This Is My Holy Grail War [165]

A river of swords cascaded straight down from the clouds, rushing toward the sea—vast and majestic. Yet, Saber had no time to appreciate such a spectacle. She could only sit on the cold cement.

Gentle snowflakes drifted over the river’s surface, but it was the roaring flames on the opposite bank that drew Saber’s attention. She had only just settled on the northern shore.

In the pale morning light, Saber saw thick smoke billowing into the sky, a black fog shrouding half the city.

The explosion had come too suddenly. Saber suspected it was a premeditated attack, yet the hospital building hadn’t been completely destroyed. Was it a miscalculation, or was there another reason? She had no way of knowing.

The fire spread at a pace visible to the naked eye, yet no one called for help. Instead, the people in the surrounding districts instinctively avoided the hospital, dispersing in all directions.

Perhaps by tomorrow, the fresh morning papers would record yet another “unexpected accident.” Saber mused, though she already understood what had happened.

The fleeing crowd was orderly—no panic, no chaos, as if nothing had happened at all. That was anything but normal. A strong enchantment was at work here, one with a clear purpose. Casting such magic in broad daylight was a major taboo for magi, but in a war, all conventions were meaningless.

Saber sat atop an unfinished high-rise, gazing into the distance as the hum of cranes echoed in her ears. She had made this construction site her home and was beginning to build a temple here.

The building was still in its early stages, and Saber wasn’t entirely sure what it was meant to be—perhaps a plaza of some kind? But she had settled here because of the leyline running beneath it.

It was a prime location. Few people lingered nearby, making it an ideal place to perform large-scale magic. The incomplete structure served as perfect cover, allowing her to set up countless traps in secret.

And with the leyline so close, once her workshop was complete, she could harness the land’s power to fortify her defenses. Though she was a swordswoman, her strategic thinking was far closer to that of a magus.

The sword river separated this place from the bustling city center, connected only by a narrow suspension bridge. But the new district was not nearly as lively as planned—too cold, too desolate. Few were willing to settle here, and the construction site had nearly ground to a halt.

It had become a ghost town, abandoned but not forgotten. Perhaps the investors refused to let go, as a few scattered workers still struggled to renovate the skeletal buildings. Though the wind wasn’t particularly strong, the air remained frigid.

A black pigeon suddenly landed beside Saber. The cold cement had gathered a thin layer of snow overnight, and even now, it showed no signs of melting.

The air was freezing, yet the northern side of the river seemed to be teeming with pigeons—creatures unfazed by the cold. White pigeons lazily preened under the sunlight, small ones hopped about with insatiable curiosity, plump gray ones feasted well, and wild pigeons from the northern oak forests nested in the trees but ventured into the city for food.

They danced in the falling snow, perching atop buildings, only to take flight with the passing of a cold gust. Their resilience surpassed that of humans—they had long since claimed this concrete jungle as their own.

Over time, Saber had grown used to their company. At times, she even found herself wanting to reach out and touch them, though they always rejected her.

Like now. The moment Saber’s gaze landed on the black pigeon beside her, it swiftly spread its wings and took off, flapping southward.

These creatures were afraid…

The black pigeon soared freely into the sky, the sunlight casting its dark silhouette upon the clear waters of the sword river.

As Saber followed its flight, she spotted something approaching from the south—a shadow moving rapidly northward!

She immediately stood and looked toward the distant rooftops.

That was the assassin who had fought her to a standstill the night before. Why is he heading for the northern shore?!

Saber tensed, her gaze locking onto the approaching figure—Assassin. And in his arms, he carried a frail young woman. Saber knew there was only one person Assassin would shield with such urgency: his Master.

The river wasn’t wide, but the wind was fierce. Though Saber, as a spiritual entity, was unaffected by the cold, she knew that for a human, this bitter wind was as sharp as a blade.

