This Is My Holy Grail War [109]

Though the castle appeared grand and resplendent, there was something unsettling beneath its facade. Magi, after all, were willing to pursue victory by any means necessary. No matter how vile or horrifying their methods, they executed them without a shred of hesitation.

After touring the magus workshop, Saber left the place that had left her with a queasy feeling, resolving to keep her distance from everyone in the castle—both Masters and Servants.

It wasn’t just the use of artificial humans as disposable tools; even the land itself exuded an ominous aura.

The Yggdmillennia family had gone to great lengths to accommodate each Servant, preparing individual rooms for them all with meticulous care.

Compared to typical magi, Darnic seemed almost respectable, displaying a rare reverence for Heroic Spirits. He made no unreasonable demands and refrained from treating Servants like mere tools.

At least, that was Saber’s impression thus far. Still, she remained wary. Her past experiences warned her that Darnic might simply be another schemer, akin to Tohsaka Tokiomi—a man whose polished facade concealed his manipulative nature. His courteous behavior could easily be a strategy to placate the Servants.

Entering her assigned quarters, Saber ensured she was alone before transforming into the form of Medea. Freed from the constraints of combat, she reopened the black grimoire she held.

In this guise, she resembled an ethereal beauty in a mage’s robe. Her soft chanting, incomprehensible to mortal ears, resembled the songs of mythical faeries. Her voice, delicate and airy, carried latent magic, causing ripples to shimmer faintly in the surrounding air.

A glowing, azure magical circuit began forming beneath her feet, expanding outward. As she chanted, the magic radiated, gradually assimilating everything within the room.

The power spread from the floor to the walls, then to the windows and ceiling, until every corner of the space was enveloped in its reach.

The ancient barrier magic of the Age of Gods transformed the room into a temporary workshop. Though she was a swordsman by class, Saber’s actions now mirrored those of a magus.

The grimoire contained numerous advanced spells, but Saber understood the importance of discretion. Despite her ample mana supply, she knew the value of subtlety. With her mana reserves, she could probably function as a Caster if needed, but magic remained an unfamiliar art to her compared to close combat.

Her priority was winning the war, but she had no trust in her allies. Thus, she meticulously followed the grimoire’s instructions, crafting a personal workshop to enhance her capabilities.

Just as her preparations neared completion, she heard her Master’s voice from beyond the door.

“Damn it… What’s going on here? Why won’t it open? Is the door broken?!”

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Three sharp knocks echoed through the room, betraying Gordes’s growing impatience. The pudgy magus seemed unable to breach the door.

Modern magi, Saber mused, often struggled even to detect the flow of magic, let alone dispel a proper barrier.

“It’s not locked. Just push it open,” she said. As she spoke, she shifted back into the form of Artoria.

Ever cautious, Saber instinctively donned her most combat-ready guise. With a subtle manipulation of mana, she unlocked the door. The sensation of freely controlling such abundant mana was intoxicating—like an endless wellspring, impossible to resist.

The door creaked open, revealing Gordes’s perplexed expression.

“It really wasn’t locked?” he muttered, his chubby face a mix of disbelief and embarrassment. “I’ve been yanking at it like an idiot…”

“Master, this is my private room. While you may be my summoner in this war, I must insist on some personal space.” Saber frowned, her irritation apparent from having her work interrupted.

“You think I want to be here?” Gordes snapped back, flustered. “I have important news to deliver, that’s all. And what’s with that attitude? I’m your Master! A Servant should serve me wholeheartedly!”

After his outburst, Gordes took a moment to compose himself.

“By the way, you are Lancelot, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“As a member of the Knights of the Round Table, what is your wish?” Gordes asked.

“My wish is victory,” Saber replied without hesitation.

“I said wish, not goal!” Gordes barked. “Stop trying to brush me off! Every Servant has a reason for responding to the Grail’s summons.”

Saber paused before answering, her tone even. “Yes, I do have a wish. After victory, I wish to live on.”

“Is that it?” Gordes scoffed. “I thought Heroic Spirits born from legend would have some grand, extraordinary ambition. But it’s just that? How ordinary.”

Saber dismissed his disdain, unfazed.

“So, what’s this important news?” she asked.

“It’s about the Red faction’s Saber,” Gordes began, his tone growing angrier. “The arrogant fool charged into our territory. Does she think being Saber-class means she can do whatever she wants? She’ll regret underestimating us soon enough!”

“And?”

“I’m here to summon you to the main hall,” Gordes explained. “Darnic relayed information about the enemy Servant through magic.”

“Why not just use a telepathic link? Why come here in person?” Saber asked, her brow furrowing.

The instant she asked, Gordes’s round face flushed crimson, as if he’d been caught red-handed.

He forgot, didn’t he? A magus, forgetting something as basic as telepathic communication…

Following Gordes to the main hall, Saber once again found herself in the room where she had been summoned. A magical projection flickered before them, displaying an image of the Red faction’s Saber in combat.

The enemy Saber was a petite woman with golden hair and emerald eyes. At first glance, she bore an uncanny resemblance to Artoria. Yet her fighting style was entirely different.

Unlike Artoria’s composed and knightly demeanor, this Saber’s method of combat was raw and visceral. She fought with unrelenting brutality, resembling a Berserker cloaked in the guise of a swordsman.

The projection showed her rampaging through a horde of puppets, dismantling them effortlessly. Though she carried a massive sword, she wielded it like a blunt instrument, making no effort to use it skillfully.

“Can you beat her, Saber?” Lancer’s voice broke the silence. He lounged on the throne, swirling wine in his goblet as he addressed Saber. “The Red Saber seems exceptional in every regard.”

“If we disregard her Noble Phantasm, defeating her should be straightforward,” Saber began, then corrected herself. “No, even factoring in her Noble Phantasm, I can win.”

“Excellent,” Darnic interjected, his tone composed yet tinged with subtle mockery. “The Red Saber will undoubtedly become one of our greatest threats. When the time comes, I entrust her to you, O Faceless Swordsman.” He bowed gracefully, his demeanor one of a dutiful servant. Yet Saber caught the faintest hint of derision in his words.

“It’s my duty. I will do my best,” Saber replied evenly.

That night, an unusual disturbance reached Saber’s ears. Reports spread that Caster had grown agitated over a missing homunculus.

Despite significant efforts to locate it, the escapee seemed to have vanished entirely—even within the heavily monitored Yggdmillennia castle.

Meanwhile, Gordes, unable to sit idle, suggested taking Saber to meet the special Servant summoned by the Grail as a mediator: Ruler.

—

T/N: YES YURI TIME

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!