“Hmm?” The silver-haired girl leaning against Assassin’s back didn’t seem to notice her surroundings. Assassin adjusted her grip, but Illyasviel clung to her tightly, not moving an inch.
“What’s wrong?!” Assassin’s voice carried a note of concern, but there was no reply.
Could she have been hit by one of Gilgamesh’s Noble Phantasms? That’s impossible… Assassin frowned. Her confidence in her [Instinct] and [Mind’s Eye] made such an oversight unlikely, yet Illya’s silence unsettled her.
Carefully, Assassin lowered Illya from her back, treating her with the delicacy one might use with a fragile doll. Just as she laid her down, Illya finally spoke.
“Uh… can you put me down? I feel so dizzy…”
Assassin noticed Illya’s spinning, unfocused eyes and the way her head lolled. Though already on the ground, Illya’s complaints continued, her disoriented words confirming her condition.
Riding on Assassin’s back during high-speed evasive maneuvers was no different from being flung about in a hurricane. Even as a homunculus, Illya’s body simply couldn’t withstand such velocities. Her eyes darted around wildly, unable to focus, her sense of direction completely scrambled.
“Got it,” Assassin said, gently steadying Illya’s wobbling head in an attempt to help her recover.
“Ugh…” Illya groaned, slowly regaining her composure. The harrowing experience left her pale, and she vowed never to endure such torment again.
The ground seemed to spin beneath her feet, and the pressure from the whirlwind-like movements left her breathless. Every evasive maneuver Assassin performed had stolen her sense of equilibrium, leaving her utterly dazed.
“Illya,” Assassin began, “my Master proposes an alliance with you. What do you say?”
“Yes.” Illya nodded without hesitation. Faced with enemies as overwhelming as the two Archers, she saw the value in forming a temporary truce.
When their hands met in agreement, Illya sighed. “If I’d known it’d be like this, I would’ve had Berserker protect me instead.”
Her blunt words carried no malice, just the honest grievance of someone who had endured far too much. Despite her grumbling, Illya’s demeanor remained amicable—now that they were allies, there was no need for animosity.
“What’s the situation with Lancer in the castle?” Assassin asked.
“He came to discuss an alliance as well,” Illya explained. “If it weren’t for the strength of the two Archers far exceeding expectations, we wouldn’t have considered it.”
“Lancer proposed an alliance?” Assassin’s sharp instincts caught the scent of intrigue.
“He serves the priest of Fuyuki City, someone who holds no personal desire for the Grail. He acknowledges the Einzbern family’s long-held wish and agreed to join forces with us.” Illya continued, her tone matter-of-fact. “However, there have been… complications. The technical issues he mentioned are still unresolved.”
“Regarding the Holy Grail?” Assassin’s voice grew heavy. She suspected the root cause was the [All the World’s Evil] that tainted the vessel.
“We’re not sure. We’re working with what that priest, Kirei Kotomine, provided us.”
Illya knelt beside Berserker, her expression softening as she embraced her wounded Servant. The towering warrior, his body covered in fresh scars, remained silent as Illya’s silvery-blue mana emanated from her hands, healing him with utmost care.
“Bear with me, Berserker. It won’t hurt for much longer,” she whispered tenderly.
The bond between Master and Servant was palpable, their trust unwavering.
“The Holy Grail is filled with something black and vile,” Illya said, her voice tinged with unease. “But we lack critical information. That priest—he doesn’t exactly seem trustworthy.”
Assassin watched as Illya dismissed her concerns with a wave of her hand, assigning the task of investigating to her maids.
“Since we’re allies now, there’s no point in hiding these things. You’ll find out eventually anyway. I’ll have Sella provide the remaining information.”
“Thank you,” Assassin replied, her brow furrowed. In truth, she wished to keep such revelations from Rin, fearing how they might complicate matters.
“You don’t get along well with Rin, do you?” Illya’s question broke the silence.
“What makes you think that?”
“She treats you like a familiar,” Illya said with a grimace. “That’s an awful way to treat a Servant. I don’t like her. Servants should be treated as trusted friends.” She glanced up at Berserker, her voice firm with conviction. “No exceptions!”
The Einzbern family’s purpose was salvation: to complete the Holy Grail and use the [Third Magic] to redeem humanity.
Though the [Third Magic] had already been replicated in part, it was incomplete, necessitating repeated Holy Grail Wars to refine the process.
Yet the family’s endless efforts had yielded no final victory.
Assassin wondered how they would react upon learning the Grail was irreparably tainted. Would they cling to their dreams, or would despair consume them? For now, they seemed locked in a state of skepticism.
“Let’s regroup with the others,” Assassin said as Berserker rose, fully healed. “This battle isn’t over yet.”
There was no longer any need for stealth. Walking ahead with purpose, Assassin took the lead, guiding her new allies toward Rin and the others. The shattered gates of the castle stood as a grim reminder of the chaos that had unfolded, but Assassin pressed on.
Through the dense forest surrounding the castle, the trail of destruction led them straight to the battlefield.
When they arrived, a scene of carnage greeted them. Flames licked the trees, smoke clouded the air, and at the center of it all lay Kirei Kotomine, slumped against a tree, his body broken and bleeding.
His black priest’s robes were drenched in crimson, half his body mangled beyond recognition. One arm, stripped bare, still bore the faint traces of his Command Seals, though they were now burned away, leaving only a faint red mark mingled with his blood.
“Where is Lancer?” Assassin asked, scanning the area.
“Dead,” Rin said coldly, her voice laced with quiet grief. “Archer killed him.”
“Assassin,” Rin said softly, her tone devoid of hostility. “Let’s hold a funeral for him.”
The suggestion startled Assassin, but she didn’t question it. Still, Rin spoke as if reading her thoughts.
“You’re wondering why, aren’t you?”
“I am,” Assassin admitted. “Kirei was the one who killed your father, wasn’t he?”
“Yes,” Rin said, her expression distant. “Ever since I learned that, I’ve been trying to understand why. Kirei was a saint, utterly detached from the world. If he did kill my father, it was likely because he believed it was necessary—for the greater good, for the people of Fuyuki. That’s who he was. Ruthless, but principled.”
Rin bit her lip, her voice faltering as she added, “He was my teacher, my mentor. I know him too well.”
She avoided mentioning Tokiomi Tohsaka’s betrayal, perhaps acknowledging her father’s sins and the role they played in Kirei’s actions. Whatever compelled a saint to such extremes must have been unspeakable.
Kirei’s mangled body bore wounds unlike any from a blade. They looked more like the work of a monstrous claw, as though he’d faced a beast rather than a Servant.
“Lord… cleanse my sins… Saint, grant mercy to the suffering…” Kirei’s voice was faint, his prayers slipping from bloodied lips as he slumped against the tree.
Even as life drained from him, he traced a trembling cross over his chest with a hand slick with his own blood. He murmured of revelations, of an apocalypse, his eyes glazed with fading light.
“Kirei…” Rin whispered, her voice trembling as the man who had shaped her life teetered on the edge of death.
Assassin glanced at Rin, then at the dying priest. She knew there was a way to save him—if she removed [Avalon] from her body. But doing so would accelerate her own collapse.
“You summoned Assassin…” Kirei muttered, his voice slipping into delirium. His gaze drifted to the two Artorias standing before him. “The hilt… a perfect catalyst…”
Rin, utterly confused by Kirei’s cryptic words, threw her hands up in frustration.
“This entire Holy Grail War is completely insane!”
—
T/N: LMAO LANCER DIED OFFSCREEN
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!
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