This Is My Holy Grail War [131]

Mordred was lounging on the couch in their rented inn, idly playing with a cat. In the dull moments of the Holy Grail War, she found amusement in teasing the feline.

Her Master, Kairi Shishigou, lay sprawled on the inn’s comfortable bed—originally Mordred’s preferred spot. But considering the need for her Master to recover his energy quickly, she had graciously relinquished it and instead settled for the couch to rest and play with the cat.

Had time not been so tight, Kairi might have preferred recuperating in a graveyard rather than the inn.

Last night’s events had left both of them drained. Mordred had encountered her father, lost control of her emotions, and unleashed her Noble Phantasm with explosive force, nearly depleting Kairi’s magical energy reserves. Even now, he hadn’t fully recovered. It was nearly midday when Kairi finally raised his head from the bed, the first words out of his mouth the same as always:

“If I were lying in a graveyard, I’d probably recover faster.”

He shut his eyes again, as if lost in thought.

“Not a chance!” Mordred cut him off abruptly. “Hey, you’re still human! How could anyone recover faster in a dark, damp place like that?”

Kairi rubbed his temples, his rugged face unable to mask his weariness.
“It’s just a habit,” he replied. “Physiologically speaking, this bed is better. But anyone would need time to adjust to unfamiliar surroundings. Still, considering the King was kind enough to give up her royal chambers for my sake, it’d be ungrateful to complain further.”

“It’s no problem,” Mordred said, scratching the back of her head with a grin. “After all, I’m a knight. Humility and courtesy are part of the job.”

“Well, let’s eat and head out,” Kairi said, straightening his clothes. Just as he reached for the door, a faint buzzing noise came from a magical device on the bedside table.

Mordred turned to look at the peculiar mage’s contraption—a kind of magical fax machine—furiously scribbling out text at a speed beyond human capability. When Kairi picked up the freshly written page, Mordred leaned unceremoniously against his shoulder to read along.

The moment she saw the words, Mordred exclaimed, “That priest Shirou is lying, isn’t he?!”

“I’m not sure,” Kairi replied, examining the document carefully. “But I don’t see why they’d have any reason to deceive us.”

“Saber is Medea?!” Kairi muttered, stroking his small, scruffy beard in confusion.

“Medea?” Mordred froze for a moment, then quickly shook her head. “Impossible. Absolutely not!” Her eyes turned icy. “Saber is definitely the King of Knights. The sword sheath doesn’t lie, and neither does her appearance!”

“This judgment came from Archer,” Kairi explained. “She’s as convinced of Saber’s identity as you are. But Saber has shape-shifting abilities, and if she transformed into the King of Knights, it’d make sense. Medea, after all, is a legendary sorceress from the Age of Gods, with mysteries that surpass modern mages.”

At the mention of magic and mystery, Mordred’s fiery demeanor cooled. A sword sheath like [Avalon], an unidentified holy sword, and the ability to shapeshift—there were indeed some uncanny similarities to her father. Yet, there were also inconsistencies. Her obsession with her father had clouded her judgment, but now she reconsidered. This enemy Saber was slightly different from the King of Knights she knew.

“She’s dumber than my father,” Mordred remarked, her tone derisive. “Like when the King hadn’t yet pulled the sword from the stone.”

“Perhaps they’re just a different aspect of the same Heroic Spirit,” Kairi suggested. “After all, a Servant is merely one facet of an existence.”

“You’re right,” Mordred said, clenching her fists. “We’ll figure it out once I see Saber in person. I’ll confirm her identity—with my sword.” Her determined expression left no room for negotiation.

“Alright, alright,” Kairi said, pausing before adding, “By the way, can you drive?” He quickly retracted the question, laughing. “Why am I even asking? There’s no way someone from ancient times could know how to handle a car.”

“I can!” Mordred shot back confidently. “Whether it’s a car or some strange breed of horse, as long as I hold the reins, it’ll obey me!” She was, after all, imbued with the [Riding] skill by the Holy Grail.

