This Is My Holy Grail War [98]

Golden light gleamed as Gilgamesh’s weapons rained down, tearing into Berserker’s powerful body. His pained roars echoed through the hall as crimson blood splattered in all directions.

Muscles strained, veins bulged, and Berserker’s eyes glowed an unrelenting blood-red.

A golden spear pierced his shoulder, a steel blade punctured his heart, and a silver halberd sliced through his spine.

Fragments of white bone jutted grotesquely from Berserker’s back, his blood staining the floor in violent crimson streaks. The overwhelming stench of blood filled the air, mingling with the grisly sight of exposed bone and scattered flesh, enough to churn the stomach of even the most hardened observer.

“RAAAHHH!” Berserker bellowed in rage, swinging his stone axe without care for his injuries. He resembled a wrathful deity, a maddened avatar of destruction. In his vision, only Gilgamesh’s golden figure remained.

With a thunderous charge, Berserker surged forward, the ground beneath his feet shattering into fragments with every step.

Shards of stone flew in all directions as Berserker hurtled toward the golden barrier of Gilgamesh’s [Gate of Babylon]. Behind its shimmering portals, countless Noble Phantasms emerged, and Gilgamesh’s lips curved upward in a faint smirk.

The storm of treasures struck Berserker like a relentless downpour, riddling his body with countless weapons. His form now resembled a grotesque pincushion, golden spears and blades protruding from every inch of his darkened flesh.

Yet Berserker pressed on. Despite his grievous injuries, he closed the distance to Gilgamesh. Under Illya’s desperate gaze, he raised his axe-sword high, deflecting a golden blade aimed for his forehead. Gilgamesh was just within reach.

But in a moment of hesitation, Berserker fell back.

The chance he had sacrificed a life to earn was abandoned, as Berserker turned to shield Illya from the oncoming volley of treasures.

Gilgamesh observed the scene with disdain, his expression twisted with contempt.

“Enough of this babysitting, Heracles,” Gilgamesh sneered. “A demigod like myself, reduced to a wild beast devoid of reason. Are you even human anymore? What a revolting mongrel you are.”

Brushing the dust from his clothing, he clicked his tongue in irritation. “Your filthy appearance disgusts me, truly.”

With a wave of his hand, Gilgamesh unleashed another barrage of Noble Phantasms.

Berserker, though swift and powerful, was forced into an impossible position. He could not protect his Master and attack simultaneously.

Time and again, when a weapon could not be deflected by his axe, Berserker would intercept it with his own body, enduring every strike to keep Illya safe.

“Berserker is the strongest!” Illya cried out, her Command Seals glowing with fiery brilliance. Scarlet light enveloped her as searing pain coursed through her body. Gritting her teeth, she poured every ounce of mana she had into Berserker, bolstering his strength and agility even further.

Renewed by his Master’s unwavering belief, Berserker let out another earth-shattering roar.

“Fascinating, fascinating,” Gilgamesh mused, his tone filled with mockery. “To think you, a mongrel, could stoke even a flicker of my interest. What a rare occurrence indeed.”

The portals of [Gate of Babylon] shifted, encircling both Berserker and Illya.

Master, how much longer until you arrive? The situation here is dire, Assassin transmitted urgently.

Her words were met with troubling news: Lancer and the other Archer are here as well!

Assassin stiffened at Rin’s reply. Saber had been drawn into another battle, caught up against Archer and Lancer. There would be no reinforcements coming—she was on her own.

Grinding her teeth, Assassin steeled herself. If there’s no help, I’ll handle this alone.

Emerging from the shadows, she crept closer to Gilgamesh. Her sword cut through the air in a silent arc, a flash of silver light slicing toward her target.

“You…!”

In the blink of an eye, Assassin appeared, her form small and unassuming. Golden hair framed emerald-green eyes that shone with determination. Beneath her elegant exterior, however, lay a predator’s fangs.

