This Is My Holy Grail War [124]

“Don’t you dare separate me from the King of Knights, you coward hiding in the shadows!” Mordred’s furious roar echoed through the dense fog that veiled her surroundings. Her crimson eyes burned with rage as she stared helplessly into the haze where her "father" had vanished, the scene a cruel reflection of the past she had endured.

Her corrupted blade lashed out in vain, slashing wildly in the direction where Artoria had disappeared. Charging forward with reckless abandon, she found only a solid stone wall blocking her path.

Crash!

A punch from her gauntleted fist reduced the wall to rubble. The fury within her demanded an outlet, and she turned it on anything nearby. Walls, streetlights, even a hapless trash can on the roadside—all were obliterated by her wrath.

After wreaking havoc on countless pieces of public property, Mordred’s berserk rage finally began to subside. Poisonous mist clung to her body, an oppressive shroud that prompted her to remember something important: her Master.

As her rage cooled, she channeled mana into her sword. A burst of crimson lightning surged outward, dispelling the fog around her in an instant.

When the haze cleared, Mordred looked around to find only stillness. The night was silent, her father nowhere to be seen. Even the Assassin who had spirited Artoria away had vanished without a trace.

The bounded field created by her opponent’s Noble Phantasm seemed to have served its purpose—concealing her father’s retreat and frustrating her pursuit.

“Assassin, you bastard—I’ll kill you!” Mordred snarled, seething with frustration as she glared at the empty sky.

Finally, she sent a telepathic message to her Master.

Master, are you unharmed?

I’m fine. I got out of the fog before it could do any damage, Kairi Shishigou’s gruff voice responded, offering Mordred some reassurance. I even managed to set up a repelling bounded field, so you can fight freely now.

Hah! I knew you were too stubborn to die, Mordred quipped.

Aw, were you worried about me? he teased.

Shut up.

All right, all right. After a brief pause, Kairi’s tone grew more serious. By the way… that person. Was she really your “father”?

Without a doubt, Mordred replied coldly, her hatred unmistakable. I’d recognize her even if she turned to ash. My father came prepared, wielding [Avalon] along with a sword I didn’t recognize—but I could tell it was no ordinary blade. It’s a holy sword.

Do you think you can win? Kairi asked, cutting straight to the point.

Hard to say. Even the prideful Mordred couldn’t deny the difficulty of facing her father armed with the sheath of [Avalon]. But her spirit refused to admit defeat. I won’t know until I try. No way am I backing down.

If they’ve retreated, we should—

“Wait!” Mordred interrupted. Her tone shifted sharply as she sensed something familiar.

What’s wrong?

Father is still here! Her voice brimmed with excitement. I can feel her mana. It’s close!

Like a hound catching the scent of blood, Mordred’s eyes gleamed with feral intensity.

I’m going after her. Can you handle the enemy Master?

Count on me, Kairi assured her.

Never thought I’d trust a mage this much. Don’t make me regret it, Mordred muttered before sprinting toward the source of her father’s mana. But her instincts, honed to razor sharpness, suddenly screamed a warning.

She leapt backward just as an arrow streaked past her face, close enough to brush her cheek. The projectile struck a wall behind her and detonated, sending debris and dust flying.

Cough, cough. Waving away the smoke, Mordred squinted to see a figure perched on a nearby rooftop. The silhouette of the archer who had fired at her came into focus.

“Why are you stopping me from seeing my father?!” Mordred’s rage erupted again. First Assassin, and now this Archer—twice she had been blocked from her goal. The repeated frustration stoked her fury into a blazing inferno.

“What… your father?” the Archer asked, seemingly bewildered. “Never mind. Whatever your reason, I won’t let you pass.”

“Anyone who stands in my way will die,” Mordred growled, her voice low and dangerous. Her words carried the calm before a storm. “It doesn’t matter if you’re Assassin or Archer!”

Boom!

The ground cracked beneath her as Mordred launched herself forward. Her body crackled with crimson lightning, mana radiating from her as if she were an unstoppable force of destruction.

Arrows rained down, but Mordred didn’t flinch. Instead, she charged straight through them, her body encased in a barrier of malevolent energy. The bolts of magic that trailed her corrupt sword consumed every arrow, leaving nothing but faint sparks in their wake.

One arrow. Two arrows.

No matter how many Archer unleashed, none could pierce the tempest of mana surrounding her. She pressed on, a living juggernaut grinding the path beneath her into dust.

“A beast,” Archer muttered under his breath, drawing his bow again. Multiple arrows appeared in his grasp. “A mindless berserker. You’re similar to our Saber, but entirely different.”

“What’s different?!” Mordred demanded, her voice a furious snarl. She was desperate to know—what separated her from the King of Knights?

“A pure warrior versus a loathsome beast,” Archer replied, his words cutting deep. “You call her ‘father,’ but I think you’ve mistaken her for someone else. Your hearts couldn’t be more different. Even if your faces are similar, the blood running through your veins is nothing alike.”

He sighed heavily.

“The blood isn’t the same...”

Archer’s words were like pouring gasoline onto a raging inferno. The reaction wasn’t mere ignition—it was an explosion.

“You bastard… shut up! Shut your mouth!”

Denied by my father, fine. But you? A stranger?! How dare you lecture me?! Mordred’s fury surged. Her fiery gaze grew bloodshot, veins of red threading through her eyes.

In that moment, her all-consuming obsession transformed into raw power. The corrupted holy sword in her hand burned ever brighter, its crimson glow deepening into a pitch-black hue.