The woman in Assassin’s arms was fragile, her sickly form looking as if a single gust could topple her. Her clothing was thin—merely a simple blue nightgown, the kind one would wear at home.

Though Assassin held her close, Saber could see clearly: the woman was trembling in his arms.

It was the cold. The biting wind was stealing her life away.

Saber’s [Pure Eyes] allowed her to perceive every detail, even from this distance. The girl was frail—far too frail for someone her age. Though she had ample magic within her, she seemed like nothing more than a candle flickering in the wind.

And behind Assassin, another Servant was in pursuit.

Saber’s gaze fell upon the crown atop the pursuer’s head and the flowing black robes. Though their attire differed, Saber could tell—the two Servants came from the same land.

Saber had witnessed Assassin’s speed firsthand—it was the peak of an assassin’s craft, a velocity so intense that even her Intuition struggled to react. And yet, now, he was nearly caught.

He’s holding back… for the sake of his Master.

The southern hospital was still burning. Judging from their direction of escape, it was obvious where they had come from.

Such a frantic retreat, without even proper winter clothing—clearly, they were the victims. And the pair chasing them down? The culprits.

Saber steadied herself, her mind clear. She now understood who posed the greatest threat in this Holy Grail War. Ordinary magi were not difficult to deal with, but magus killers—those who fought without limits—were the true nightmare.

Assassin continued his desperate flight northward, exposed in the morning light.

Few pedestrians were on the bridge at this hour, and traffic was light. But even so—this is far too conspicuous!

The northern bank was sparsely populated, making it easier to hide. But the pursuers showed no regard for secrecy, hell-bent on hunting Assassin and his Master down.

Assassin was heading toward the least populated area nearby—the construction site. The northern oak forest was another option, but the tundra was too cold for his Master to endure.

Saber watched as they crossed the bridge, drawing closer to the abandoned district.

The sun climbed higher, illuminating the sky. In this near-deserted ghost town, Assassin finally set his Master down.

"Someone’s coming," Saber murmured, retreating into the darkened building. She sent a thought to her Master, William. "The battle you feared is about to begin. They will show no mercy, nor hesitate to kill. If you wish to survive, stay completely silent. Pretend you’re already dead."

The building’s interior was pitch dark. Without renovations, there was no light—only cold cement and steel. Damp, frigid, oppressive. The thick walls swallowed any hint of sunlight. But Saber needed no light. Neither did her Master.

"I am merely a Servant. I have no wishes of my own. I only seek victory. So stay here. When the war ends, make your wish." Saber’s voice was steady, unwavering. Her strength had already reached the pinnacle of all Servants.

"Saber, I don’t even know my enemies yet," William Kuhn said. "You keep saying they won’t show mercy, but they’re just like me—caught in the Holy Grail ritual. If they have no desire for the Grail, must we still fight to the bitter end?" He asked uneasily.

"Do you really think an ordinary person can resist the Grail’s temptation?" Saber countered, then added, "Besides, our enemy is none other than the one who built the Grail System itself."

The steel flash of a swordsman’s blade had already tested the Einzbern family—their mercenaries were dead. The homunculi, lacking combat prowess, had refrained from reckless action, but Saber knew their plans to seize the Holy Grail had fallen apart.

What she didn’t know yet was where the Lesser Grail was hidden.

"Unless their wish doesn’t require the Grail at all," Saber continued, "like me. All I need is to claim victory in the Holy Grail War. As for the wish itself, I couldn’t care less. So, just stay here and relax~"

Her voice carried a trace of magical compulsion as it drifted through the air. William nodded shortly after.

Saber withdrew her attention. She had given him a simple warning and saw no need for further conversation. No matter how obedient a Master might be, unexpected variables were inevitable. So, while she had convinced him, she had also left behind a subtle suggestion.

Her Master didn’t provide a strong supply of mana, but at the very least, he had enough self-awareness to understand his own limits. That was enough. She didn’t need his assistance—so long as he didn’t interfere, that was all that mattered.

