This Is My Holy Grail War [183]

This was Blanche’s starry night. By all logic, nightfall marked the true beginning of the Holy Grail War. During the day, everyone remained in hiding, bound by the fundamental rule of preserving mystery. It was an unspoken agreement between magi and Executors alike.

Yet tonight, Wei Yang could do nothing but stay home, powerless.

The snow had passed, leaving a clear and luminous moon hanging in the sky. However, the moonlight that bathed the ground was icy cold, so unlike the sun during the day. In the far eastern Blanche, night was synonymous with chill. In Wei Yang’s memories, the moon of her childhood had been warm. Even at night, she had dared to wade through rivers, unafraid.

Since arriving in this foreign land, she had become a recluse. Forget playing in the water—she barely even stepped outside.

Now, staring at the moon, Wei Yang was filled with an inexplicable sense of loneliness. Though night had fallen, the bright moonlight illuminated the sky. She could see the vast expanse above, the thick layers of clouds drifting by.

Her hand unconsciously reached for her wound, the pain still lingering. The bone-deep agony of torn muscle and ruptured flesh refused to fade. Blood had soaked through her chest, staining her once-white feathered robe a deep red. Already tinged with a faint grayness, the fabric looked even more tragic now.

Steel had pierced her flesh, shattering bone, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the torment of her spirit.

The crescent moon overhead—it was a battle horn, sounding the call to war.
The bright moonlight—it was the flames of battle, burning relentlessly.
The desolate night—it was the stage upon which war unfolded.

Everything was set, and yet, because of her injuries, Wei Yang was unable to fight. She could do nothing but cower at home like a turtle in its shell. The defenses here were impeccable—barriers fortified to the level of an impenetrable stronghold. Ten years of preparation had turned this villa into a veritable fortress. Not even magi, let alone Servants, could easily breach these defenses.

Yes, it was safe…

Yet Wei Yang’s face remained cold as ever, though her teeth had bitten down hard enough to nearly break the skin of her lips. A thin trail of blood seeped from the corner of her mouth—so faint that one wouldn’t notice unless they looked closely. But it was proof of her unwillingness to accept this fate.

A sniper’s bullet had torn through her body. For the sake of safety, she had been escorted back home at full speed by Archer. She hadn’t even changed out of her bloodstained clothes, and her long, jet-black hair was now a tangled mess.

The wide feathered robe concealed her frame, but as she slowly slipped it off, her slender figure was revealed. Wei Yang’s body was well-proportioned, yet not fully developed—a girl still in the bloom of youth, with a hint of innocence yet to fade. Her expression remained meticulously composed, as if shutting the entire world out at a distance.

She had to heal.
She had to endure.
She had to push forward.

Like any rational magus, Wei Yang’s priority was not to alleviate pain but to restore her combat ability as quickly as possible. The bullet had long been extracted; now, she was focused solely on recovery.

Ten years of preparation—she would not allow the Holy Grail to slip through her fingers so easily.

She set aside her clothing, revealing the delicate contours of her shoulder blades, the fairness of her skin, and the graceful outline of her figure. As she treated her wounds, pain surged through her nerves, but she forced it down with sheer willpower. Her long lashes fluttered gently with each slow, steady blink.

Exhale…

Releasing a long breath, Wei Yang suddenly sensed a Servant’s presence.

It was a blatant signal—undisguised, as if deliberately announcing itself.

The magical energy emanating from outside her workshop was immense, far beyond that of any ordinary magus. A magus would require extensive preparation—one, two months, perhaps even half a year—to muster such an overwhelming aura. Yet this region’s only leyline node lay beneath her very feet, which meant one thing—

The presence outside could only belong to a Servant.

Wei Yang had already encountered six Servants, but this energy was unfamiliar. That could only mean one thing—Lancer.

If one were to consider who among the Servants was most likely to wound her using modern weaponry, there were only two possibilities.

The first was Saber, who had already demonstrated proficiency with contemporary firearms.
The second was the elusive, hidden Lancer.

Now, what should she do?

Wei Yang was still contemplating how to handle Lancer when Archer had already made the decision for her. To so brazenly display one’s magical energy—it was an outright provocation. And to provoke a sovereign? A king with boundless pride would never ignore such a challenge.

A mere defender? That was not how an emperor fought.

No, Archer preferred to carve his dominion with the edge of his blade.

Wei Yang took it all in silently. Let Archer handle this… I am nothing more than a powerless, incompetent Master.

Kneeling slightly, she focused on dressing herself.

Though her hands moved swiftly, her mind remained attuned to the battlefield through the [Command Seal]’s contract. She was prepared to activate a [Command Seal] at a moment’s notice.

Through this link, Wei Yang could see through Archer’s eyes. The sensation was peculiar—most first-time users would feel dizzy, as if motion-sick. But for Wei Yang, this was second nature. Many magi learned to share a familiar’s vision from an early age.

A Lancer clad in black armor sat atop his mount.

Unlike most Lancers, this one rode a warhorse.

A black horse… no, a red one.

Under the dim moonlight, Wei Yang’s initial impression was that the horse was black. But that was only because its red was so deep, so dark, that it nearly appeared black.

So this is Lancer…?

Wei Yang had expected the two Servants to formally exchange class names before launching into battle.

But what happened next caught her completely off guard—

Archer called out Lancer’s true name.

“Marquis of Wu’an, Gongsun Qi.”

Archer pondered for a moment before uttering the name. “I almost forgot about you.”

“It is I, Your Highness.”

Lancer hesitated for a long moment before finally responding.

“A butcher, a mere executioner.”

“This arrogance is unlike your usual tactics,” Archer remarked, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

“My target is not you,” Lancer stated bluntly.

“You wish to stall me here while your Master attacks mine?”

“I am not your match. I could never hope to challenge your authority.” Lancer’s words carried no hesitation.

“My Master is a schemer, seeking victory through treachery. At first, I refused… but then I thought, what difference is there between a schemer and an executioner? We both bear infamy. As long as we win, that’s all that matters.” He sighed, as if resigned to his own fate. “So, from the beginning, my target was never you.”

Despite this, he continued to address Archer with respect.

“Where is the ruthless fire that led you to burn bridges and sever all escape routes?” Archer questioned.

“That was because I knew I could win,” Lancer replied humbly. A general, a marquis, a noble of the empire.

“This barrier is indeed formidable,” he continued. “But Your Highness underestimates modern technology.”

Wei Yang’s brows furrowed. Modern technology?

Beyond firearms, what else could he mean?

Her first thought was explosives.

Before she could process anything further, a deafening explosion tore through the night!

---

T/N: WHAT THE FUCK KIRITSUGU?

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!