This Is My Holy Grail War [180]

Wei Yang’s gaze was sharp, piercing. She was always like this—silent, watching intently. Her eyes, cold and gleaming like a blade, locked onto Naskia.

This woman was one of her fiercest competitors in this Holy Grail War.

A noble heir from Russia’s distinguished Zorgen family. Yet, with that panicked look on her face, where was the dignity of a family head?

Wei Yang silently observed, her proud face curving into a faint, mocking smile. The air was deathly still—so quiet that even the howling wind was crystal clear to her ears.

Archer was debating with Caster. She didn't interfere and instead turned her cold gaze toward Naskia.

To say Wei Yang's eyes were cold wasn’t quite right. They were filled with arrogance.

She was exceptionally talented and relentlessly diligent. But for the sake of the Grail, she had hidden herself since childhood, suppressing everything within.

She looked down on other magi, and as for ordinary people, they weren’t even worth noticing. Naturally, she developed a strong sense of superiority, rarely speaking unless necessary.

"Your Servant ran off. Aren't you going to chase after him?" Wei Yang asked expressionlessly.

The woman was slow to react, only now dumbly turning her head. Wei Yang, however, withdrew her disdain and instead furrowed her brows.

No magus should remain dazed for such a long time. Unlike ordinary people, magi were colder, more rational, and more detached.

"...This might be the end," Naskia muttered. A single bead of sweat trickled down her cheek—a rare, genuine admission. Moments ago, she had been sowing discord, yet now her tone had taken a complete 180-degree turn.

Although summer had arrived in Blanche, the air remained chilly. Take today, for example—there had even been a light snowfall in the early morning.

The temperature was still cold, the wind biting. Naskia wasn’t dressed particularly warmly, yet she was sweating. That was odd.

Something unusual was happening.

"What do you mean, 'the end'?" Wei Yang's voice carried no emotion, as bland as a tasteless broth. Her sacred and beautiful face belied the desolate words she spoke, as empty as the wilderness.

Naskia’s Berserker had run off, but where could he possibly go? Likely, as he had just declared, to eliminate the "traitor" in the name of his emperor.

And Wei Yang already knew exactly who that "traitor" was. She had memorized the direction Berserker had taken when he left.

Berserker must have gone after Saber with reckless abandon. Yet his Master was now claiming it was over.

Could it be…

"Berserker is dead?" Wei Yang steadied herself. Her voice carried a hint of emotion—surprise, doubt—but her eyes remained as still as a deep well.

"Oh my, you guessed it." Naskia stuck out her tongue. The noble lady of a prestigious lineage didn't show the slightest regret. Instead, she made a playful face.

Saber was strong—strong enough to settle a battle in such a short time.

Wei Yang couldn't see what had happened on the battlefield, but there was no lingering magical disturbance. That meant Saber had subdued Berserker with incredible speed.

And without even using a Noble Phantasm—at least, she hadn’t sensed one.

"Your Servant was weak. Useless." Wei Yang was merely stating a fact. It made her seem socially inept, but she simply had no interest in comforting others or treating them as equals.

"At least he was a good person. Just… a bit dull, obsessed to the point of madness, and in the end, got outplayed by Lancer, who had been hiding in the shadows..."

Naskia unexpectedly started listing Berserker’s flaws. Then, after ranting, she abruptly changed her tune.

"But he did manage to kill Saber’s Master!"

She smiled oddly, her delicate demeanor laced with an unsettling amusement.

Saber’s Master was dead?

Two Servants eliminated in a single battle.

That was fast.

But with Saber gone, the greatest threat had been removed. Now, the only one left who could challenge the Emperor was Lancer, lurking in the dark.

One of the Three Knight Classes—hiding in the shadows. Despicable, perhaps, but not necessarily wrong.

Yes, this was war.

Wei Yang unconsciously glanced at the bodies littering the ground.

These ordinary people had no place in the Holy Grail War. They couldn’t even withstand its aftershocks. A mere magus could bring them to their knees, leaving them sprawled on the ground, unable to rise.

