This Is My Holy Grail War [52]

Assassin stayed hot on Lancer's trail.

As Lancer darted into Fuyuki City's streets under the downpour, the area was eerily empty, not a single pedestrian in sight. The sound of rain echoed on the deserted stone-paved roads, and a stray aluminum can rolled across a puddle near Assassin's feet. His black armor gleamed wet under the falling rain as Lancer's figure grew larger in his vision.

Closer… closer!

Gripping his longsword tightly, Assassin was fully prepared to unleash a relentless assault. In this form as Lancelot, the etched memories of endless combat and the innate mastery of his body fused seamlessly. To him, every weapon was an extension of his will, moving with precision as though it were part of his own being.

With a heavy swing, the ancient blade slashed upward. Its path sang through the air, slicing through rain and creating a mournful wail as it hurtled toward Lancer.

—Boom!

A freshly painted concrete wall split under the sheer force of the swing. What should have been solid resistance crumbled like tofu against the blow of a Servant.

The lethal glint of the sword’s edge streaked toward Lancer's throat in an instant.

But Lancer lived up to his name as a legendary Heroic Spirit. Leaping high into the air, he evaded the strike and kicked off the wall, flipping backward amidst the explosion of concrete fragments. Using the momentum, he lunged forward, spear aimed squarely at Assassin.

The swirling rain sprayed across Assassin's blurred face as the spear shot toward him. With a subtle tilt of his head, he narrowly avoided the blow. Lancer used the brief distraction to retreat, resetting his stance.

Even when disadvantaged in strength and agility, Lancer demonstrated flawless technique, proof that he hadn’t let his mentor's teachings go to waste. His refined combat skills enabled him to hold his ground against Assassin’s overwhelming pressure, if only for a time.

The chaos of their clash triggered the wail of distant police sirens, but such mortal rules were meaningless to these Heroic Spirits.

In the shadows of the rain-soaked city, a few bystanders peered in shock from under their umbrellas, frozen by the surreal scene unfolding before them. Yet neither Lancer nor Assassin paid them any mind. By morning, no doubt, there would be a few new entries in Fuyuki's psychiatric wards.

For the first time, Assassin was the one dominating the fight. However, he was also learning firsthand the frustration of dealing with a slippery opponent.

The enemy was right in front of him, and his superior stats should have secured victory. Yet despite this, Lancer remained elusive. The disparity between expectation and reality gnawed at Assassin’s patience, though he forced himself to stay calm.

Unlike humans, Servants didn’t experience physical exhaustion; their stamina depended solely on their mana reserves. How long they could fight hinged on three factors: their own mana pool, their Master’s supply, and their mana consumption during combat.

Assassin’s mana ranked at a respectable C—neither vast nor meager. With no flashy techniques or Noble Phantasms requiring excessive energy, his focus on melee combat conserved his resources. Furthermore, his Master was exceptionally talented, capable of providing him with a steady surplus of mana.

“Caster is weak right now. Why not go after her instead of chasing me down?” Lancer asked after resetting his stance, his tone half-joking. “Or are you her ally?” He was fishing for information, trying to discern Assassin’s intentions.

Assassin didn’t reply. His only answer was a barrage of relentless strikes.

Dialogue between Heroic Spirits held no meaning for Assassin. He was merely a man granted borrowed strength. Survival was his sole purpose. Just as he hunted Lancer now, he knew death was always hunting him in turn.

Realizing he wouldn’t get a response, Lancer retreated further. Amid the astonished gasps of a few bystanders, he slipped into the urban streets.

Fuyuki City wasn’t a bustling metropolis, but its main roads were still alive with flowing traffic.

In the darkness of the rain, Assassin’s figure was nearly invisible to the human eye, easily mistaken for a trick of light. Yet on the brightly lit streets, his presence stood out starkly—like an inky stain on pure white paper. Even as he dashed at full speed, the faintest afterimages of his movements flickered in street cameras.

The chase continued. Lancer’s strategy was clear: use the presence of witnesses to deter Assassin. But Assassin’s unyielding pursuit defied all logic, his resolve incomprehensible to the lancer. It was a pursuit destined for an end—whether in victory or death.

On the slick road, Lancer leapt onto the back of a moving pickup truck. Without hesitation, Assassin followed suit, landing on the nearest car.

The flat pursuit transformed into a dynamic, multi-dimensional battle. Cars became platforms as the combatants leapt between vehicles. Drivers, noticing the bizarre scene, clutched their steering wheels in panic, focusing solely on keeping their cars steady to avoid catastrophe.

Lancer seized a gas canister from the back of the truck and hurled it at Assassin without a second thought.

Boom!

The canister exploded mid-air, sending a fiery shockwave through the night. While the blast didn’t faze Assassin, the panicked driver of his platform car swerved wildly, throwing the vehicle off course.

Initially, Lancer had intended the canister as a simple distraction to slow Assassin. But as he observed the ensuing chaos, a sly smile crossed his lips.

The roar of the explosion, the screech of tires, and the panicked screams of bystanders plunged the street into chaos. Despite the cacophony, Assassin ignored the ringing in his ears. He leapt from the unstable vehicle, soaring toward Lancer’s truck with sword raised high.

Like an avalanche crashing down, Assassin’s blade slammed into Lancer’s spear.

The truck’s tires burst from the impact, and the vehicle skidded to a halt. Yet Lancer not only withstood the blow but also found an opening to free one hand mid-deflection.

A Rune?

In the air, Lancer traced a symbol resembling an “F.” The rune burned in the rain, a glowing sigil that floated without anchoring to any surface.

Using the rune to empower his strength, Lancer countered with renewed force. At the same time, he turned toward a nearby gas tanker and ignited it with the rune’s intense heat.

The resulting explosion engulfed the street in a fiery blaze. The impact transformed the area into a charred wasteland, grinding all traffic to a halt.

Through the haze of smoke and fire, Assassin emerged unscathed but grim. The brief lull in their fight had allowed Lancer to prepare. Crimson mana now burned brightly at the tip of his spear—a clear signal.

Lancer was ready to unleash his Noble Phantasm.

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T/N: so many gas leaks

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!