This Is My Holy Grail War [198]

The sound that filled the air wasn’t water; it was the slick, viscous sensation coiling around Saber’s ankles. Transformed into a child of light, every step he took landed upon scarlet. The setting sun left only a sky bathed in red.

The overwhelming stench of blood and killing intent pressed down on his chest like a boulder, suffocating—but he was not one to waver. The relentless combat had long tempered Saber’s heart into one untouched by turmoil.

Yet, this oppressive sensation did not stem from the battlefield’s bloodlust. It came from the wound—a sword piercing straight through his chest. Every breath carried a weighty pressure, and an endless emptiness clung to his body.

Forward. Always forward.

Saber’s gaze remained fixed ahead. He saw them—the black-armored soldiers marching in perfect unison, wielding heavy crossbows, closing in step by step. He pressed on, but just then, Victoria called out to him.

“Be careful,” she warned.

The distance between Saber and Victoria grew, yet the swordsman never looked back. He moved as if he intended to hurl himself straight into Lancer’s vast army, resembling a hero charging toward his inevitable fate.

Closer. Closer still.

His pace quickened as the crossbowmen raised their weapons, aiming toward the sky.

A rain of arrows darkened the heavens.

At this range, there was no doubt—he would be riddled with arrows. There were too many bowmen, too many projectiles, covering every inch of space ahead.

Yet Saber merely cast a single glance at the deadly downpour before nonchalantly turning his head.

“Hey, what’s your name?” he asked, casually brushing aside his long blue ponytail, revealing a glimpse of sharp canines.

From Victoria’s perspective, Saber had already been swallowed by the storm of arrows. Her voice trembled with fear—yet amidst it, laughter erupted.

A carefree, unrestrained laugh.

“Hahaha! I asked you—what’s your name?”

The arrows fell.

Each one found its mark on the ground, embedding themselves into the earth, yet not a single one touched Saber.

The battlefield was a sea of arrows—but he stood untouched, as if the storm had simply parted around him.

“Victoria,” the girl answered in a daze before quickly adding, “It means ‘victor.’”

“‘Victor,’ huh?” Saber turned his back to the army, the protection of Cu Chulainn’s evasion blessing taking effect. A single glance at the bowmen was enough to render their arrows meaningless. “That name suits me. After all, I am the victor!”

Before the words had fully left his lips, another volley of arrows rained down.

It poured like an autumn storm, drenching the land in a deluge of lethal steel. Yet no matter how many fell, every last one curved away from Saber’s form.

Lancer had noticed the ineffectiveness of the assault. His army quickly adapted—crossbowmen pulled back, making way for the cavalry.

In an era before stirrups, only the elite could fight on horseback. Yet Saber saw nothing but an endless tide of mounted warriors. The cavalry abandoned their crossbows, drawing the blades at their waists.

Dust surged into the sky, rising like a storm ready to swallow the world whole. The thunderous cries of the cavalry echoed like the howls of hell itself.

“I can’t protect you,” Saber told Victoria. “Take care of yourself.”

The towering swordsman twirled [Durandal] in his grip, his blade carving a graceful arc through the air. Before Victoria could even react, he charged into the enemy ranks.

One man. One sword.

Before him—countless soldiers, countless horses, countless blades.

Saber plunged into the army like a single drop of water falling into the ocean. At first, it seemed as if he would be swallowed whole.

But the next instant—

A storm erupted.

The blue swordsman spun and surged through the cavalry, an unstoppable force. No one could halt his advance. No one survived even a single breath in his path.

Billowing smoke obscured Victoria’s vision, but the screams of dying men filled the air. Severed limbs and shattered steel occasionally burst forth from the carnage.

She stood as a mere observer.

A target of Lancer’s forces.

And yet—not a single soldier dared approach her.

Not because they didn’t want to.

But because they couldn’t.

Saber was a dagger stabbing deep into the heart of the enemy ranks. His goal was Lancer himself—the general commanding the army.

The pounding of hooves churned the earth into a thick haze. Saber moved like a shadow through the dust. The ground beneath him cracked, stone fragments scattering like shrapnel. In his hands, both sword and sheath became instruments of death.

Dark blood stained his blue garments a deep crimson.

Charge.

Charge forward.

Only Shura—only a demon of carnage—could describe the Saber of this moment.

A mad warrior wielding his sword against heaven itself, carving through an army like a force of nature.

He did not protect others.

He did not ensure Victoria’s safety amidst the chaos.

He never intended to.

From the very beginning, his only goal was to slaughter all Servants.

An enemy that was dead no longer posed a threat.

He gathered all his strength and leaped high, unleashing a roar that shook the battlefield.

His powerful [Magic Resistance] dulled the effects of external sorcery—

But this was different.

This was his own magic, drawn from the depths of his being.

Bloodlust fueled him, amplifying his power beyond reason. The endless hunger for slaughter sent him spiraling into a frenzy.

