This Is My Holy Grail War [185]

In that fleeting moment of silence, the twinkling stars vanished from the night sky.

Wei Yang looked up—where the endless darkness had once stretched, new life now ignited.

Brilliant golden light blazed across the heavens, divine flames surging through the starry night like an inferno.

She bore witness to the emperor’s radiance.

That was—

The light of a Noble Phantasm!

Hot blood pounded in her chest.

The cold, indifferent girl felt herself surrendering to the golden brilliance, her heart racing wildly in response. The powerful thrum of its beat echoed in her ears, sending waves of exhilaration through her veins.

Countless golden threads wove together in the night sky, intertwining to form a vast and intricate net.

Then, layer by layer, they overlapped, fusing into a magnificent, towering wall—

A Great Wall.

It was dazzling beyond words.

Wei Yang could only look up, as insignificant as an ant at the foot of a mountain.

In the deep abyss of her pupils, a breathtaking sight was reflected—modern weaponry clashing against crystallized legend.

The deafening roar of destruction shook the heavens.

Chunks of earth and debris flew past her, but she felt no fear.

Her heartbeat quickened.

Her delicate body trembled ever so slightly.

Then, the corners of her lips curled into a crazed, ecstatic smile.

Without realizing it, a single, crystal-clear teardrop slid down her cheek.

“Uwaah… is this a miracle?”

Boom—!

The force of the explosion trembled through the earth, yet Wei Yang remained composed, tracing her fingers lightly over her own pale skin. The dried blood along her wounds slowly faded away.

Even in the face of catastrophe, she remained at ease—because she trusted Archer completely.

She knew that the [Great Wall] was no mere crumbling relic.

A violent shockwave billowed out, kicking up a storm of dust.

Unfazed, Wei Yang calmly opened the wardrobe, taking down a fresh set of robes—treating the devastation outside as nothing more than background noise.

The impact of the explosions resonated through the palace, causing the wooden beams of the loft to creak and groan.

The acrid stench of gunpowder filled the air, thick with the foul reek of sulfur.

Wei Yang’s delicate nose twitched as she caught the scent, and she frowned slightly.

She lifted a single hand.

With only one whispered word, the stench vanished without a trace.

“…Wind.”

The shifting currents swept through the room, carrying away every last impurity.

With that, she finished dressing—fully prepared for battle.

Her Magic Circuits flared to life, etching intricate, winding paths across her body.

From her ankles, they spiraled upward, twisting past her Saint Vortex, tracing over her collarbone—only stopping when they reached the center of her forehead.

A single crimson mark burned between her brows, as red as fresh blood. A sight that sent chills down one’s spine.

Wei Yang steadily converted her magical energy, supplying Archer with the power he needed to fight.

The golden glow of her circuits flickered like flames beneath her sheer robes.

Though most of Archer’s mana came from her father, she, too, could provide him with energy.

She could not fight. Her wounds left her confined to safety.

But this—this was the one thing she could still do.

The heavy feathered robe had been discarded, replaced by fitted silken garments that better accentuated her slender form and untouchable beauty.

She made no unnecessary movements.

Despite being a Master, she was astonishingly passive—leaving all initiative to Archer.

She waited.

Waited for his command.

Wherever his sword pointed—she would follow.

The enemy was already surrounded.

The legion of soldiers Archer had summoned continued to grow, expanding with every second.

Wei Yang could feel the magical energy being drained from her body, a suffocating pressure squeezing at her very life force.

But the greater the burden, the more exhilarated she became.

How would Lancer respond to this unstoppable tide of troops?

Would he flee—or fight?

Wei Yang could hardly wait to hear news of Lancer’s demise.

She wanted to see Archer execute him with her own eyes.

The Great Wall shielded Wei Yang, allowing her to watch Lancer from the safety of its golden embrace.

But unlike Archer’s radiant brilliance, Lancer’s presence was wholly different.

His aura was steeped in darkness—

A force born from hell itself, like a living Asura on the battlefield.

“All is decided by Your Majesty,” Wei Yang murmured.

She would never restrict Archer.

She relinquished all choices to this emperor.

She was but a supporter. She dared not speak empty boasts before a battle-hardened Heroic Spirit.

The soldiers Archer summoned grew in number with each passing moment.

If Lancer wished to fight—he could not wait any longer.

That was what Wei Yang thought.

And the enemy thought the same.

Through the golden fortress, she saw the night sky shift.

It was subtle—so faint that the average eye might have missed it.

But her keen vision caught it instantly.

A red hue had begun to stain the blackened sky.

A faint, ominous glow.

