This Is My Holy Grail War [136]

Achilles’ Noble Phantasm, [Diatrekhōn Astēr Lonkhē], was not one that could be easily activated. It came with numerous conditions, one of which required his opponent’s consent for a duel. Another limitation was that the target could not be female.

Although Saber had taken on the guise of Artoria through [Not For One’s Own Glory], her soul lacked a defined gender. Thus, the restriction regarding female opponents did not apply. Achilles, seeing Saber embody Heracles’ likeness, took a gamble—and it worked.

Saber had no reason to refuse the duel, fully aware of Achilles’ true name and weakness. She neither feared him nor hesitated to engage. Her consent, even if unspoken, sealed the conditions.

With the Noble Phantasm unleashed, the rules of the duel took hold. Saber’s Noble Phantasms, including Avalon, were rendered inert, forcing her into a semi-corporeal state. Her body dissolved into a black mist, though she maintained a grip on [Durandal] and [Avalon].

While [Avalon] could no longer unleash its full potential, Saber still wielded the sheath like a second blade.

For the first time, Saber faced an enemy as a spiritual entity. Though unintentional, she remained composed. The weight of the domain pressed against her, like being submerged thousands of meters beneath the ocean, crushed by immeasurable pressure.

It was suffocating, but Saber’s focus sharpened in the ethereal form.

She assessed her state: her Noble Phantasms were sealed, and [Not For One’s Own Glory] had vanished, leaving her raw abilities untouched but stripped of its enhancements.

Her [Mind's Eye (Fake)] remained active, and her swordsmanship and attributes were unchanged.

Finally, Saber turned her attention to Achilles.

The situation reminded her of her first encounter with Kirei Kotomine. But this time, she had confidence.

Adopting a combat stance, the shadowy figure that was Saber exuded a demonic aura, as if emerging from the depths of darkness.

“A spiritual body?” Achilles frowned. “Don’t tell me you can’t even materialize. Surely you can at least replicate the body you had before!” His irritation was clear—this wasn’t the kind of enemy he was used to fighting.

“My body?” Saber’s voice echoed, low and cold. The warm, golden light of Achilles’ Noble Phantasm filled the hall, yet Saber’s tone seemed to drain the warmth from the air. “That’s a secret,” she replied, refusing to elaborate.

“Tch. Even as a Heroic Spirit, you won’t show your true face. Hiding in the shadows like a cowardly rat,” Achilles sneered, contempt dripping from his words. “A fleeting life should be lived boldly. What’s the point of skulking in the dark? You’re no better than a corpse.”

“I’m still alive,” Saber replied firmly.

“Archer called you Medea, but I don’t buy it. Even your Heracles form is a sham. You’ve never shown your true self. Were you even remembered in history? Or was your existence so insignificant that your name was forgotten entirely?”

Saber’s crimson eyes flared from the black mist, their intensity like a predator’s. Achilles’ words had struck a nerve, as though a dormant wound had been ripped open.

He was right. Saber was no hero. There was no legacy, no name etched in history’s annals. He couldn’t even remember his own name, let alone a glorious past.

“Tell me,” Saber suddenly asked, his voice heavy with suppressed rage. “Do you know what the future holds for this Holy Grail War?”

“Hah! Easy. I win,” Achilles replied without hesitation, his arrogance unwavering.

“That’s the future,” Achilles added, his tone confident. “I came, I saw, I conquered.” Despite his disadvantage, Achilles refused to back down. But he failed to notice that his taunts had already pushed Saber over the edge.

“No, you don’t know!” Saber’s raspy voice transformed, ringing like a bell—clear, resonant, and commanding. “Because the dead know nothing of the future!”

With a resounding clatter, Saber cast [Avalon] to the ground. As the sheath fell, Saber stepped forward, voice rising with icy resolve.

“You’ve chosen the wrong time, the wrong place, and said the wrong words. And now, you’ve angered the wrong Servant.”

At that moment, Saber embodied death incarnate.

Shadowy hands gripped [Durandal]’s hilt as she surged forward like a black tempest. Her focus honed to razor precision, Saber’s fury fueled her every step. Achilles was the only thing in her world now, her mind and body in perfect synchrony.

Pure black light rippled around her, leaving trails of brilliance against the glowing domain. On Achilles’ battlefield, Saber’s every move burned like a comet streaking through the night.

Her first strike slashed through the air, a dazzling flash in the suffocating silence.

“[Hiken—Tsubame Gaeshi]!” Saber’s shout merged with her attack, aimed directly at Achilles.

Since her encounter with Sasaki Kojirō, Saber had tirelessly practiced the legendary technique in her own way. [Tsubame Gaeshi] was neither a Noble Phantasm nor a spell but pure, refined swordsmanship. Even under the suppression of Achilles’ Noble Phantasm, she could unleash it.

Guided by Chiron’s teachings, Saber had recently succeeded in replicating the technique. Though still imperfect, she could now execute the third strike.

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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!