This Is My Holy Grail War [197]

"Apologies, but this area is off-limits!"

The longsword pointed forward, and countless lines surfaced in Saber's vision.

The air around them seemed to freeze, yet behind Saber, a powerful melody still played. The stirring music filled her with an unshakable fighting spirit, igniting the blood in her veins.

Standing before Lancer, Saber felt her power surge once more.

【You have received the Guangling San buff. Your attributes have been further enhanced.】

Though she registered the system’s notification in her mind, Saber didn’t feel any direct change in her strength. She understood why—she had already been pushed to her peak in this Holy Grail War.

Aside from Luck, every one of her parameters had reached rank A or higher. A true jack-of-all-trades.

"Foreigner, your resolve is admirable," Lancer said. "But your actions are as naive as a child's. You could have walked away from this."

He looked older, his temples streaked with gray. Though he often spoke in a courteous tone, his fierce expression carried an undeniable authority—a pressure that commanded respect without words.

"I appreciate the compliment, but I don't believe I’ll die here," Saber replied, unimpressed. "More importantly, we are enemies to begin with."

She smirked. "If I left, wouldn’t that mean handing you the Holy Grail on a silver platter?"

"You may be small in stature, but you sure talk big, little girl," Lancer said, locking eyes with her. The battle could ignite at any moment.

"Death is not the end."

Saber knew this death would merely open the door to another battle. Unless she could personally seize the Holy Grail, this cycle would never break…

Yes, the Holy Grail. The omnipotent wish-granting vessel so many yearned for.

And yet—

Despite her fervor, Saber couldn’t deny a deep-seated revulsion toward it. Perhaps her obsession wasn’t with the Grail itself, but with the act of taking it.

"A warrior unafraid of death is a general’s most valuable soldier," Lancer said, raising his war banner. "And also the enemy a general most dreads to face."

It was an acknowledgment—he recognized Saber as a true warrior.

Seated atop his black warhorse, Lancer seemed alone, but Saber could already sense the stench of blood filling the air.

The overwhelming scent warped the space around them. A crimson mist spread, staining the battlefield.

Then—

Lancer charged.

His warhorse thundered forward, hooves slamming into the pavement with bone-shattering force. The ground cracked apart like a spiderweb, fractures spreading outward with each step.

The wind howled.

The warhorse reared, then surged ahead at full speed.

On the flat concrete, it ran as if galloping across an open plain, its momentum building to a terrifying peak.

Lancer chanted something—an incantation, perhaps.

Saber didn’t care. She had no time to listen. Every fiber of her being was focused on stopping the incoming assault.

In her hands, [Avalon] and [Durandal] intertwined—sword and sheath merged into a makeshift shield.

A moment later, steel met flesh.

The collision shook the battlefield, sending shockwaves rippling outward.

Saber had been confident she could withstand the charge head-on—

Then she felt it.

A bone-crushing force surged through her blade, traveling down to her arms.

Regret flashed through her mind.

"—!!"

With a deafening crash, Saber was sent flying, her body rocketing backward like a ragdoll.

The sheer kinetic force embedded her deep into a nearby wall.

She looked battered, but the impact alone wasn't enough to wound her seriously. It merely stung.

Still, the realization hit her—she was not in peak condition. Assassin’s attack had already left her severely injured. She couldn’t afford a prolonged fight.

"Are you alright?"

A soft voice—Victoria’s.

Saber lifted her head.

Only then did she realize—everything around her had changed.

"Of course."

With some effort, Saber wrenched herself free from the wall. Her body was still fragile—[Avalon] had yet to fully heal her wounds. The recent impact had only worsened her condition.

Old wounds layered atop new ones.

But injuries?

She was used to them.

"But you—" Victoria hesitated, as if wanting to say more.

"I'm fine."

Saber’s surroundings had transformed into something surreal—

A grand, apocalyptic spectacle.

It reminded her of Fuyuki.

The same blood-red skies.

The same feeling of impending doom.

But now—

There was an army.

Lancer’s army.

His forces stood behind him, countless soldiers marching forward under his command.

"Can you still stand?" Victoria asked.

She, too, had been dragged into Lancer’s [Reality Marble]. The Lancer had no intention of leaving any threats alive.

Hearing the question, Saber suddenly laughed.

"You know," she said, almost to herself, "there was once someone who called me a hero."

Her voice carried an almost wistful note.

"A self-important fool. He thought the entire world was full of worthless trash. Even the King of Conquerors and King of Knights—in his eyes, they were nothing special. And yet, for some reason, he said that I was someone who could walk beside him."

Saber took a step forward.

Her legs trembled, her body on the verge of collapse.

Victoria didn’t interrupt. She simply listened.

Ahead of them—

Lancer’s army marched within his [Reality Marble].

