This Is My Holy Grail War [76]

In the modestly sized room, a gentle laugh echoed softly. Caster’s voice drifted into Assassin’s ears, warm and encouraging, like a teacher eager to see their student reap the lifelong benefits of knowledge.

Though the quiet of the workshop offered a sense of shelter and calm, Assassin couldn’t help but glance out at the pitch-black night beyond the window, her unease flickering in her emerald eyes.

Time was too short. The grim reality of the Holy Grail War pressed upon her mind like a shadow. She knew she needed to calm herself to study properly, but the restless pounding of her heart was impossible to suppress.

All the knowledge Assassin poured over was tied directly to survival. Ignoring the foundational lessons, she dove headlong into the depths of the book’s more advanced sections.

She cast aside the chants for basic spells, bypassed the principles of elementary magecraft, and instead focused on three things: combat enhancement, healing magic, and anti-magecraft techniques. Her desperation to improve, to secure even the smallest edge for survival, was palpable.

The moonlight couldn’t penetrate the room, nor could it dispel the growing weight of dread within Assassin. Not that she needed light to read—her body, a construct of mana rather than flesh, eliminated such mortal concerns. Her vision was unaffected by darkness, and her existence required neither rest nor reprieve.

"Don’t you think it’s a bit too dark in here?"

Caster’s voice broke the silence as she conjured a flickering flame with a flick of her hand. Warm light flooded the room in an instant, illuminating every corner.

The text on the grimoire became clearer under the magical glow. The black leather-bound book, faintly luminous in the firelight, emitted an eerie aura. Even the sigils inscribed upon its pages seemed to shimmer faintly.

"You should start with the basics," Caster chided gently, placing her hand firmly on the book and pointing out a section.

"You haven’t even uttered your first spell yet. Skipping the introductory chapters is foolish. How do you expect to grasp what lies ahead?" She seemed well-versed in the book’s contents, guiding Assassin effortlessly.

One step at a time. Bite-sized learning builds a solid foundation. Assassin understood the wisdom behind these words. Yet sometimes, life demanded a sprint instead of a steady walk.

Caster’s tone grew sharp, tinged with irritation. "Without a firm grasp of the fundamentals, how do you plan to comprehend the advanced material? Magecraft is a refined art, not something crude to be rushed through." She gestured to the violet flames flickering in her hand.

"Take this, for example. It’s a simple formula, but without mastering the basics, you wouldn’t even understand how it works. Once you’ve built that foundation, it’s practically effortless."

"I can manage," Assassin said, adjusting her posture. Her golden hair shimmered faintly as her entire form began to shift.

The transformation was slow but deliberate. Purple mana coalesced around her, forming a mist that enveloped her figure. Soon, her petite, golden-haired Saber-like frame was replaced by one draped in a thick, mage-like robe.

"I can skip the basics," Assassin stated firmly. Her voice had changed—no longer the soft tone of a girl but the sultry and confident timbre of a mature woman.

[Acquired A-Rank Skill: High-Speed Divine Words.]

[Acquired A-Rank Skill: Teachings of Circe.]

The announcement reverberated in Assassin’s mind. At that moment, she had crossed the barrier preventing her from performing magecraft. The knowledge she had bypassed no longer mattered.

She parted her now unfamiliar purple lips and began to chant rapidly, her azure hair swaying beneath her dark hood.

Long, pointed ears peeked out from the tight confines of the hood, creating a slight discomfort. It wasn’t a form she was used to, and the narrow space around her ears felt awkward and restricting.

Her lips moved quickly, uttering incantations with practiced fluency. Divine Words spilled effortlessly from her mouth, breaking through barriers that took other mages a lifetime to overcome. The impossible feat of high-speed chanting had been reduced to nothing more than a glance at the text.

Under her command, mana gathered, coalescing into a small, intense flame in her palm.

"I can do more than mimic appearances," Assassin said quietly. The heat from the flame was tangible, powerful enough to be a weapon. "I can borrow others’ abilities. But… I can only transform into one person at a time."

"You copied even my [Divine Words]?" Caster exclaimed, equal parts impressed and curious. "Just like you stole Rider’s [Mystic Eyes], didn’t you?"

Assassin nodded, choosing not to hide her abilities.

"Oh my, I was only teasing," Caster admitted with a wry smile. "I wanted to see you flounder, struggling with questions far beyond your grasp. But here you are, surprising me yet again."

Caster’s tone shifted, taking on a hint of mischief. "But if you’re borrowing Rider’s [Mystic Eyes], you can’t chant spells, can you? You can only mimic one person at a time—be it for battle or magecraft."

"I’ll find time to study properly… if I get the chance," Assassin murmured. She knew that mastering high-speed chanting without relying on transformations would make her unstoppable in future battles.

Assassin sat down, adjusting to her new form. The low table where she had been reading earlier now felt even shorter. She reached for the neglected bamboo flask, finding it already half-empty.

Removing her hood and letting her long hair fall free, Assassin took a small sip of the sake. She returned her focus to the spellbook, determined to decipher its mysteries.

However, as her eyes skimmed the first few lines, a strange heaviness settled over her. It felt as if an immense weight had been placed on her body, pressing down relentlessly. Her head swam with dizziness.

This wasn’t the effect of the drink—neither the finest wine stolen by the King of Conquerors nor the divine brews gifted by the King of Heroes had ever left her feeling like this. Even Sasaki Kojirou’s simple sake had no such effect.

Maybe I’m just exhausted from reading, she thought hazily.

Before she could sort through her muddled thoughts, sleep overtook her, pulling her into a deep, dreamless slumber.

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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!