A premeditated fire had flushed out most of the Servants, leaving them to endlessly argue over who was behind it. But Wei Yang knew—the true arsonist remained at large, not even revealing their face.
A bunch of clueless fools.
The radiant mirror before her not only reflected the horrifying scene of the fire but also cast a faint outline of her own face.
Wei Yang was not particularly tall, draped in a robe of white with only a hint of gray. Her long, jet-black hair cascaded nearly to the floor, impossibly smooth, without a single split end—like a waterfall, yet purer than any that could exist in this world.
Her fair, flawless face bore the beauty of a celestial maiden. Her luminous eyes shone like the full moon in the dark of night, making the entire sky seem clearer, as though a saint had descended to the mortal realm.
Yet, that delicate face held no expression—a look that warned strangers to keep their distance. Her sharp, hawk-like gaze fixed upon the gleaming mirror, where her own hazy reflection lingered. But Wei Yang was not admiring her reflection. She was watching a farce.
“Those shameless magi!”
Her father, Wei Hua, smashed the wine cup in his hand onto the ground, sending liquor spilling across the floor. The pungent scent of alcohol filled the air, stinging the senses. Wei Yang frowned—she despised alcohol.
“To win the Holy Grail War, they would sacrifice innocent civilians? Such people are unworthy of competing. They all deserve to die!”
His clenched teeth barely held back the seething fury that threatened to spill forth like venom.
Wei Yang listened in silence. She knew her father was a man of immense pride, one who had dedicated his life to their family, longing to see this land return to their homeland.
Perhaps that was why he had come to participate in the Holy Grail War.
At the same time, he was a stubborn man. He had poured his heart and soul into this war, spending at least a decade on this frigid land.
Wei Yang had spent her early childhood in their homeland, but before she even turned eight, she had been brought to this foreign country. Over the years, she had only dull books to keep her company, living in an environment where she never truly belonged.
“The arsonist is likely one of the three founding families—the very ones who provided the land for the Holy Grail War,” Wei Yang spoke softly. She respected her father, but she held no affection for him. She didn’t know why. Perhaps it was because his aptitude for magecraft was too weak… or perhaps because hers was too strong. She wasn’t certain.
Aside from the founding families, no one understood the Holy Grail War better than they did. For years, everything in Wei Yang’s life had revolved around preparing for this war—cracking summoning incantations, altering mana supply, acquiring special relics.
It frustrated her. She didn’t understand why she had to waste her youth on this war. Was there truly something here worth pursuing? All she saw were incompetent mortals. Not a single magus worthy of facing her in battle.
“Yes, you’re absolutely right!”
Wei Hua’s temples had begun to gray—his age was catching up to him. But time had not tempered his temper. He was just as irascible as ever.
“This godforsaken place is filled with nothing but vermin, sullying the honor of true magi!”
Wei Yang couldn’t decipher her father’s feelings toward this land. Deep down, he looked down on this remote Far Eastern city, dismissing it as a mere backwater town. Yet, his desire to claim it was undeniable. This land… a place that once belonged to us.
He had initially believed that the Holy Grail War would be waged in secrecy, hidden in the shadows. But this fire seemed to have changed his outlook.
The Wei family was a prestigious noble lineage, with magecraft at its core, though their ties to the Clock Tower were not particularly deep. Her father always carried an air of superiority, holding lesser magi in contempt.
And now, with the recent atrocity—using civilians as bait to lure out other participants—his disdain had only deepened.
“You have no reason to be this angry,” Wei Yang remarked from behind him. She did not address him by name, nor did she call him “Father.”
She had never met him as a child, and when she finally did, it was only to be swept along with the tide, cast into this frozen northern land. Perhaps, in truth, she simply held herself above such things—after all, she felt nothing for him.
“Not be angry? How could I not be angry?!”
Wei Hua bellowed, his voice laced with fury.
“This land bears the name of the Blanche family! They are one of the local aristocratic lineages, yet they not only neglect their own territory but also have the audacity to commit such shameless acts! I have never seen a family so utterly brazen!”
His rage only grew, his face burning red like a man consumed by fire.