A tide of warriors, galloping across the bloodstained earth, their charge kicking up a storm of dust that blotted out the sun.

Closer.

Closer.

A lone, heavily wounded Saber stood against an entire army.

Seeing her, Victoria couldn't help but think of one word—

"Hero."

"No…"

The word slipped from Victoria’s lips before she even realized it.

"Hm? No what?"

Saber turned back, flashing a strange yet cheerful grin.

She looked broken—shattered, even.

And yet, her presence remained as radiant as ever.

"You think I'm about to collapse, don't you?"

There was no anger in her voice. She had already seen through Victoria’s thoughts.

Instead—

She laughed.

"To fall so easily—what kind of hero would that be?!"

Her voice changed—

Her face changed.

In that moment, her expression was unmistakable—

Cú Chulainn.

Her injuries were severe. [Avalon] had stopped the bleeding, but in her current state, she couldn't maintain Artoria’s form in battle.

Even if [Avalon] could repair the damage, her body still felt the wounds.

There was only one way forward—

Cú Chulainn.

Saber’s petite frame suddenly shifted.

In that instant, she became Ireland’s Child of Light.

Then—

She charged.

Alone—

Yet with the strength of an army.

The ground trembled beneath her feet.

Saber wasn’t charging in with reckless abandon, nor was he rushing toward certain death.

No—he was here to shatter the army head-on.

Once, he had been utterly overwhelmed when facing the King of Conquerors' vast legion. But now? The Saber standing here had been tempered to an unstoppable edge.

Faced with a wall of long spears forming an unyielding shield, Saber remained unnervingly calm. Even without his [Instinct], his sheer speed and strength allowed him to slip through the barrier of spears with ease.

With a flick of his sheath, he knocked aside the rows of lances.

Then, muscles tensed and veins bulging, he plunged into the enemy ranks.

Saber’s sword drove deep into a soldier’s body.

A moment later, he ripped it free.

Blood sprayed outward, staining the battlefield in violent arcs. A single crimson streak traced across Saber’s resolute face.

The enemy surged forward—more and more, endlessly.

And in Saber’s eyes—

A brilliant, blue light began to shimmer.

A thin smirk curled his lips.

Because as soon as he saw those strange, winding lines, he understood.

These were death.

The death lines of weapons were severed.

The death lines of armor were severed.

The death lines of flesh and blood—were severed.

Weapons split apart in an instant, their edges sliced with such clean precision that not even the slightest roughness remained.

Armor crumbled like fragile porcelain, the once-impenetrable steel shattering like brittle glass.

And finally—

The soldiers whose bodies were run through never even had the chance to struggle.

Where Saber went, the battlefield became a meat grinder.

Any soldier who dared to approach—

Was torn apart, crushed, erased.

No hesitation.

No retreat.

Saber had become a machine of slaughter—a demon from the depths of hell, bathed in carnage.

Had these soldiers been ordinary men, they would have long since been driven to madness by terror, fleeing in blind panic.

But they weren’t.

Still—

"Come on! Come on!"

A forest of spears loomed before him, an iron wall of death.

Yet no matter how many soldiers stood in his way—

They could not stop him.

Because Saber’s goal was Lancer—

The supreme commander seated at the heart of the army.

…And their enemy was utterly terrifying.

Saber knew his own strength.

Knew he was powerful.

But he also knew—

There was no way he could protect someone else in the midst of this.

The only way to ensure their safety—

Was to kill every last one of them.

Saber licked the blood from his arm, standing amid a circle of enemy soldiers.

Surrounded on all sides by long spears, he found himself contained—outnumbered.

One man was not enough.

Even he couldn’t avoid minor wounds in such a fight.

Should he heal himself now?

No.

The wounds were too severe.

If he kept fighting like this, there would be no saving himself.

Especially now that [Avalon’s] restoration had ceased—

He was relying purely on [Battle Continuation] to stay in this fight.

In that case…

"Rage, bloodlust, slaughter…"

A feral grin twisted Saber’s face.

Sword and sheath spun in his grip, cutting through the air with a savage intensity.

Words of madness spilled from his lips, and his body—

Turned redder.

The magecraft of the Age of Gods surged through him, fueling him, strengthening him.

Faster.

Stronger.

More.

I must be insane.

That was the only explanation.

Throwing away a certain chance at victory?

When he could have simply endured until the end—

Even if he lost the Grail for now, he could always wait for another opportunity.

And yet—

He had chosen not to survive.

He had chosen to fight.

And that choice made him wonder—

Am I really insane?

Or was it something else?

Because his thoughts had never been clearer.

His mind had never felt more unburdened.

No obstacles.

No doubts.

Just a single, absolute conviction—

To cut through everything standing in his way.

---

T/N: WOOOOO YESSS!!!

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!