This Is My Holy Grail War [79]

Their gazes locked, and Assassin felt the cutting wind generated by Lancer’s rapid charge.

She had two options: retreat and use her superior agility to keep her distance, or counterattack and take advantage of the fact that Lancer was now too close to dodge her magic blast.

Assassin chose to attack. She had no reason to retreat.

Her magic blast flared to life, surging with power as it struck Lancer head-on. But an invisible, translucent barrier blocked the attack—a shimmering shell of anti-magic power deflected the surge of mana entirely.

“I let you have that shot on purpose!” Lancer shouted, raising his crimson spear. “I’m a Lancer-class Servant, equipped with high-level [Magic Resistance]. Now, regret your decision—I’ll take your heart!”

As Lancer’s spear hurtled toward her with lethal precision, Assassin didn’t flinch. Instead, her lips curled into a slight smirk—a look of triumph. She had successfully baited him.

She raised her staff to meet his attack, the clash of their weapons sparking violently. The impact rang out like a metallic symphony.

“So, you’ve decided to engage me in close combat?” Assassin remarked with a sly smile, her voice dripping with confidence.

Though cloaked in Caster’s form, Assassin’s innate skill of [Mind’s Eye (Fake)] gave her a calm, almost unshakable demeanor.

“In that case, I accept!” she declared, answering her own question.

As Lancer’s stunned expression betrayed his surprise, Assassin finished chanting her final incantation, activating a reinforcement spell. Her physical attributes surged to new heights. Closing the grimoire, now unnecessary, she gripped her staff with renewed vigor.

A magus holding off a spear-wielding Lancer in close combat—no wonder he looked so shocked. But Assassin had no fear of close-quarters combat. Distance, in fact, worked against her. Unlike Caster, whose magical barrages could flood the battlefield, Assassin’s offensive capabilities were more akin to a pair of heavy mortars—potent but limited.

Now, it was time to teach this cocky spearman a lesson about underestimating an assassin.

From within her robes, Assassin drew a notched longsword. With her form shifting, her once tall and imposing figure shrank to a petite frame. She shed her borrowed [High-Speed Divine Words], along with her ability to cast magic, as her grimoire faded into irrelevance.

But in exchange, [Instinct] kicked in.

Lancer instinctively tried to retreat, but Assassin was already upon him. Her sword lashed out with deadly intent, her strikes relentless and precise. This was her first true test of the swordsmanship she had cultivated, and her blood burned with excitement.

Finally, a worthy opponent to feel my blade!

Her eyes gleamed with predatory focus, her strikes calculated to expose and exploit every gap in Lancer’s defense. Her blade became the scythe of a reaper, cutting through the icy air.

The cold wind chilled the battlefield, but the edge of her blade was colder still, sharp enough to send shivers even down the spine of a Heroic Spirit. Her sword moved toward Lancer’s chest, aiming directly for his spiritual core—his heart.

Clang!

Sparks erupted as their weapons clashed again. Lancer’s crimson spear expertly deflected Assassin’s blade, its length and speed belying the spear’s size. In his hands, the weapon moved with the agility of a dagger, countering her every move.

But Assassin wasn’t finished.

Though her initial strike was blocked, her sword darted forward again, faster and deadlier, as her superior agility gave her an edge in close quarters. The speed of her follow-ups left no room for Lancer to counter.

Her blade was a venomous serpent, striking at his head and chest in rapid succession. Anticipating his evasions, she adjusted her trajectory, much like she had practiced against the imagined swallow in her training. If one strike missed, another immediately followed.

Predicting every possible path he might take, Assassin’s relentless assault forced Lancer onto the back foot.

Lancer bent impossibly low to evade a strike aimed at his forehead, Assassin’s blade barely grazing his hair. He twisted his spear to counterattack, but her sword was already stabbing toward his chest again.

Her attacks came like phantoms, the movements so fluid they left illusory afterimages in their wake. Every strike aimed for his vulnerabilities, each one closer to landing a decisive blow.

The two exchanged more than three rounds in mere moments.

Assassin’s reinforcement magic proved even more potent than she’d anticipated, amplifying her strength, agility, and durability to overwhelming levels. She pressed the advantage mercilessly.

Yet Lancer was no ordinary opponent. His sheer tenacity kept him standing, deflecting and dodging even as her relentless assault pushed him to his limits. With an almost inhuman twist of his body, he avoided another fatal strike and prepared to retaliate.

But Assassin seemed to have predicted his move. Her sword rose in a swift upward arc, slashing in a crescent-shaped trajectory that would have split his skull had he not pulled back in time.

Seizing the opportunity, Lancer created space between them, his spear raised defensively.

But Assassin had already seen through his intent. It was time to shift the scales further in her favor.

[Mana Burst!]

Raw magical energy surged through Assassin, her entire body glowing with power. For a brief moment, she reached her peak—a state where no one in the Holy Grail War could match her speed or strength.

Propelled by a stream of mana, she surged forward like an unstoppable force. This time, her blade angled downward, aiming to sever Lancer’s neck.

Lancer met her charge with his spear, the weapons clashing with a force that cracked the earth beneath them. The sheer pressure sent shockwaves rippling through the air.

Their weapons locked, and the overwhelming power of Assassin’s strike caused Lancer’s spear to tremble violently. He could feel the crushing weight of her strength bearing down on him.

The once pristine stone pathways of the schoolyard were now shattered, gouged deep by the fierce clash of their battle.

With lightning speed, Assassin struck again—a seventh blow in their relentless exchange. This time, her blade aimed for his brow, leaving him no room to maneuver.

The sheer force of her strikes compressed the air, suffocating Lancer as death loomed ever closer. Yet, despite the imminent threat, his expression remained eerily calm. Assassin knew that this man—Cú Chulainn—had faced the brink of death countless times before, forging himself in the crucible of life-or-death battles.

In a desperate gambit, Lancer pivoted his spear, slamming its butt against her sword’s tip. A burst of fiery sparks erupted as he shifted the momentum, sweeping his spear downward in a wide arc to break her rhythm.

Unable to advance further, Assassin leaped gracefully into the air, her foot brushing the ground lightly like a dragonfly skimming the surface of water.

As she ascended, her sword flashed like a falling star, carving a shallow wound across Lancer’s abdomen. Blood sprayed into the air, its metallic tang filling the cold night.

The wound proved that Assassin’s swordsmanship had advanced significantly. In a mere eight strikes, she had achieved what once seemed impossible.

This time, she wasn’t the swallow dancing precariously on the edge of a blade—she was the blade itself, poised to claim her opponent’s life.

In the briefest of moments, the duel had spanned eight brutal exchanges. Their clashing weapons still lingered as echoes in the air, their afterimages shimmering like ghosts.

Finally, Lancer managed to create space, using his injury as a costly opportunity to reset the battle.

Only a legendary hero like him could have carved out a chance to survive while so thoroughly outmatched.

“Well, well,” Lancer said, his voice strained but still laced with humor. Blood dripped from his open wound, and his arms trembled from the repeated impacts of their clashes. “It’s you again—the dark one. I gotta say, I like this version of you a lot more!”

His grin widened as he recognized the notched longsword she wielded.

“Looks like neither of us has a reason to back down now,” he growled, veins bulging as adrenaline surged through him. His excitement was palpable. “Come on, let’s settle this! A fight to the death!”

Despite his injury, his eyes burned with feral intensity, his thirst for battle undiminished.

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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!