This Is My Holy Grail War [119]

Saber pushed open the restaurant door, her golden hair glimmering brilliantly in the light of the setting sun. Nearly everyone inside couldn’t help but glance at her, their expressions tinged with admiration.

Even so, their gazes were polite, not lingering excessively on her. The people here were modest, their demeanor simple and reserved.

The sky was steadily darkening, and the hues of the sunset were reflected in Saber’s emerald-green eyes. Her gaze brimmed with anticipation—it was dinner time, after all.

Her Master had promised to treat her to a feast tonight as a gesture of goodwill following the day’s battle. Having regained a physical body, she wasn’t about to turn down the offer.

"Hey, Mordred, tonight’s—" her Master, Kairi Sisigou, was already waiting at the table when she arrived. Under the restaurant’s eaves, he greeted her—not with pleasantries, but with talk of plans.

Mordred glanced at her Master, mildly annoyed at his lack of tact. Ugh, how unsophisticated, she thought with irritation.

But she pushed the matter aside for now. What mattered most to Mordred at the moment was the food in front of her. Hunger, after all, was the enemy. A knight needed to be well-fed to fight effectively.

"Got it, Master. Another fight, right?!" Mordred laughed heartily, her excitement palpable. "This time, though, we’ll be facing an enemy Servant, not those dumb golem-like familiars. Now that’s something to look forward to!" She smacked her fists together, practically itching for battle. "Once we’re done eating, let’s go smash them to bits!"

"Yeah, yeah. If we keep eating like this without getting into some action, we’ll blow through our budget," Sisigou joked. "Let’s hope the enemy makes things interesting tonight; otherwise, I might just go bankrupt."

Tonight, Mordred’s team had a clear objective: to root out the murderer hiding in this small town. All the intelligence came from her Master, a gruff yet diligent necromancer who, despite his sinister aura, had proven to be surprisingly kind-hearted.

Mordred had developed a good rapport with him, enough to challenge her preconceived notion of mages as conniving and deceitful. Still, Sisigou was far from normal—an occultist who thrived in darkness and even had nightmares about venturing into bright and cheerful settings. Mages truly are strange creatures, she mused.

"Good, good! I’ve been bored out of my mind. If we don’t stir things up tonight, I’ll go insane!" Mordred declared as she stuffed a piece of bread into her mouth. Ever since Sisigou had summoned her, she’d been languishing in monotony.

The medieval charm of this town, with its preserved streets and quaint architecture, was a novelty to modern visitors. But to Mordred, who had lived and died in an era of similarly drab towns, it was tiresome.

She had hoped to marvel at towering skyscrapers and exotic structures in this era. Yet not only had her wishes gone unfulfilled, but she hadn’t even found a single amusement park. With nothing to do but eat, Mordred was deeply dissatisfied.

When their meals arrived, conversation between the Red Saber team paused. Once finished, they set out toward the residential district.

"Our target is likely a third party," Sisigou said, cocking his gun and sliding the safety off. "The Yggdmillennia family wouldn’t allow murders on their own territory, and our allies have no reason to harm civilians or other mages."

"Whoever it is, we’ll just deal with them," Mordred replied, her tone brimming with excitement rather than tension.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the town plunged into darkness. Thanks to the news of a serial killer, the streets were eerily empty after nightfall.

Mordred and Sisigou walked openly down the main road, the only travelers moving freely. Their intent was clear—they were bait, hoping to lure out the hidden killer.

But as Mordred patrolled the streets, she sensed the presence of another Servant—one from the Yggdmillennia family. The unmistakable energy signature roamed the town, seemingly patrolling the area as if guarding its inhabitants.

The Servant made no effort to conceal their presence or engage in any suspicious activity. It was as if they were performing a knightly duty. The scene struck a chord with Mordred, reminding her of the times she had patrolled to protect civilians during wartime.

"Master, do you feel it?" Mordred asked.

"Yeah, it’s another Servant. Looks like they’re from the Black Faction," Sisigou replied. "Judging by their movements, they’re likely searching for the same killer we are."

"So, what’s the plan? Do we keep waiting for the killer to show up, or should we go mess with the Black Servant?" Mordred asked eagerly.

"I’ll leave that to you," Sisigou said nonchalantly. "Either way works for me."

"They’re the enemy, so we smash them, of course!"

In an instant, Mordred released her magical energy, her body clad in a solid suit of armor. Her hidden helmet materialized, fully covering her face and exposing her presence to the other Servant.

Drawn together like opposing magnets, Mordred and the Black Servant eventually met in a narrow, cluttered alley.

By now, the night had fully descended. The alley was shrouded in darkness, its depths impenetrable to the eyes of ordinary people. But Mordred’s sharp vision easily pierced the gloom, allowing her to see her opponent clearly.

And what she saw left her frozen in place.

Arthur?! Her pupils dilated as disbelief flooded her mind.

It was the face of the undefeated King of Knights, a visage burned into her memory. She could never mistake it.

The familiar, stoic expression devoid of desire, the regal poise—all of it was unmistakable. But most damning of all was the sword the figure held.

Even though the blade was sheathed, Mordred recognized the scabbard. Anyone who had ever served in the Knights of the Round Table—or even any Briton who had seen the King—would recognize it.

[Avalon].

The scabbard that had always accompanied the King.

Mordred’s once-casual demeanor shattered. Her veins throbbed with rage, her composure as a knight forgotten.

It’s her. It’s her! The thought echoed relentlessly in her mind as she sought to confirm the Servant’s identity.

"You are…?"

The voice reached Mordred’s ears—strong, proud, and unmistakably Arthur’s. It was the spark that ignited the bonfire of her anger, tearing through her fragile restraint.

"Arthur!" she roared, her face contorted in fury.

Normally, Mordred would announce her class and engage her opponent in an honorable duel. But now, her heart was consumed by the presence of King Arthur. Her silver greatsword flared with a crimson, blinding light.

She cared for only one thing: to demand an answer. What made me unfit to be king? Why didn’t you acknowledge me as your child?

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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!