Kairi stared at her in stunned silence for a moment. Mordred assumed her brilliance had left him speechless.

“Then you’ll drive.”

“Got it! No problem!” Mordred gave a thumbs-up, her excitement obvious.

Their first stop was to stock up on provisions. Together, they ventured into a desolate town. Though it had settled into an eerie calm, the lingering tension from Assassin’s handiwork was still palpable.

The once-bustling streets were now sparse, and even thriving shops showed signs of decline. The shopkeeper, unkempt and frazzled, seemed to revive as soon as Mordred and Kairi entered.

What followed was a spree of indulgence for Mordred—lavish purchases paid entirely with her Master’s funds. From daily necessities to road rations, nothing was left behind.

As they loaded the last of their goods, Mordred suddenly asked, “Master?”

“What is it, Saber?”

“I was just wondering—since you’ve spent all your budget on this stuff... How exactly are we getting a ride?” Mordred pressed. “Horses cost money, cars need fuel, and we don’t even have one. Are we walking to the fight? I mean, I’m fine with it, but you’d keel over.”

Kairi didn’t respond right away. Instead, he smiled subtly, scanning the area. His suspicious behavior didn’t escape Mordred, who followed him as he approached a red sedan parked nearby.

“What are you planning?”

“Shh…” Kairi gestured for silence as he lit a cigarette, tracing a subtle enchantment in the air.

Thick smoke seeped into the car door, and with a soft “click,” the lock disengaged.

Mordred watched, impressed yet bewildered, as Kairi deftly climbed into the driver’s seat.

“I thought you’d just smash the window,” she remarked. “Didn’t expect you to be so... refined.”

“Smashing the window would be too obvious,” Kairi said. “Broad daylight and all. Can’t have ordinary people getting involved, can we? Think of it as the King requisitioning a vehicle.”

“So, at night, you’d smash it, then?” Mordred asked as she climbed into the car, showing no shame about the theft.

“Absolutely.” Kairi nodded candidly. “It’d be faster and save mana.”

“Whatever. Let’s get moving!” Mordred ordered, pointing forward as she closed the door. She quickly retrieved some food from the bags.

“Wait a second,” Kairi said, realizing he was in the wrong seat. “Weren’t you driving?”

“Shut up! You’ve got nothing better to do, so drive!” Mordred retorted, covering her ears dramatically.

“Fine. Eat up—you’ll need your strength,” Kairi said, starting the engine.

“Don’t worry. Even if it’s my father with [Avalon], I won’t lose,” Mordred declared, tearing into a loaf of bread.

“Just a gut feeling,” Kairi muttered as the car roared to life.

“Cool!” Mordred exclaimed, savoring the wind and scenery as the vehicle sped along. Though she claimed to detest medieval aesthetics, the novelty of the modern world thrilled her.

Their journey continued, the road narrowing as they neared enemy territory. It was then that Mordred noticed something colossal—a fortress floating in the sky.

“That’s... Caster’s Noble Phantasm?!” she asked, astonished.

“Assassin’s [Hanging Gardens of Babylon],” Kairi confirmed, steering carefully.

“She’s an Assassin? Feels more like a mage,” Mordred remarked.

“A Servant’s class doesn’t always match their methods,” Kairi said.

Mordred rolled her eyes but said nothing. As they approached the fortress, a shadow darted through the sky—a figure draped in robes and wielding a staff.

“Is that an enemy Caster?” Mordred asked, her instincts sharp.

“No,” Kairi replied grimly. “That’s Saber.”

“What?!” Mordred’s jaw dropped. “No way. That woman isn’t my father!”

“She is if Archer’s reports are accurate. Saber—Medea. That’s their judgment,” Kairi said, his voice tinged with doubt.

Before Mordred could retort, the figure vanished into the Hanging Gardens.

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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!