This Is My Holy Grail War [100]

Assassin stood beside the gravestone, using her blood-stained blade to carve an epitaph into the rough stone.

A faint aura of magic coated the sword, ensuring its edge remained unharmed as she delicately etched the words: “The Saint Without a Heart.”

The burial site lay beneath the lush canopy of a vibrant forest, where Kirei Kotomine had been interred. Beneath the serene shade of the swaying trees, his life, marked by tireless devotion to humanity, had reached its end.

Kirei had walked in darkness his entire life, sacrificing everything for the light of humanity. Even at the brink of death, he had muttered prayers for Fuyuki City’s safety, his final thoughts dedicated to the people he had served.

From his birth to his last breath, Kirei had never known joy. His life was given to God, his youth offered to humanity. Countless lives were saved by his actions, yet when he passed, only six people attended his funeral.

The scene was bleak. There was no officiant, no solemn prayers, and not even a proper coffin. The burial was hastily done, the gravestone improvised from a boulder that Berserker had pulled from the earth and crudely shaped.

There was no name on the stone, just the impromptu inscription Assassin had made, a silent marker for those who might someday stumble upon the grave. Saber herself laid Kirei’s body to rest, shoveling the final handful of dirt over the saint’s remains.

Among the three Masters present, only Shirou Emiya seemed to mourn with genuine sincerity. For him, grieving even a stranger came naturally—it was part of his kind-hearted nature.

As the forest whispered with the rustling of leaves, the wind seemed to bid Kirei Kotomine farewell.

With the epitaph complete, Assassin and Saber stepped back, their task done. Assassin turned toward the gathered group, voicing a question that had lingered in her mind.

“You all know why Archer came here, don’t you?” Her gaze fell on Illyasviel, lingering on her chest—the heart that served as the core of the Holy Grail.

“So I’m the target, after all?” Illya asked, her voice calm but tinged with resignation.

“It seems that way,” Assassin replied.

“But there’s a problem,” Illya said, her tone unnervingly casual. “As a Lesser Grail, I’ve developed a… malfunction.”

Her words left everyone stunned. The chaos within this Holy Grail War was far greater than any of them had anticipated.

“What do you mean? What happened?!” Assassin demanded, alarmed by the implication.

“I haven’t received any of the Servants’ souls,” Illya explained. “Rider, Caster, Lancer—none of their spirits have been absorbed into me. It’s as though something else has taken them.”

“Some thief…” Illya gritted her teeth, seething with anger at the theft of her function. Yet despite her fury, she showed no signs of fear.

Assassin’s mind raced. Archer had come to steal Illya’s heart, but then retreated unexpectedly. Could this be related to the missing souls? Could it be Gilgamesh? she wondered. If he could produce a treasure to replace the Lesser Grail, it wouldn’t surprise her in the least.

But even with a substitute, the Grail couldn’t be activated without the required five Servant souls—or some way to forcibly bypass that requirement. Assassin’s knowledge of magic fell short of understanding how such a process might work.

“If their goal isn’t the Lesser Grail,” Assassin mused aloud, “then what could it be? Were they here just to kill?”

“If killing was their intent, why did they retreat?” Illya countered. “They were winning, after all. And another thing—the golden one… he seemed to know you.”

“I don’t know,” Assassin replied curtly.

Her answer was interrupted by a sudden glow on the horizon. The blazing light of the sun was eclipsed, replaced by a crimson hue that spread across the sky like wildfire.

The end of the world…

—

Meanwhile, in Fuyuki City, the destruction from prior battles lay exposed. The ruined corridor was a blatant breach of secrecy, its devastation visible to the public. Perhaps the next Church Overseer would attempt to conceal the truth, but for now, the damage was undeniable.

The mastermind of the chaos, however, had no such concerns.

Riding her white steed, the pale Archer advanced steadily toward Ryuudou Temple. Her pace was deliberate, her focus unwavering.

When she arrived, Gilgamesh was waiting.

“Oh, Archer,” he said with mock civility, his voice dripping with disdain. “Sharing the same class as this king, and yet you failed to bring the Lesser Grail? That object is essential for the end you seek, is it not? Hmm? Or did you… forget, mongrel?”

“Not at all,” Archer replied softly.

“Bringing about humanity’s end is your goal, not mine,” Gilgamesh sneered. “I’m merely here as a spectator. But even a mongrel like you should be capable of such a simple task. Or perhaps you’d prefer to die instead?”

“But the Lesser Grail is ready.”

“Oh?” Gilgamesh raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “And where might it be?”

“I am the Grail.” Archer’s calm reply was followed by the rhythmic clatter of hooves as her horse carried her into the depths of Ryuudou Temple.

To manifest the Greater Grail, a vast amount of mana was required, necessitating a powerful leyline. Beneath Ryuudou Temple lay both the physical Grail and a leyline that made the site ideal for the ritual.

Archer began channeling energy into the Grail. Four Servants had already perished, their essence providing more than half the required energy. Yet to unleash All the World’s Evil upon humanity, one more Servant’s essence was needed.

The answer was simple—Archer would offer herself as the final sacrifice.

Black shadows began to seep from her body, pouring from her eyes, mouth, and every pore. The inky substance, writhing with malevolence, crept across her snow-white skin, staining it pitch black.

The pure white knight was no more. She had become the blackened harbinger of death.

Bound by her contract with Angra Mainyu, she had bypassed the rules of the Holy Grail War, forcibly drawing forth the Grail’s corruption. In bearing the weight of humanity’s sins, the White Knight was consumed, transformed into the Black Knight, the harbinger of the world’s end.

—

T/N: CLIFFHANGERRR

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!