This Is My Holy Grail War [181]

The assembled Terracotta Soldiers stood vividly painted, unlike the dull, weathered relics unearthed by archaeologists. At first glance, they could easily be mistaken for ordinary guards.

Each soldier appeared lifelike, their presence indistinguishable from that of real men. They stood in formation, their spears raised, revealing only one clue to Saber—the era to which Archer belonged.

But a single era held countless heroes. This alone wasn’t enough to deduce his true name.

Yet, the moment Saber charged into their ranks, her blade wreathed in magic, she understood.

As her holy sword tore through the battlefield, gusts of wind howled in its wake. Every swing sent shockwaves through the air. Beneath Saber’s petite frame lay the raw, untamed power of a beast.

Lifting her sword meant baring her fangs. Every slash was the snapping jaws of a predator.

The soldiers were obliterated in an instant—reduced to nothing but dust and shattered clay.

These were no ordinary warriors. They had no flesh or blood. They were the Terracotta Army—warriors entombed to guard the First Emperor of Qin in his eternal slumber.

Their spears had once cut down the armies of the Six Warring States, had once been stained with the blood of the Xiongnu. They were the strongest soldiers of their time.

And their master—he was the most renowned emperor in history.

The soldiers fell, their fragments dissolving into fine powder under the twilight sky.

Though they were elite warriors who had conquered countless battlefields, against a Servant as powerful as Saber, they were simply outmatched.

Saber lifted her head, her glare cold and unyielding.

The dark red hues of sunset cast across her face, while ashes scattered behind her.

The so-called First Emperor of Qin… was nothing special after all.

She didn’t bother hiding her disdain.

"Ahahahaha!"

Her laughter burst forth, carrying a violent pressure. Mana surged around her as she raised her sword toward Archer.

A killing intent so overwhelming it sent a message loud and clear.

She was leaving.

"Stand in my way, and you die."

Archer scoffed, utterly repulsed.

"Barbarian." He dismissed her with a wave of his sleeve, standing with his hands behind his back.

"Qin Shi Huang—Ying Zheng!" Saber called out his true name.

But before the words had fully left her lips, Archer immediately rebuked her.

"I am a man! What nonsense is this ‘Ying Zheng’?!"

Saber noticed the vein bulging at Archer’s temple and paused, momentarily stunned.

She hadn’t called him by the wrong name. He had acknowledged it himself.

But he was furious—genuinely enraged, not just feigning offense.

It took her a moment to realize her mistake.

The Qin royal family bore the surname Ying, but in ancient times, surname and clan name were distinct. A man would be addressed by his clan name, not his surname.

If Qin Shi Huang had been a woman, he would have been formally addressed as Ying Zheng.

Otherwise, his name would omit the Ying entirely and instead use his clan name.

While the distinctions of ancient and modern naming conventions had long blurred, and the Holy Grail had instilled them with contemporary knowledge, how much a Servant could truly understand remained uncertain.

Much like placing reins on an airplane—technically not incorrect, but undeniably absurd.

"Zhao Zheng," Saber corrected herself, murmuring under her breath as she prepared to charge forward once more.

She thought she had gotten it right this time.

But to her surprise, Archer’s fury only intensified—this time, he outright drew his sword.

"I am the Emperor of Qin! Why do you address me by the Zhao name?!"

His eyes burned with a hatred so fierce it seemed he would tear her apart on the spot.

His legendary temper had always been notorious. Now, provoked twice over, his patience had reached its limit.

Another mistake?!

Saber had fallen victim to historical nuance.

Scholars had long debated Qin Shi Huang’s true clan name, with some Confucian scholars even insisting he belonged to the Lü clan. But speculation aside, Qin Zheng was undoubtedly correct.

Archer’s face twisted in rage.

"You barbarian—I will see how many men you can cut down!"

His voice dripped with venom, yet he maintained his composure.

Saber’s actions had ignited his fury.

Three exchanges of words, and there was no longer any room for negotiation.

To Archer, Saber was mocking him—humiliating him by calling him a Zhao.

He had already been antagonized by Caster earlier. Just as he had begun to settle his mood, Saber had provoked him again, and again.

Saber, however, didn’t think much of it.

She simply assumed his temper was naturally violent.

But the Terracotta Army continued to multiply, and her target was only getting farther away.

She had already lost her Master. Her mana reserves were nearly depleted.

She could not afford to waste any more time.

Pooling the last of her magic, Saber stomped the ground, shattering it beneath her. Using the force of the impact, she launched herself into the air.

Mana erupted from her legs like the ignition of a rocket, propelling her forward in a burst of acceleration.

"If you insist on standing in my way, then I’ll just take your life! I don’t care who you are!"

She landed atop the head of a Terracotta soldier.

A crisp crack rang out as the statue’s skull shattered underfoot.

Using this momentum, she vaulted over the sea of spears, piercing through the ranks of a ten-thousand-strong army straight toward its heart.

Archer, standing tall atop his chariot, showed no sign of fear.

Instead, he raised his sword to meet her attack.

"One blade—eight wounds!"

Despite being an emperor, Archer’s agility rivaled that of an elite assassin.

And his Noble Phantasm—

Saber’s eyes widened.

The greatest swordsmanship in the world could only tear through space three times in a single instant.

Yet Archer had just unleashed eight simultaneous silver arcs.

He was an Archer—how could he wield a Saber’s Noble Phantasm?!

No… this was an Assassin’s technique!

"—Ugh!"

For the first time, Saber felt pressure.

She held her breath as [Instinct] rapidly calculated the eight intersecting blade trajectories.

Luckily—

A Noble Phantasm was still an idealized phenomenon, not a miracle brought by a true Sword Saint.

Though the eight strikes tore through the air simultaneously, they weren’t as absolute as [Tsubame Gaeshi].

And Archer was not a Saber—his strength alone wasn’t enough to pierce the magical armor encasing her body.

With the aid of her [Instincts], Saber angled [Durandal] forward.

Her indestructible holy sword deflected three slashes.

Her breastplate repelled two more.

Her armored skirt blocked another two.

The final strike came straight for her head—but she tilted her head just in time.

It sliced through her temple, cutting loose strands of golden hair. A faint line of blood beaded along the wound, but it was insignificant.

Her counterattack was already prepared—she had planned to retaliate with a secret technique of her own.

But then—

Archer lifted his sword again.

He can use it consecutively?!

Saber changed course immediately.

Her gaze shifted.

She set her sights on Archer’s Master.

If you insist on stopping me, then you’ll pay the price.

A gunshot rang out.

Its target was the same as Saber’s—Archer’s Master.

Blood pooled beneath the black-haired girl.

But she did not scream.

Modern firearms were a weakness of magi—few bothered to train against them.

Yet despite being shot, she did not fall.

Instead, she reinforced her fingers with magic and forcefully dug the bullet from her own body.

Her fingers were drenched in blood.

And then—with those same bloodied hands—she cast a healing spell.

She hadn’t uttered a single word the entire time.

Only glared.

Saber was impressed.

"Don’t look at me like that. I wasn’t the one who ambushed you."

She wasn’t lying.

She lacked the mana to set up such an attack here.

Saber smirked.

"Seems I’m not the only one after your life. Suits me just fine."

She turned to leave.

But Archer’s gaze grew even colder.

"Move aside."

Saber’s voice was far from friendly.

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T/N: ohh its that lostbelt dude, but different since hes not from lostbelt history

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!