The intoxicating rush of it surged through his veins, devouring his reason piece by piece.

So red...

His eyes, flooded with blood, saw only a world bathed in crimson.

Your blood is beautiful...

For the first time, under the influence of bloodlust and battle frenzy, Saber felt the thrill of combat—the intoxicating pleasure of tearing apart his enemies, of dancing at the edge of death.

No wonder Cu Chulainn relished this feeling—this exhilarating, unrestrained bloodbath.

The dense formations of spearmen inevitably left him with wounds. The closer he got to Lancer, the more difficult the battle became. His handsome face was streaked with vivid crimson, and the pain gnawed at his mind, stripping away the last shreds of reason.

The agonized wails around him were sweet music to his ears. His burning mind was filled with only one desire—destruction.

Shatter.

Break.

Tremble.

"Your screams… how sweet they sound~"

Before his sanity fully collapsed, he remembered only one thing—he had to kill Lancer.

Through the relentless charge, countless wounds marred Saber’s body. Yet his monstrous endurance and exceptional [Battle Continuation] allowed him to shrug off every injury. No ordinary blade could deliver a fatal blow to him.

Instead, the pain only drove him deeper into madness. The beast within stretched its limbs freely, and he began to laugh.

A child of light possessed no Mana Burst, no way to flood his body with magical energy and instantly close the distance to Lancer.

And so, he simply slaughtered his way forward, step by step!

Closer… closer!

Hahahaha!

Uncontrollable madness swallowed all reason as Saber dashed in a straight line toward the general, the most heavily guarded man on the battlefield.

—Splurt!

There was no space to evade. Countless spears pierced through his body.

But he did not fall.

With a single swing, he cleaved both soldier and spear in half.

His vision grew even redder.

"Let me—kill you!" he roared at Lancer.

This was Saber’s second time battling amid the chaos of an army.

But this time, he was wilder. More proficient in wielding his power.

The elite soldiers fought with all their might to protect their general.

Yet in the end, the formation was broken.

Corpses piled high, their lifeless bodies the only remnants of their futile resistance. The fewer soldiers remained, the more Saber's initial exhilaration faded into exhaustion.

The remaining troops formed a desperate shield around their commander.

Saber lacked any technique to break through in an instant, so he cut them down one by one.

There were many of them.

But Saber refused to fall.

How many had he killed?

He had lost count.

Only that his sword had never stopped swinging.

That the blood had never stopped flowing.

One last charge!

Step!

With an explosive burst, Saber swung both sword and sheath wide, transforming into a streak of azure light as he shot toward Lancer.

Blood had long since soaked his entire body, but he mustered every last ounce of strength for one final push. Another storm of slaughter followed.

Lancer's army had dwindled.

And Saber… was on the verge of burning out.

Beyond the thick armor of the spearmen, he could sense Lancer’s unyielding will.

If Lancer chose to retreat now, Saber would not have the strength left to pursue him.

But thinking was beyond him at this point.

His mind was a haze.

Until—

Lancer’s voice rang out.

He saw the general leading his last guards, charging toward him.

"The banner of my Qin Empire shall never fall in disgrace while I yet draw breath!"

Saber vaguely heard Lancer’s words, though he wasn’t sure if that was what was truly said.

At that moment, he met Lancer’s gaze.

This was no cautious strategist.

The blazing fervor in Lancer’s eyes reminded Saber of someone—

The very man he was imitating.

Cu Chulainn.

"Yeah… a hero doesn't fall so easily. Hahahaha!"

Saber laughed as he welcomed the final clash.

His sword plunged forward—

A cold, merciless blade pierced through Lancer’s body.

Yet the fountain of blood did not send Lancer to his knees.

Behind him, the battle standard still shone with the brilliance of his undying resolve.

Lancer lifted his spear, mustering every last ounce of his strength, and thrust it toward Saber.

They impaled each other.

Lancer let out a liberated laugh.

As if he had always longed for a warrior’s death on the battlefield.

—And then, it was over.

Saber stood alone atop a mountain of corpses, leaning against [Durandal] for support.

He was exhausted. Weary beyond words.

But above him, the sky had begun to change.

The world itself was collapsing.

With Lancer’s death, this heart-realm had begun to crumble.

And then—

The rain began to fall.

As if the heavens themselves mourned the carnage.

Warm droplets soaked Saber’s face.

The sun had not yet emerged, only thick, oppressive clouds remained.

He lifted his head toward the sky.

He knew—light would return soon.

But for now… he was simply too tired.

He did not know how much time had passed when a voice called his name.

Slowly, he turned his head.

Through his hazy vision, he once again saw that familiar woman.

"...Victoria, right?"

"You won," she said. "This name suits you far better than it does me."

"Victory, huh… A fine name indeed. But still…"

His vision blurred further, yet his [Battle Continuation] refused to let him collapse.

"...he never truly lost, did he?"

---

T/N: hmm? did he forget Victoria's name I could've sworn he knew before

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!