"Let's go to the church and return our [Command Spells]. Honestly, I feel a little sorry for them."

Naskia, however, remained indifferent, shrugging as if none of this mattered. Then she turned to Caster.

"Hurry up! Saber is coming! Her Master is dead—she's like water without a source now. She’s in a frenzy!"

The moment she finished speaking, Naskia turned and bolted without a second thought.

Wei Yang saw it clearly.

This woman had no real interest in the Holy Grail War at all.

She had hidden her emotions well all this time, but now, she bit her lip—genuine resentment and unwillingness boiling inside her.

Ten years of effort—all for this moment. And yet, this woman didn’t care at all!

The fire ignited within her, like a wildfire spreading across a dry plain. It consumed her chest in an instant.

But her burning rage did not cloud her reason.

Her face remained cold and impassive.

Even if Mount Tai were to collapse before her, she would not waver.

She wanted to call Naskia back. Wanted to teach that woman a lesson.

"You—"

The words barely left Wei Yang’s lips when she suddenly felt it.

An overwhelming force.

A massive surge of magical energy flooded the sky like a storm cloud, suffocating in its pressure. The air boiled under its weight.

Ordinary people wouldn’t notice, but Wei Yang could feel it. The land trembled, the ley lines' magical currents scattering in all directions.

Fear.

Even the earth—no, the very ley lines of this region—were terrified.

"Who is Berserker's Master?!"

Saber’s roar tore through the sky, her deep blue magic flooding the heavens like an eraser violently scrubbing away the twilight’s crimson hues.

So this was what Naskia meant by "frenzy."

When a Servant unleashed their power recklessly, abandoning all restraint, the destruction they wrought was terrifying.

Especially when that Servant was Saber—the strongest of the Holy Grail War’s classes.

A furious howl echoed, and Wei Yang saw a nearby low-rise building shatter instantly!

Cement and rubble exploded in all directions, dust filling the air.

Then, with a thunderous crash, Saber kicked through the remains of a concrete wall. The collapsed building roared as it fell, and from the swirling dust, the swordswoman emerged.

"Where is Berserker’s Master?!"

Her voice was low, smoldering like a dormant volcano on the verge of eruption.

Saber looked calm.

But that calm was even more terrifying.

She advanced like an unstoppable war machine—unyielding, relentless.

She crushed everything in her path rather than avoiding obstacles.

Losing her Master had left her no time to recover. Every second she remained in this world drained her magic.

Wei Yang knew Saber must already be at her limit.

And yet—

No one dared to provoke her now.

Saber had changed.

In Wei Yang’s eyes, her stats had skyrocketed since their last encounter.

Except for her Luck, every attribute had risen to an alarming degree!

[Strength: A+]
[Endurance: B+++]
[Agility: A]
[Mana: B]
[Luck: D]

The Holy Grail’s revelation sent a cold sweat down Wei Yang’s back.

No Noble Phantasm, no skills listed—just raw stats alone were enough to intimidate anyone.

She was far too powerful—leagues above any other Servant.

And even more terrifying—

She no longer resembled a knight wielding a cross-shaped sword.

She looked like a holy king, her entire body radiating a seven-colored brilliance!

Wei Yang instinctively turned to her own Servant—Archer.

That self-proclaimed ruler of all lands.

The towering, black-clad figure stood unshaken.

His gaze burned like a torch, pushing back against Saber’s overwhelming presence.

Then—

Boom!

Power and mana clashed, and in an instant, Saber shot forward like a cannonball. The air thickened, growing heavy and murky as waves of brilliant blue flame erupted around her—a dense, layered blaze of magic. It resembled the exhaust of a rocket, yet something about it was different.

Saber paid no attention to anyone present—not even sparing a glance at Caster or Archer. Her gaze remained fixed forward, unwavering, like a spear thrust straight ahead.

What was she looking at?

Wei Yang followed Saber’s line of sight into the distance.