Assassin’s killing intent radiated in waves as she emerged from the darkness in Artoria’s form.

Her ambush was perfectly timed, and she didn’t hesitate for even a second. The blade in her hands was unyielding, though not as sharp as the legendary weapons wielded by other Servants.

Blood spattered through the air as her strike found its mark. The black fabric of Gilgamesh’s coat was shredded, his torso nearly cleaved in two.

The sickening sound of steel tearing through flesh echoed through the hall. For the first time, the scent of blood other than Berserker’s filled the room—a sharp, acrid smell that carried an almost predatory edge.

But Assassin wasn’t finished. She was no true assassin in the traditional sense; her tactics weren’t those of a hit-and-run fighter. She was a warrior, forged in blood-soaked battlefields, and in her mind, the only path forward was to attack relentlessly.

Using the momentum of her first strike, Assassin spun her body mid-air, preparing to deliver a follow-up slash. Her blade arced downward toward Gilgamesh.

At that moment, a golden chain shot out from the [Gate of Babylon], striking her mid-swing and sending her flying.

The ancient weapon, [Enkidu], was Gilgamesh’s first choice in moments of desperation.

“Damn you!” Gilgamesh roared, his voice filled with rage. The gash on his side burned with crimson intensity, his face contorted in fury. “You dare to wound me, mongrel?!”

Redirecting the focus of his treasures, he aimed every Noble Phantasm at Assassin.

Golden light filled the hall, the sheer number of weapons surpassing anything he had unleashed before.

The resulting explosion was deafening. Dust and debris filled the air as the powerful blasts rocked the castle to its foundations, veiling the battlefield in a thick haze.

As the dust began to settle, the room slowly came into focus. Standing amidst the destruction, completely unharmed, was Assassin. She remained unscathed, her figure resolute atop the cratered ground.

“How…?” Illya’s voice trembled with disbelief. “Saber cannot hide herself. Are you… Assassin?”

“In the name of my Master, I’m here to assist you. For now, we’re allies,” Assassin answered, her gaze fixed on Gilgamesh.

“Rin’s Servant seems competent,” Illya murmured, then spoke more firmly. “Servants are bound to obey their Masters, correct?”

“What are you implying?”

“Protect me, Assassin!” Illya ordered sharply, her voice resolute. Her crimson eyes burned with determination. “Leave the offense to Berserker—my Servant is the strongest in the world!”

“Understood,” Assassin replied without hesitation.

Assassin lifted Illyasviel with ease, her slight frame deceptively powerful. Despite their similar petite statures, Illya was no burden at all, as Assassin’s immense strength allowed her to carry her effortlessly.

“Hold on tight,” Assassin said as she adjusted Illya, maneuvering her like a doll to rest securely on her back. “Leave the rest to me.”

Illya remained silent, but Assassin took her lack of protest as consent.

Rather than defending against Gilgamesh’s onslaught with brute force, as Berserker did, Assassin opted for agility and precision. Her plan was to avoid the torrent of Noble Phantasms while simultaneously getting Illya to safety, then coordinating an attack alongside Berserker.

To face Gilgamesh with only defense would be to invite failure. Even in death, Assassin resolved to die advancing.

As the thick dust from the last explosion began to settle into a thin haze, another wave of golden weapons hurtled through the air, fired relentlessly from the [Gate of Babylon].

Assassin moved with unyielding determination, pressing forward alongside Berserker toward Gilgamesh.

Blades and spears sliced past her, each a hair’s breadth from contact. Even carrying Illya, Assassin maintained her agility. Her Instinct and honed battle sense worked in tandem, allowing her to calculate the safest path forward.

The castle trembled with every clash, the ground beneath them fracturing and collapsing. By the time this battle concluded, the Einzbern family’s stronghold would be left in ruins.

“So it’s you, Assassin,” Gilgamesh said as they drew closer, laughter shaking his frame. He clutched his forehead, recovering from his earlier wounds. To Assassin’s surprise, his voice wasn’t filled with anger but twisted amusement.