“They’ve even made contact with the Church’s Overseer. That means the Holy Church—those idle, self-righteous fools—have tacitly approved of the Blanche family’s actions. They are unworthy of being called human!”
“Look at this…”
Wei Hua slammed a stack of documents onto the table, the sound like a drumbeat of war.
“This is intelligence from the Church. Given to me—mark my words, given! Can you believe the audacity?!”
Rather than being pleased by such an offering, he was seething.
“The Overseer is blatantly shielding the Blanche family, shamelessly violating the rules. Those wretched rats, pretending to be the agents of God—they have no shame!”
Wei Yang carefully examined the documents from the Church, reading every word at a deliberate pace.
Her father drummed his fingers against the armrest of his chair, his eyes still locked onto the mirror.
Time passed swiftly.
By the time Wei Yang reached the last line, she understood why he was so furious.
The documents laid out exhaustive details about the Einzbern family—every aspect meticulously recorded, including their past Holy Grail War participations. The same was true for the Zolgen family—every piece of information painstakingly documented. Even their weakness to fire had been emphasized in bold red letters.
Two of the three founding families had been thoroughly exposed. But the Blanche family? Their information was laughably sparse—just a brief background note, and nothing more.
The bias was blatant—an outright disgrace coming from a supposed Overseer.
Reading between the lines, Wei Yang could easily tell—this intelligence had been crafted specifically for them.
“The Blanche family intends to use us as pawns,” Wei Hua remarked, turning to his daughter. “And they’re doing it in a way that openly sabotages their so-called allies.”
“They’ve abandoned all decorum in their desperation to win. Like beasts,” Wei Yang commented.
“Enough. There’s no need to waste any more anger on these scoundrels.”
Though he addressed Wei Yang, it felt more like he was speaking to himself.
In truth, Wei Yang had never been angry.
Perhaps her resolve had surpassed even her father’s.
A decade of preparation, a childhood shaped by relentless indoctrination—the Holy Grail War was the sole purpose of her existence. She had become a tool, advancing toward her objective with mechanical precision.
Ten years of dedication and effort—Wei Yang swore she would claim victory.
“You’ve already summoned your Servant, haven’t you?” she asked.
“Yes.”
Wei Hua nodded, picking up the sword that rested beside his chair. He handed it to her and said,
“Go. Take this sword and meet him.”
He was referring to their Servant—the Heroic Spirit he had meticulously prepared for years. Through a dual-class summoning, he had secured a Servant occupying both the Archer and Caster classes.
Not only that—there was also this sword…
“I understand.”
Wei Yang nodded, took the sword, and left.
The sword was nearly a meter long, yet it was not made of steel, but bronze. Its ancient blade bore no scabbard, featuring eight evenly structured, polished facets that gleamed with a smooth luster. The grind lines along its edge were refined, the patterns flawless and uninterrupted.
It had a history spanning at least two thousand years, yet to Wei Yang, it remained as pristine and razor-sharp as the day it was forged. There was no trace of time’s erosion upon it—it was as if the sword had just emerged from the forge.
The summoned Servant possessed a dual-class nature, Archer and Caster. Now, with the addition of this sword, Archer would attain the exceedingly rare status of a triple-class Servant.
Wei Yang did not yet know her Servant’s true name, but at the very least, her father’s years of effort had not been wasted—his preparations had some merit.
Her father had only told her that this sword came from an ancient ruin, once belonging to a figure of great prestige. He had withheld further details, wanting her to witness the Servant’s presence with her own eyes.
The mansion was vast, yet empty. As Wei Yang made her way toward her destination, the silence was palpable. In preparation for the Holy Grail War, they had dismissed nearly all the household servants, leaving only a few familiars to handle daily upkeep.
Moving forward along the corridor, Wei Yang ascended the staircase leading to the upper floor. Though a powerful bounded field separated her from her target, she could already feel an overwhelming pressure.
A faint glow began to radiate from the [Command Spells] on the back of her hand. The Servant had been summoned by her father, but the [Command Spells] had been placed upon her. However, the burden of maintaining the Servant’s mana supply did not fall upon Wei Yang—it was her father who bore that responsibility.