Even the pale moon was veiled beneath a thin, crimson shroud.

“In my lifetime, I have razed over seventy cities.”

Lancer’s voice was hoarse, laden with chilling, ruthless intent.

A mere whisper of it was enough to stain Wei Yang’s vision red.

Her once placid expression shattered—

Her still waters became a raging storm.

“A body tempered in a hundred battles, the slain counted in the millions…”

The world around them shifted.

The bustling metropolis vanished into an open wasteland.

A new landscape bled into reality.

She saw—

Broken banners.

A sea of corpses.

Rivers of blood running through the earth.

This was no mere battlefield.

It was an endless charnel house.

The saying “Blood flows thick enough to float a warship” was no longer a metaphor.

This was… a [Reality Marble]?!

Lancer’s inner world was swallowing reality itself.

The steel and concrete of the modern city eroded away, replaced by this gruesome nightmare.

A cold, twisting pain churned in Wei Yang’s gut.

Her stomach clenched.

Her senses screamed in protest against the overwhelming stench of death.

She gritted her teeth.

Endured through sheer willpower.

Even scent had been manifested within this world—

A sign that the [Reality Marble] was nearing completion.

This was no longer the mortal realm.

This was purgatory.

“For over thirty years, I have never lost a war.”

Soldiers clad in black armor began to gather.

They bore the same form as Archer’s [Terracotta Army]—an elite force from Qin’s conquests.

Yet, compared to Archer’s troops, these warriors radiated something far more lethal.

Their bloodlust was tangible, suffocating.

“I have fought a hundred battles, and never once tasted defeat.”

The power of the [Reality Marble] unfolded—

A legend of the undefeated, manifesting once more.

Lancer’s eyes, under the enchantment of his Noble Phantasm, gleamed a demonic crimson.

His killing intent surged like a tidal wave, threatening to crush Wei Yang beneath its weight.

The grand palace within the [Great Wall] had not been spared.

It, too, was consumed by the [Reality Marble].

The only trace of modern civilization left…

Were the flickering flames of lamplight.

Wei Yang estimated—

In less than a minute, this [Reality Marble] will fully materialize.

A silent, deathless army.

A living incarnation of war itself.

Archer burst into laughter.

"Hahahaha! Good! Good! Good!"

Three times he spoke, each word carrying absolute acknowledgment of Lancer.

"Traitor—this battle, I will win!"

His words became law.

This was the true power of Archer.

To surpass the Three Sovereigns. To stand above the Five Emperors. To be the chosen ruler of destiny, the bearer of imperial authority passed down through the ages.

With but a single decree, he could bestow divinity upon a frail mortal.

Yet, unlike Liu Bang’s so-called Mandate of Heaven, Archer's words carried absolute authority.

Because he had unified the written language. Standardized all measurements.

His words alone could distort reality.

The very moment Lancer's [Reality Marble] began to take effect, Archer had already woven his own decree into existence—an unshakable concept of victory.

A blazing surge of energy erupted from within Wei Yang.

In that instant, she no longer feared this terrifying battlefield.

Nor did the soldiers.

Their spears leveled, poised to charge.

But something strange was happening.

Lancer’s [Reality Marble]… wavered.

The crimson-stained battlefield that had begun to take form—halted in its tracks.

Lancer… had given up the attack.

Without the slightest hesitation, he withdrew.

"In terms of sheer dominance, Your Majesty is the greater."

An undefeated army versus an undeniable emperor.

When two absolute concepts clashed, what would happen?

Lancer did not know.

Wei Yang did not know.

Perhaps… even Archer did not know.

This was a battle that could shake the heavens and the earth.

Yet, before the charge was even sounded—Lancer chose to retreat.

Unlike heroes, Lancer was a general.

A man born and bred for the battlefield.

He understood the rules of war better than anyone.

He assessed the situation, weighed the costs.

And in this battle, he held no advantage.

Army against army. Concept against concept.

He had spent a massive amount of magical energy—only to uncover Archer’s trump card.

A reckless fighter might charge forward regardless, seeking to probe further.

But Lancer would not.

He had learned enough.

To fight on would only result in unnecessary losses.

"You don't want to fight anymore?" Archer questioned—not aggressively, but with mild curiosity.

"And neither do you," Lancer answered plainly. "Even if we were to settle the outcome here and now, neither of us would gain anything. It would only benefit others."

A commander’s duty was not just to lead troops into battle—it was to train them, to ensure logistics were maintained, to preserve their forces.

With perfect composure, Lancer spoke his final words of the night:

"This Holy Grail War… encountering Your Majesty has been both my fortune and my misfortune."