He had recognized her identity. And while his tone was jubilant, his actions were anything but lenient—his next volley of Noble Phantasms surged forth with even greater intensity.

Boom!

A storm of golden weapons tore through the air. Time seemed to slow for Assassin, her heightened agility allowing her to perceive the barrage in vivid detail.

But there were simply too many. The sheer volume of weapons compressed her available space, limiting her options. Worse, she had to ensure Illya’s safety—losing her would render Berserker powerless, and Assassin couldn’t face Gilgamesh alone.

Behind her, Berserker collapsed under the unrelenting assault, his body riddled with wounds. But the crimson glow in his eyes remained fierce. It wasn’t over yet; this ancient demigod would rise again.

Meanwhile, Assassin, smaller and more nimble, broke through the firestorm first.

“I see,” Gilgamesh mused with a sardonic grin. “Do you remember the wager I made with the King of Conquerors last time? I won. That makes you mine now.”

“Apologies,” Assassin replied, her tone regretful yet firm. “I already have a Master.”

Though her words were polite, the rejection caused a vein to throb in Gilgamesh’s temple. The constraints of the Holy Grail War forced them into opposition, and the tension was visibly driving him to the brink. His crimson eyes burned with rage, veins bulging as he clenched his fists.

With a sharp motion, Gilgamesh summoned the [Chains of Heaven] from the [Gate of Babylon], swinging them like a whip to ensnare Assassin.

The chains moved with preternatural precision, their divine nature preventing even Assassin’s skill from evading them. In an instant, she was bound.

Smirking, Gilgamesh stepped forward, drawing a golden blade from his treasury. It was rare to see him engage in close combat, and even Assassin was taken aback. For a moment, it felt almost like an honor to be on the receiving end of such a rare sight.

With one hand gripping the chain and the other wielding his sword, Gilgamesh brought the weapon down with all his might.

Unable to move freely, Assassin twisted her body just enough to avoid a fatal strike. The blade grazed her temple, slicing into her skin. Warm blood trickled down her face, staining her golden hair.

With a guttural cry, she channeled all her strength into breaking free.

Clang!

The [Chains of Heaven] shattered. Devoid of divinity in her current form, Assassin wasn’t as strongly restrained, and her A-ranked strength allowed her to overpower them. She swung her sword upward, forcing Gilgamesh to retreat.

But any chance to press the advantage was cut short. Her [Instinct] warned her of another barrage of Noble Phantasms, and she was forced to withdraw.

“Why are you siding with the pale Archer?” Assassin demanded as she dodged the oncoming storm. It was the question that had plagued her most, for their alliance rendered any hope of victory almost impossible.

“Who I align with is none of your concern, mongrel.”

“Archer is the embodiment of apocalypse. Her goal is to destroy the world, to annihilate humanity, isn’t it?” Assassin’s voice carried both frustration and sadness.

“You think humanity will be destroyed?” Gilgamesh’s tone shifted, a hint of irritation seeping in.

“No,” Assassin admitted after a pause.

“The Holy Grail is far from the glorious ideal you believe it to be,” Gilgamesh said coldly, tossing aside his bloodied sword. “Once you see it for yourself, you’ll understand how laughable your ambitions truly are.”

As Berserker stirred, his body beginning its resurrection, Gilgamesh turned his back on the battlefield. Without sparing a glance, he began to walk away.

“When the Grail descends, I’ll be watching,” he said with a final, sardonic grin. “I want to see the look on your face.”

Gilgamesh left, wounded but victorious in spirit. Assassin had expected him to unleash his full power, but his departure defied her expectations.

Blood dripped from Assassin’s temple, her left eye rendered useless by the steady flow.

Turning to Illya, still perched on her back, she asked, “My Master proposes an alliance to face the two Archers. What do you say?”

—

T/N: she’s come so far

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!