Her father was old now, unlikely to take the battlefield himself. To ensure the war could be fought effectively, he had taken the strain of mana consumption upon himself. At this moment, though Wei Yang possessed the [Command Spells], the actual contract had yet to be established.
She pushed open the heavy doors of the study.
A flickering firelight deep within the room caught her attention, confirming what she already knew—he was there.
Her steps grew heavier, her movements sluggish. The invisible weight pressing upon her felt suffocating, as if she were staring directly into the sun, unable to keep her eyes open.
This must be nerves, she thought, unwilling to admit she was being overwhelmed by the Servant’s sheer presence.
“Why did you not knock?!”
The instant the voice rang out, Wei Yang felt her heart seize in her chest.
For the first time in her life, she experienced fear.
It was an unfamiliar sensation. She had never feared anything before—not heaven, not earth—yet now, against all reason, fear had taken hold of her.
Her knees, as if stripped of their tendons, threatened to buckle beneath her. But she fought against it, refusing to bow.
Yet in the end, she failed.
Unwillingly, she bent at the waist.
Archer’s oppressive aura bore down on her like an unshakable force, suffocating her. Even so, she did not collapse completely—she managed to remain on one knee, half-kneeling instead of prostrating herself.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Archer was approaching. She could already hear his footsteps.
Uneasy, she glanced around the room. Outside the window, snowflakes drifted silently, and the city lights still burned bright. The bookshelves surrounding her were coated in dust, untouched—Archer, it seemed, had little interest in magecraft.
“I was in the middle of reading—what right do you have to interrupt? Do you realize your crime?!”
Archer’s voice was close now, his imposing shadow completely enveloping her.
His presence was suffocating, but Wei Yang forced herself to lift her head.
Perhaps he had allowed it—perhaps, for a moment, he had relented.
The first thing she saw was the black silk robes embroidered with soaring, majestic dark birds. A crown rested upon his head, and his gaze was filled with absolute authority.
Wei Yang had never seen a man so regal, so formidable.
In that instant, she was utterly captivated.
A rare blush crept onto her usually indifferent face—an unprecedented reaction for someone as cold as her.
What should I say? she wondered. Referring to myself as ‘I’ would be too discourteous, but using ‘this humble one’ feels unnatural.
After a brief pause, she raised the sword in both hands and declared,
“I, Wei Yang, present this sword to Your Majesty!”
Her voice was steady, ringing with strength and resolve. In that moment, she felt that all the years of effort had not been in vain.
“You are guilty, but your crime does not warrant death.”
Archer nodded slightly before continuing,
“Will you atone with merit?”
Without hesitation, he gave his decree:
“I shall allow it!”
Only now did Wei Yang have the presence of mind to take a closer look at Archer. The ancient emperor held a book in his hand.
The cover was an unfamiliar shade of pale ivory—not like any tome of magecraft she had ever seen. What kind of book could command His Majesty’s attention so completely, that he had immersed himself in it from the moment he was summoned?
Curiosity overtook her, and she shifted her gaze toward the book’s title.
The bold black lettering was clear as day—The Napoleonic Code.
Archer has a deep interest in law… Wei Yang committed the detail to memory.
“The laws of this nation are far too lenient,” Archer remarked. “Murder is not repaid with death—what justice is there in such laws?”
He took the sword from her hands and turned away.
At first, Wei Yang thought he had little interest in the Holy Grail War. But then, his next words shattered that assumption.
It turned out… His Majesty had already foreseen his victory.
“The path to eternity lies within my grasp. This world shall be reshaped according to my will.”
The sun had barely dipped below the horizon—it was still early morning. Archer glanced out the window, his brows knitting together in displeasure.
Blanche, though a cold northern city, had modernized into a bustling metropolis. Its noise and chaos seemed to irritate the emperor.
“Since midnight, it has been this way,” Archer muttered, his dissatisfaction evident. “Truly, a city of unruly peasants.”
The mansion was situated in a prime, lively district. Perhaps the ceaseless activity had disturbed Archer’s reading, prompting his irritation.
After speaking, Archer flipped through the pages of his law book once more, falling into thoughtful silence.
Wei Yang watched him quietly.
The longer she observed him, the more she was convinced—this was a man destined for greatness.
—
T/N: … t-t-triple class?
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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