This Is My Holy Grail War [11]

Kiritsugu Emiya steadied his emotions and cast aside all distracting thoughts. His finger lightly touched the trigger, waiting for Maiya to fire first before pulling it himself.

As he patiently waited, Rider’s loud taunts rang out, but Kiritsugu ignored them entirely. He was an assassin, devoid of emotion. No external factor could stop him.

“Those who lurk in the shadows, open your eyes wide and witness this!” Rider shouted, pointing at the destroyed books in the library. “This is a treasure trove of humanity’s accumulated wisdom—a masterpiece forged through centuries of relentless pursuit by scholars!”

Rider’s voice echoed into the night, filled with anger and disdain.

“And yet, you’ve destroyed all this knowledge… You, who are part of legend, have the audacity to forsake your honor and commit such shameless acts!” Though furious, Rider’s ire was directed less at the destruction itself and more at the Servants competing in the Holy Grail War.

Indeed, he yearned to recruit these participants, inviting them to revel in the conquest of the world. After all, Servants summoned by the Grail were Heroic Spirits—heroes whose souls had become legend.

“Just yesterday, I witnessed a battle between knights,” Rider exclaimed with righteous indignation. “They were true heroes! I once believed all Heroic Spirits to be famed champions of history, but now I see… this Holy Grail War has its share of despicable scoundrels!”

Rider had been moved the previous night. What had he seen?

Two knights filled with light and humility.

One was Saber, who willingly sacrificed her advantage in direct combat to protect her Master, allowing Assassin to leave the battlefield.

The other was Assassin, who, despite being an assassin, did not wield her poisoned blade from the shadows. Instead, she boldly challenged all the other Servants like a knight.

She was an Assassin, yet she had done what no other Servant dared. Rider admired her courage deeply, and her humility in receiving Saber’s praise only amplified his respect. To him, she was the perfect subordinate, and in that fleeting moment, his fondness for Assassin had reached its peak.

Rider longed to invite both Saber and Assassin into his army to aid in his conquest of the world. Had Waver not clung to his waist, sobbing uncontrollably, Rider might have revealed himself right then and there.

But today, he faced an attack so vile that it shattered his illusion of sanctity among Servants.

A cunning, ruthless scoundrel had set a trap here, clearly targeting his Master, Waver.

“You who lurk in the shadows, do you not feel any shame?”

Still, there was no response. Rider let out a frustrated sigh, climbed back onto his chariot, and threw one final remark over his shoulder: “You have sullied the name of Heroic Spirits!”

“A treasure trove? Worth less than those women!” Archer’s voice cut through the night, accompanied by a flash of gold as he appeared atop a battered streetlamp, gleaming with arrogance.

In the eerie stillness, he was the only Servant who reacted to Rider’s taunts.

“A pile of rotting junk built into a pathetic excuse for a tower, and you dare call it a treasure trove?” Archer’s words dripped with venom. “What an absurd joke!”

“I have read the works housed in this library,” Rider retorted, “classics compiled over centuries. Why shouldn’t it be called a treasure trove?”

“Knowing it contains centuries of knowledge, yet failing to cherish it properly,” Archer scoffed, his face darkening in anger at Rider’s words.

“A flimsy structure so easily destroyed… and you dare call it a treasure trove? A stray mongrel like you dares to claim the title of king!” Archer sneered, his tone laced with scorn.

“You may be right,” Rider said after a brief pause. “Was it you, then, who launched the ambush against me?”

“Ambush? You dare accuse this king of such cowardice?” Archer’s fury flared at Rider’s insinuation. Lifting his head proudly, he laughed coldly. “A mongrel like you, bold enough to claim kingship, dares question me? Utterly disgraceful!” He spat the final word with venom.

Behind Archer, golden portals materialized, and countless weapons emerged. They gleamed with an otherworldly brilliance, trembling as if brimming with barely-contained energy.

The air grew deathly still. Though the display left Rider astonished, it failed to instill fear. His hawk-like eyes locked onto Archer without wavering. Around them, faint golden dust swirled in the air, reminiscent of a desert storm.

“Bang! Bang!” Two gunshots shattered the tense silence just as both Servants prepared to reveal their trump cards.

Even the emergence of two Servants wasn’t enough to dissuade Kiritsugu. Without issuing Maiya any commands to stop, the two fired in quick succession.

The first shot, aimed by Maiya, targeted the interior of Rider’s chariot, heading directly for Waver’s head.

A direct hit would have meant certain death. Yet the bullet was deflected by a protective barrier around the chariot, sparing Waver’s life.

Unbeknownst to him, Waver had narrowly escaped death once again.

The second shot, fired by Kiritsugu, was just as precise.

Unlike Waver, however, Assassin intercepted the bullet with her sword, slicing it cleanly in half.

“Maiya, report the situation,” Kiritsugu demanded.

“Failed,” Maiya replied curtly. “Rider’s chariot has a protective barrier. Regular bullets won’t penetrate.”

“Understood.” Though the attempt failed, Kiritsugu had at least uncovered the secret of Rider’s chariot.

Next time, I’ll need to attack without the chariot in play. Kiritsugu lit a cigarette and retreated without hesitation.

“I’m retreating now. Assassin doesn’t seem intent on pursuing me.” Maiya, pressed for time, sent this brief update to Kiritsugu before cutting communication and slipping into the sewers.

Maiya was shaken; Kiritsugu’s shot had barely delayed Assassin for even a second.

While Kiritsugu’s plan failed to bear fruit, it had forced Assassin to reveal herself.

At that moment, Rider’s gaze shifted to Assassin, his attention drawn by her appearance. Archer, too, turned his fiery glare toward her, his fury transferring seamlessly.

“So, a little rat reveals itself…” Archer growled.

With a resounding thud, Archer crushed the streetlamp underfoot. “To dare gaze down upon this king from the shadows—who gave you the right to lower your eyes on me?” He sneered haughtily.

“Offer your broken corpse as penance!” Archer refused even to lift his head, his disdain evident. The weapons in his treasury tilted upward, aimed squarely at Assassin…

—

T/N: gilgamesh…

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!