The mana surrounding her thickened, crackling like hellfire. Clad in this infernal storm, Mordred lifted her flaming, lightning-wreathed blade. She looked like an apocalyptic figure—an avatar of destruction risen from the depths of the underworld.

Though her sword was incapable of unleashing its True Name, Mordred didn’t need it. She had learned to wield its overwhelming force simply by memorizing its sensation. Time and time again, she had felt the surge of power, practicing until she could replicate it without effort.

Now, seeing her father had unearthed the deepest core of her obsession.

“Arthur!” Mordred roared, surging forward toward the source of her father’s mana.

But Archer’s arrows continued to streak through the air, cutting off her every approach. He dared not engage her directly, yet his precise shots kept her from advancing.

“You’re so annoying!”

Boom!

A casual swing of her sword—one that carried her hatred—manifested as a massive blast of mana.

Her cursed blade rose high, then descended with devastating force. Mordred skipped the preamble of unleashing a Noble Phantasm and simply let loose the destructive power within. The attack leveled the building Archer had perched on, reducing it to rubble.

Yet, from the debris, Archer emerged unharmed, dusting himself off as though nothing had happened.

“Tch,” Mordred spat, realizing he was merely stalling her. No matter how she attacked, Archer refused to engage fully, his evasions frustrating her to no end.

Her irritation turned into pain when a well-aimed arrow struck her shoulder. Though her armor absorbed most of the damage, Mordred felt the sting—Archer had figured out how to bypass her mana defenses.

This wasn’t just any Archer. He was versatile, skillful, and cautious, retreating swiftly whenever she got too close. As he withdrew, he loosed arrows to slow her down, deftly maintaining the distance between them.

It was as if he were flying a kite, keeping Mordred just out of reach while wearing her down.

Mordred gritted her teeth. I don’t have time for this!

Her father’s mana was fading rapidly, like a flame about to be snuffed out. If she let Archer keep delaying her, she might lose her chance to confront Artoria altogether.

I can’t let that happen! Anxiety began to creep into her rage as desperation took hold.

Master, I’m going to unleash my Noble Phantasm. Be ready. The message she sent to Kairi wasn’t a request for permission—it was a warning.

Already? Kairi hesitated, his tone laced with concern.

What does it matter? I’ll need it eventually. Don’t be stingy.

Fine, just conserve some mana. Things are getting tricky on my end too.

Yeah, yeah, I’ll be careful. Mordred smirked, halting her pursuit of Archer. Standing still for the first time, her armored helmet began to shift and transform. The twisted metal peeled away, revealing her face—contorted with a dangerous grin.

“Too bad Father isn’t here to witness this!” she jeered.

The blade in her hand erupted with blinding crimson lightning, its radiance so intense it illuminated the night sky like a second sun.

“[Clarent Blood Arthur]!” The True Name of her Noble Phantasm rang out as her sword, augmented by her obsessive hatred, reached a power far surpassing its usual limits.

This A+-rank Noble Phantasm surged to even greater heights, aimed directly at Archer—the obstacle standing between her and her father.

“A Noble Phantasm?” Archer murmured, lowering his bow. “So much like her… yet entirely different.”

Mordred’s confidence wavered as her [Instincts] screamed danger. Something’s wrong.

Glancing up, she saw the night sky light up with an unnatural brilliance. A constellation appeared, its stars shining vividly, followed by a streaking meteor tearing through the clouds.

The meteor blazed downward, its target clear—her.

The sound of the air splitting reached her ears. The blazing projectile was too real to be a mere illusion. It was a Noble Phantasm.

Abandoning her attack on Archer, Mordred redirected her blade skyward. Her Noble Phantasm, charged to A++-rank, became an improvised anti-air defense.

Her [Instincts] had been correct: survival came first. Only by staying alive could she face her father.

BOOM!

The collision rocked the heavens and the earth, the explosion’s shockwaves reverberating for miles. The resulting brightness rivaled daylight, illuminating the battlefield in harsh, unforgiving clarity.

Though the Magus Association often preached the importance of secrecy, this was beyond anything they could hope to conceal. To Mordred, the detonation resembled a miniature sun, suspended in the night sky.

When the smoke cleared, Mordred stood firm, her body unscathed thanks to the power of her cursed blade. She had spent only part of her Noble Phantasm’s energy, ensuring enough remained for her true target.

But as she turned her attention back to Archer, she realized he was gone.

The battlefield was empty, save for the remnants of arrows embedded in the ground.

He had vanished.

“Magic…” Mordred growled, the faint trace of mana in the air betraying Archer’s retreat. While she lacked sensitivity to magic in her life, her Servant body had honed her instincts, allowing her to track even subtle energy flows.

“Another mage? Dammit, you’re all so irritating.” She bared her teeth in frustration but ultimately accepted the situation. Her pursuit of Artoria would have to wait.

Archer has withdrawn, she reported to Kairi.

Same here. They left cleanly, didn’t even leave a trace, Kairi replied. I guess our fireworks made them decide to pull out entirely. No one wants the Clock Tower breathing down their necks.

Mages are such a pain.

Nothing we can do about it. If we kept fighting, the Magus Association would come after us too. Kairi sighed. They’re gone now—Assassin, Saber, and Archer. We can’t catch them. Let’s pull back.

Understood, Mordred said reluctantly.

As the battlefield fell into silence, Mordred clenched her fists, the emptiness around her almost suffocating. No sound, no mana traces—just a void.

The only word that could describe it was deathly stillness.

“Arthur… you won’t escape me.”

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T/N: so many avenues of interactions... Mordred and Enkidu...

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!