the chaos of the Holy Grail War had vanished—every Master and Servant had withdrawn into hiding.

That’s only natural. Assassin has yet to be eliminated. Even after taking down Berserker, Saber had no intention of being the one to stand in the open.

"There won’t be any more battles tonight." Saber was certain of her judgment and sent a message to Naskia through their link. "I’m heading to the workshop. North, the oak grove."

"North? That far? You haven’t even met my allies yet—Caster and the others are still—" Naskia’s reply made Saber frown. She had no intention of standing on the same side as Caster. There was no need for more than one mage among the Servants.

"Time is short. I need to build a new workshop." Saber cut her off before she could finish.

"Honestly, you’re more like a Caster than a Saber," Naskia muttered, sighing. "A warrior’s blade, yet you act like a magus."

She had guessed correctly.

"Does that bother you?" Saber wasn’t fooled by her words—if anything, the more adept a Servant was at concealing their abilities, the more a magus would favor them.

"No. If anything, I prefer it this way. But you’re wary of everyone—including me. You haven’t communicated with me at all." There was a hint of frustration in Naskia’s voice, but Saber had no intention of changing.

"I already have a workshop in the city. Why do we have to move?" She seemed genuinely confused.

"Your workshop, built with your level of magecraft, is inadequate against Servants. And the location is poor—there’s not enough mana in the leyline to construct a proper temple." Saber’s words were cutting, like a sharp-tongued elder mocking a child’s inadequacies. She tore apart Naskia’s carefully crafted foundation, dismissing it as utterly worthless.

"You—" Naskia wanted to argue, but the words caught in her throat. She had witnessed Saber’s magecraft firsthand—it was nothing short of extraordinary.

Among magi her age, Naskia was undoubtedly a prodigy. The sheer volume of mana within her was something even Saber found satisfactory. Which meant she knew, deep down, that Saber was right.

"Don’t be so quick to get upset. Would a magus from the Age of Gods ever deceive you?" Saber’s voice brimmed with confidence as she spoke. As she did, her form shifted—transforming into Medea. The elegant robes of a magus draped over her as she gently cradled [Durandal], now sheathed within [Avalon]’s embrace.

"Fine. I’ll trust you for now," Naskia conceded with a sigh. "But now, can you finally tell me your true name?"

True name?

Saber heard the familiar question once again and fell silent.

Should she tell the truth? Naskia probably wouldn’t believe it. Then what should she say? Fabricate another identity? If so, whose name would be best? She pondered, and strangely, a particular name surfaced in her mind—Morgan.

Saber shook her head. After much contemplation, she finally decided to tell the truth.

"I have forgotten my name." She didn’t use their link to communicate, but instead, murmured softly to the silver moon above.

Through their contract, this wistful statement reached Naskia, met only with silence from her new Master.

"You don’t believe me, do you?" Saber paused before continuing. "But it’s the truth—I am a Servant who has forgotten my past."

"That’s fine."

Saber was stunned—Naskia believed her?

"At least you haven’t forgotten everything. You are still the strongest Servant in this Holy Grail War, Saber!"

"Perhaps," Saber mused. "If given ample mana, I could end this war in a single night."

She wasn’t boasting—this was a conclusion drawn from countless battles, from measuring herself against Gilgamesh. She could defeat a Lancer-class Karna with absolute certainty. And if she established a fully realized workshop, she could even go head-to-head with Archer Gilgamesh.

After participating in multiple Holy Grail Wars, Saber had a clear understanding of her own power. Many heroes had crossed her path, and those experiences had transformed her—from an insecure mortal to a confident Heroic Spirit.

Standing atop the streetlamp, the witch dissolved into a fluttering butterfly, its wings shimmering with violet light as it drifted toward the northern oak grove.

"But this Holy Grail War… it’s still too early to say."

A whisper of laughter echoed through the air as her lingering mana dispersed into nothingness, leaving behind not even a trace.

"Is that even possible?!" Only Naskia’s incredulous voice remained, reverberating through the quiet night.

---

That night passed in silence, with everyone lying in wait within the shadows. Saber, too, had found a new workshop, though it was located a fair distance from the city. Still along the coast, but much farther north. Blanché’s options for leyline nodes were limited, leaving only the desolate oak grove.

By morning, the foundation of the new temple was complete, and Saber had also gathered the remains of her former Master. Now, her new Master had stepped into this newly built sanctuary, but Saber still regarded her with a trace of wariness. Naskia had only just become her Master—Saber was unsure if she should trust her fully just yet.

The leyline beneath the northern oak grove was vast and brimming with mana, but its distance from the city center was significant. For that reason, Saber didn’t see her new Master again until daylight.

“You actually believed what I said yesterday?”