Then, his warhorse took a slow step backward—moving with an eerie intelligence, as if it understood its master’s will.

Moments later, Lancer disappeared into the moonlit night.

Silence returned to the battlefield.

Only the countless soldiers remained, standing in formation—unmoving.

Unlike ordinary familiars, the [Terracotta Army] was not a simple conjuration.

They were not mindless pawns meant for disposable use.

They were automata, magical constructs that could operate independently.

They did not fade when magical energy ran dry—at worst, they would return to stone.

Once summoned, they would fight until death.

But Wei Yang now faced an entirely different problem—

How to conceal them.

To counter Lancer, Archer had raised an entire army.

With such overwhelming numbers, hiding them during daylight would be… impossible.

"Your Majesty," Wei Yang spoke softly through their telepathic link, "I advise we move them beyond the city—out into the tundra. Here… I fear it may expose the mysteries."

"Granted," Archer nodded.

The soldiers immediately began to march.

Moving in disciplined columns, they withdrew beyond the city limits.

They were far more agile than ordinary magical constructs, able to navigate urban terrain with ease—scaling rooftops, weaving through alleyways.

Wei Yang, too, had work to do.

She needed to establish a concealment barrier.

Not to make the army vanish completely—that would be impossible.

Instead, all she needed was for the world to believe the Terracotta Soldiers were merely actors.

The Church would handle most of the cover-up.

All Wei Yang had to do… was ensure the soldiers looked real enough.

"Do you see, Wei Yang?"

At the sound of Archer’s voice, she turned forward.

A sight stretched before her—

A seemingly endless procession.

A great, unbroken line of warriors—Archer’s unstoppable army.

"Yes, Your Majesty. Your soldiers are invincible."

"No," Archer replied. "That is not what I asked."

He continued, his voice deep and contemplative.

"I asked about the enemy."

"My enemies… are strong. All of them."

Wei Yang did not hesitate.

"Then I will stand beside you, through hardship and triumph alike."

Her voice was unwavering.

Her deadpan expression did not shift.

But in the depths of her dull eyes—there burned an unmistakable fervor.

"Are you afraid?"

Archer posed the question again.

"Afraid of the Executioner? The Butcher of Battlefields? The Saint of Science, Mozi?"

And again—Wei Yang answered.

"No. I will stand beside Your Majesty, through hardship and triumph alike."

"Good!" Archer declared, his laughter ringing through the night.

"To ride into battle, with a beauty at my side—what greater joy is there?"

His tone was jubilant, brimming with satisfaction.

"Of all the women in my harem, not one is like you."

"To be chosen as Your Majesty’s consort… would be a blessing earned in a past life. A fortune many would envy," Wei Yang replied humbly.

"If peace is ever restored, I will take you as my consort," Archer said.

Wei Yang’s heart skipped a beat.

For a brief moment, she was at a loss for words.

A chaotic whirlwind of emotions stirred within her.

She wanted to whisper yes—

But feared overstepping.

Instead, she responded with careful tact:

"To ride alongside Your Majesty in battle is already my greatest honor."

Archer’s tone was not stern.

Was he simply speaking on a whim?

His words carried no weight of command, no expectation.

Yet, even as Wei Yang maintained outward composure, her heart was already in turmoil.

"Disperse," Archer commanded. "Tonight is a peaceful night."

As she watched his retreating figure, a thought crossed her mind—

Lancer.

The Marquis of Wu’an, Bai Qi.

"Your Majesty," she called.

Archer turned, frowning slightly.

"What is it?"

"If a man achieves great merit in service to you… yet commits an unforgivable crime—what should be done?"

Wei Yang’s voice was clear.

Every syllable rang with conviction.

"Merit is merit. Crime is crime," Archer answered without hesitation.

"Those with merit shall be rewarded. Those with crimes shall be punished."

He assumed she was speaking of Bai Qi.

"I understand," Wei Yang replied, bowing slightly.

Pain lanced through her wounds.

Yet, she only smiled.

The war had truly begun.

For ten years, she had prepared.

She knew everything about this city—

The leylines. The nodes.

Perhaps… even more than the Master of Blanche himself.

"Your Majesty, I will need time tomorrow to set my preparations in place," she informed him.

"It may take long… but it will be worth it. I will secure additional power for you."

Confidence gleamed in her eyes.

"You are a magus," Archer replied simply.

"What you excel at—you need not ask my permission to do."

"Understood, Your Majesty."

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T/N: Gil vs this guy who do you think would win (Gil obv would win)

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!