She would win. Even if her opponent was Gilgamesh.

Gripping [Durandal] tightly, its blade as unyielding as ever, she resolved that should they clash again, it wouldn’t just end with a broken sword slicing through the King of Heroes’ elbow.

Saber vanished into the shadows. Her [Bounded Field] had already detected the enemy’s arrival. This was where her workshop proved its worth. Though she could previously see distant Servants with her keen vision, sound did not travel nearly as far.

Her temple was still in its infancy, the leyline’s magical energy yet to form a complete circuit. But it was functional enough. For instance, every word Assassin spoke within the construction site reached Saber’s ears with perfect clarity…

---

"Master, it should be safe here." Assassin’s voice was gentle as he carefully set his Master down.

She was a frail young woman with long, pale-gold hair, her face deathly white and tinged with exhaustion. It was clear she had suffered some sort of shock—so much so that she still hadn’t fully recovered her senses.

Her body trembled without pause, the icy wind cutting into her like an invisible blade. Saber had no doubt that she would fall ill any moment now.

"What do we do now?" Her voice wavered with panic, clinging to the hope that her Servant would have an answer. "We’re not running again, are we?"

Her face suddenly turned a sickly shade of green. She clutched her stomach, looking as though she might vomit at any moment.

"We stay here," Assassin answered simply. "You hide. Leave the rest to me."

He twirled his sword, forming a flourish so effortless it was almost elegant. Though an assassin by class, he made no attempt to conceal himself. Instead, he turned to face the battlefield directly.

"Servant Assassin, stepping forward to engage." His voice rang with resolve. "Berserker, since you’ve come this far, don’t you dare retreat. Today, we fight to the death!"

Murderous intent surged into the air, his blade glinting with a chill that cut to the bone.

So the Servant that had been pursuing Assassin was a Berserker. Saber hadn’t expected that.

The Berserker, his hair streaked with gray, looked nothing like the slaughtering war machines that rampaged across battlefields. If anything, he resembled a rear-line Caster.

It wasn’t just his appearance. His combat style was just as deceptive. He didn’t charge in wielding a weapon but instead summoned familiars—humanoid, but wild-eyed and frenzied. Warriors stripped of reason, knowing only how to wield a blade and fight. Nothing more than disposable pawns.

Even from several buildings away, Saber could sense the stench of curses clinging to them. If this were the Age of Gods, any magus would find the foulness unbearable.

But this battle itself did not concern her.

Her attention remained on Assassin’s Master.

Saber watched as the girl cautiously slipped into an abandoned workshop—likely a temporary rest area for laborers. But since it was still early morning, there was no one around.

She glanced around anxiously, shivering from the cold yet too afraid to light a fire.

A furnace stood before her, kindling stacked neatly beside it. A simple spell could ignite the wood and free her from the icy grip of the morning air.

Yet she hesitated, terrified that revealing her presence would bring danger upon her.

She kept glancing back and forth. Her body temperature had already dropped significantly, and given her fragile health, she wouldn’t last much longer.

She exhaled a weak breath into her cupped hands before struggling to pick up a piece of firewood. Just as she fumbled for something to light it with, Saber was already upon her.

Summoning a few [Dragon Tooth Warriors] as sentries, Saber moved in alone. Though a swordswoman, she had once walked the path of an assassin. She knew enough about stealth to take advantage of her target’s distracted state.

"Who’s there?!" Assassin’s Master spun around, panic flashing across her face as a burst of magical fire flickered to life in her palm. Its glow illuminated her pale, terrified expression.

She had noticed Saber.

But Saber’s blade was already at her throat.

"Now then, little girl," Saber asked, her voice steady as she peered down at the trembling figure. "What’s your name?"

She spoke with the face of Artoria Pendragon.

---

T/N: GRRR NO SABER PLEASSSSEEEEEEE DONT DO IT I KNOW YOURE DESPERATE TO 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!