A bridge?

Blanche’s steel suspension bridge, the only route off the north bank. Though not particularly significant, it was the sole passage unless one wished to trek through Russia’s frigid oak forests—or swim the ice-cold Sword River.

Naskia Zorgen.

That was the direction Berserker’s Master had fled.

The next moment, Saber moved—ignoring everyone in her path as she shot toward the bridge. Naskia had only just set foot on it. She hadn’t gotten far.

Why was Saber so fixated on finding Berserker’s Master?

Hatred, perhaps. The resentment of a Servant abandoned after losing their Master.

After fulfilling her vengeance, Saber would eventually dissipate due to a lack of mana. A Servant without a Master could no longer compete for the Grail—unless they found another Master who had lost their Servant and formed a new contract.

But forming a new contract was no simple matter.

The prospective Master needed to be Servant-less; otherwise, conflicts could arise between the two. After all, there was only one Grail.

At that thought, Wei Yang’s expression suddenly froze.

She remembered Naskia’s position—she, too, was a participant in the Holy Grail War. A Master.

The noble heiress had lost her Servant, but her Command Spells were still intact. Berserker was dead.

And Saber—

Wei Yang finally understood. Saber wasn’t seeking revenge. She was taking advantage of the time she had left, before her mana ran dry, to secure a new Master.

Saber was choosing a Master.

Realization struck like lightning.

Saber’s overwhelming power was now laid bare before them, and Caster seemed quite interested in her as well. Wei Yang hadn’t spoken up during His Majesty’s debate with the black-cloaked magus, but she had overheard much.

This was the best opportunity to eliminate Saber.

Right now, she had lost her Master and was at her weakest.

If Naskia became Saber’s new Master, the outcome of this battle would be uncertain.

Wei Yang had always looked down on Zorgen, but the noble girl possessed an undeniable wealth of mana.

If Saber was already this formidable even without a Master, then the prospect of her forming a contract with Naskia was a catastrophe waiting to happen.

"Your Majesty! Stop her! We cannot let Saber cross that bridge—she’s searching for Berserker’s Master!" Wei Yang shouted urgently. "She wants to form a new contract!"

The moment the words left her lips, soldiers clad in black armor emerged from the void. They arranged themselves into countless square formations, raising their spears. A ripple of gray-brown energy spread across the battlefield as Archer, standing atop his chariot, positioned himself in Saber’s path.

The soldiers moved with uncanny precision—trained warriors, yet different from Berserker’s fanatical zealots. They didn’t even resemble living men. Their expressions were stiff, devoid of emotion. Like puppets.

"Stand in my way, and you die!"

Saber raised her sword. She did not hesitate.

She charged forward, cutting through the wall of spears in an instant—like a relentless harvester.

But what scattered through the air was not blood and flesh.

It was dirt and shards of clay.

These were Terracotta Soldiers, an army resurrected from the underworld. They had been buried alongside their Emperor and continued to fight for him even in death.

"I’d like to see just how many you can cut down, you barbarian!"

Archer’s expression darkened, displeased that his troops were being slaughtered too quickly.

"If you can break through a hundred, I’ll summon a thousand. If a thousand fall, I’ll bring ten thousand. If ten thousand aren’t enough—then a hundred thousand! I will see how long you can last!"

With a flick of his sleeve, he clasped his hands behind his back.

He had initially moved in response to Wei Yang’s warning, but now, more than anything—he was furious.

Yet, rather than shrink back under Archer’s provocation, Saber lifted her head.

Her gaze mirrored his perfectly—filled with the same unwavering arrogance and dominance.

Archer’s tyranny was that of a sovereign, brooking no defiance.

But Saber’s was something else entirely.

It was the disdain of a hero toward all others.

Wei Yang understood, then, the meaning behind Saber’s expression.

Her eyes said it all.

So this is all the so-called heroes of the Holy Grail War amount to.

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T/N: sheeesssssh is sheesh old now should i stop using it

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!