Still in the guise of a witch, Saber’s voice carried a faint amusement. Her [A-rank Divine Words] made constructing the workshop far more efficient. “I didn’t think any Master would believe it.” She stood calmly on the narrow mountain path, waiting for her Master’s reply.

“Of course not. Ending the Holy Grail War in a single night is absurd.”

Naskia shivered from the cold. The farther north they went, the lower the temperature dropped. Even as a native Russian, she couldn’t withstand the biting Arctic chill. Snow still clung to the landscape, half-melted drifts turning the path into a muddy mess.

“That’s not what I was asking,” Saber corrected. “I meant about me forgetting my true name.”

“Hmm… I didn’t believe it at first. But now, I do.” Naskia hesitated for a moment. “We’re partners, aren’t we?”

Beneath the hood of her cloak, Saber’s keen eyes studied Naskia intently. Outwardly, she made no movement, but in truth, she had been closely observing her Master’s expressions all along.

“Yes, and partners shouldn’t keep secrets.”

Suddenly, Saber’s lips curved into a sly, witch-like smile. “You do know the flaw of [Command Seals], don’t you?”

“What… flaw?” Naskia was visibly confused.

“[Command Seals] may be a product of the Holy Grail’s system, but they’re still subject to a Servant’s [Magic Resistance].” Saber saw it as necessary to tell her Master this—not just as a warning, but also to ensure cooperation.

“What are you getting at?” Naskia still didn’t grasp the gravity of the situation.

“You only have a single [Command Seal] left. That’s not enough to enforce an order on me. My [Magic Resistance] is A-rank—I can completely resist the mana of one [Command Seal].”

Saber made no effort to hide this fact, yet the moment the words left her mouth, Naskia looked as if she were about to cry.

“So you’re telling me… you eat my food, drink my water, and yet you won’t listen to me at all?!” Naskia stomped her foot in frustration, her face twisted in despair. “What if you go berserk? What am I supposed to do then?!” Her biggest concern, surprisingly, was this—likely a trauma left behind by Berserker.

“I’m not a Berserker.”

But Saber’s answer didn’t completely reassure Naskia. She understood why.

“Relax. I don’t desire a wish.”

In an instant, Saber’s figure blurred, vanishing like an afterimage—her A-rank Agility made her movement impossible to track with the naked eye.

The witch closed the distance, pressing against Naskia’s frigid body, whispering into the girl’s ear.

“The Holy Grail… belongs to you.”

Soft words, laced with temptation.

“Why?”

Naskia turned her head, her cheeks tinged red from the cold air. It was only now that she finally caught a glimpse of Saber’s face beneath her hood—a dreamlike beauty.

“Because I must win. That’s an order.”

Saber withdrew, her voice carrying undeniable weight.

“Everything else… is unimportant.”

Her tone was sharp, causing Naskia to unconsciously shrink back, intimidated by the sheer force of Saber’s presence. After all, she was the successor of the previous Master—the one who had slain William and seized control.

“Alright, come inside and rest.”

As quickly as she had turned serious, Saber’s expression shifted to one of lighthearted amusement. “There’s only a small cabin here, but it’s enough to keep out the wind and rain.”

This was the outskirts, far removed from the battlefield. Just reaching this place required considerable time. Saber felt it was safe, though it made interfering with Blanché’s battles difficult.

“Don’t waste your [Command Seal]. It’ll be crucial when the time comes.”

That was her final reminder.

---

The sun had risen in the east, and with it, the most dangerous period following her change of Masters had passed. Now, Saber finally had time to thoroughly investigate the city.

As a graceful butterfly, she flitted through the streets with ease. Flight was one of Saber’s greatest advantages.

During the daylight hours, she spotted Archer’s Master walking through the bustling streets. The chosen path was always in crowded areas. Saber had considered launching a surprise attack but ultimately suppressed the thought.

She could sense not just one, but multiple Servants in the area. Her [Pure Eyes] granted her extraordinary perception, allowing her to see everything—both what she should and shouldn’t.

Archer was nearby. In addition, numerous familiars were surveying the surroundings. A reckless assault would only invite Archer’s counterattack, and an open fight in the middle of a crowded street was far from ideal.

Her instincts as a magus from the Age of Gods immediately warned her—this was a large-scale magical ritual. Even in ancient times, such a thing would have been an immense undertaking. Normally, it would require extensive time to map out the terrain and analyze the leyline’s structure. However, that black-haired Master seemed to have already completed all the groundwork and was now finalizing the final preparations.

The sheer breadth of the ritual’s setup made Saber feel somewhat at ease.

Power is finite. The greater the area, the weaker its individual effects.

With A-rank [Magic Resistance], Saber wasn’t worried about any incoming magecraft. Even if the ritual was completed, it posed a greater threat to others than to her—if anything, it might even end up being useful.

Let the fools take the risk.

Saber had no intention of being the first to make a move. Let someone else play the role of the reckless pawn.

---

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!