This Is My Holy Grail War [159]

"The battle has no clear victor," Saber murmured, watching as delicate snowflakes drifted from the sky. The dim streetlights flickered, casting long shadows. She frowned slightly. "We should end this here."

"Are you afraid of fighting?" Assassin’s lips curled up ever so slightly.

This one was troublesome—far too troublesome.

But Saber was calm. She had fought in multiple Holy Grail Wars. She was a warrior, one who had long since learned the rules of survival.

"There are too many prying eyes here. You must have sensed them."

It was already past midnight, but the darkness of night wasn’t enough to conceal the watching gaze of others.

"That’s not a reason to stop," Assassin replied, twirling his blade through the air in a fluid arc. He showed no signs of withdrawing.

Saber had not expected this—Assassin didn’t care at all about revealing his presence.

"Or perhaps… this is something that concerns you?"

Assassin raised an eyebrow, as if provoking her. But his next words made Saber realize she had misread him.

"You are the most skilled swordsman I have ever encountered—the only opponent to have lasted more than three exchanges with me. The so-called Imperial Guards, the elite retainers—I cut them all down in a single stroke."

His words poured forth like a flood, brimming with exhilaration.

The dark green robe he wore was thin, its color out of place against the falling snow and the gray concrete below. His attire was simple, without any extravagant embroidery or ornamentation.

His hair was neatly tied back, his face clean-shaven. He carried no possessions—nothing of value—except for the sword gleaming coldly in his hand.

A masterful swordsman, yet an Assassin.

Who could he be?

By instinct, Saber had assumed he was a killer, a shadowed executioner. After all, that was what his class dictated. But his sword, his robe, his presence—each element stood out too distinctly.

Assassin’s obsidian-black eyes gleamed with a piercing light, as if they could draw one’s very soul into their depths.

Then, he moved.

His gaze locked onto Saber, unwavering beneath the glow of the streetlamp.

His steps were light—unnaturally light. His straw sandals barely made a sound against the pavement.

But his speed—his speed was staggering.

Saber had to rely on [Instinct] to track his movements.

With a swift motion, she crossed her sword and scabbard before her—bracing for impact.

Clang—!

The crash of steel erupted like thunder.

A deafening resonance rang through the night, sparks exploding into the air.

It was like standing before a rushing train and taking the full force of the collision—a landslide of power crashing down.

The force of the impact shook Saber’s arms.

She gritted her teeth, slamming her foot into the ground to stabilize herself.

Crack—!

The cement beneath her shattered, fragments scattering in every direction.

And then—

Crash!

Both combatants were hurled back, carving a deep trench through the solid pavement, like a plow splitting earth.

The next moment—

Boom!

Saber’s back slammed into a streetlamp, shattering it completely.

Darkness.

The entire area was plunged into pitch black.

Not just darkness—total absence of light.

The moon was buried beneath thick clouds, leaving nothing—no source of illumination at all.

Yet the battle was far from over.

Even with the keenest eyesight, nothing could be seen in this void.

Because this wasn’t just darkness. It was a complete severance of light.

A hidden blade whipped forth from the abyss.

Saber’s [Instinct] warned her of the attack—she quickly raised her scabbard to guard, then retaliated with [Durandal].

Neither could see the other clearly—only faint silhouettes in the lightless void.

But neither needed to see.

A swordsman and an Assassin… could perceive each other without sight.

Their minds were crystal clear, untouched by the dark.

"You enjoy battle, don’t you?" Saber asked.

"I never realized it before," Assassin admitted, his voice tinged with self-reflection. "But thinking back… perhaps I always did."

Though their words continued, so did their blades—striking, parrying, clashing.

Saber lunged forward—another impact, another explosion of sparks.

For an instant, the embers of their battle illuminated their faces.

"You and I are different," Saber said amidst the struggle. "I do not enjoy fighting."

Assassin looked almost… surprised.

"You don’t?"

"This war has only just begun," Saber continued. "There is no need to fight to the death the moment you encounter another Servant."

She had drawn him out to attract attention—not to engage in a meaningless duel.

"A warrior who dislikes dueling?" Assassin’s tone carried genuine intrigue.

"Yes," Saber answered. "Needless fights are just that—needless."

"Then why set foot on the battlefield?"

Assassin’s lips pressed together, his delicate brows furrowing slightly.

"You should have stayed home."

It was as if… he saw her as a woman who should not have been here.

Saber met his gaze. "And why did you join the Holy Grail War?"

Assassin exhaled lightly.

"To save someone," he said.

"And you?"

They tested each other with their answers. Neither could yet tell who was lying—or if they both were.

"Nothing else matters to me," Assassin continued, "except winning. And surviving. That’s all."

Survival.

Saber sensed it then—the deep sorrow buried in Assassin’s heart.

And he made no effort to conceal it.

Unlike Sasaki Kojirō, whose mind was as tranquil as still water, this Assassin fought with emotions laid bare.

It was almost as if he was pouring his anguish into each strike.

"My most important person is already dead."

His voice turned sharp, laced with bitterness.

"And now that I think about it, I regret it more than anything."

His grip on his sword tightened.

"I should have killed them all—every last one of them!"

A surge of murderous intent burst from him, roaring toward the heavens.

But it was not directed at Saber.

It was directed at his past.

"Ah… Ah… Ah…!"

A long, weary sigh—three times over.

Only then did Assassin regain his composure.

"My apologies," he muttered. "I let old memories get the better of me."

The night concealed their faces, but Saber could sense it—he was bowing.

"It’s fine," she replied calmly. "If not for that regret, you wouldn’t be here, would you?"

A fellow lost soul.

Someone who had sacrificed everything for their most precious person, only to lose it all in the end…?

Saber tried to read between his words.

Yet the more she analyzed, the more she felt—

Assassin was putting on a performance.

"I admire your swordsmanship," Assassin said suddenly. "Holding a sword in one hand and a scabbard in the other—odd, but highly effective when paired with magecraft."

His eyes gleamed.

"So why haven’t you used any spells?"

His combat instincts were razor-sharp. He had immediately caught onto her hesitation.

Saber didn’t answer.

She was conserving mana.

And she wouldn’t give away that information.

"This is only the first night of the Holy Grail War," Saber frowned. "I see this as a war of attrition—there’s no reason to go all out so soon."

"...So you're leaving?"

"You still want to keep fighting?" Saber raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. "At this rate, I could go until sunrise."

She meant it. Close combat alone barely drained her mana. This was what she excelled at.

Assassin remained silent for a brief moment before finally speaking.

"Then… until we meet again."

Sneaky.

From that response alone, Saber knew—they were also conserving mana.

This wasn’t just a game of clashing swords.

Mana was a resource—one worth seizing, hoarding, and rationing.

She had already plundered an abundance of magical energy from the mercenaries and magi she had slain earlier. It was a large supply, but like all things, it was finite.

Without a continuous source, even the deepest reserves would eventually run dry.

"Then, I’ll be taking my leave."

As Saber turned to go, something stirred.

The creatures lurking in the shadows, those unseen eyes that had been watching from the darkness—finally, they emerged.

From the cracks of the night, they broke free of their husks.

Silken wings unfurled.

A swarm of insects shed their cocoons, transforming into butterflies as they took flight.

Their iridescent azure wings shimmered under the pale snowfall of the Far East.

Silent, yet deliberate, they fluttered into the endless black of the night.

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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!