This Is My Holy Grail War [193]

Rider’s feet pressed against blackened earth.

Hard. Cold. Soaked in the scent of blood.

The sensation stirred memories of his homeland.

Though the soil of his homeland had been rich and fertile, in those days, that was both a blessing and a curse.

Fertile land yielded more grain, enough to feed countless people. But abundant land also meant war—meant crushing taxes. Yet, they endured. Because life had to go on.

When Qin unified the Seven States, war ceased. The burden of taxes and forced labor only grew heavier, but Rider could bear it. At least, with war gone, there was no more suffering of parents burying their children. At least, they could celebrate the New Year in peace.

Rider was born into poverty—a farmer by birth, though he never liked farming.

From dawn till dusk, working himself to the bone, his body ached with exhaustion. The pay was meager. Every day left him in a foul mood.

Then, one day, as he passed beneath the gates of a landlord’s manor, a scent reached him.

A rich, tantalizing aroma seeped from within.

He wasn’t allowed inside. He never saw what it was.

But through the window, that fragrance drifted out, burrowing deep into his senses—one he would never forget.

From that moment, Rider made a vow.

He would change everything. He would seize wealth and power.

He didn’t know why these words embedded themselves so clearly in his mind. Perhaps it was because, as a child, he had read a few books—just enough to have some education.

Whenever he worked the fields alongside others, he would ask about their ambitions.

If they found success, would they help their neighbors?

He had thought—naïvely—that everyone held some great aspiration.

But his companions taught him a harsh lesson in reality.

He gnashed his teeth, furious at their lack of vision.

He despised them for it.

He stopped speaking to them altogether, convinced they were beneath him.

It wasn’t until much later that he understood why.

Because when he truly looked at their faces—every single one was gaunt, their skin sallow and waxen, their bodies frail and thin.

If he asked them about their ambitions…

They probably wouldn’t even understand the word.

Just surviving was already a struggle. How could they dare to dream of wealth and power?

And this was on fertile land.

Rider could only imagine how much worse life was elsewhere.

To change such a world was nearly impossible.

The weight of class crushed people beneath it. Farmers would always be farmers. Blacksmiths would always be blacksmiths. Whatever trade one’s ancestors practiced, the next generation was doomed to follow.

Some called it fate. A destiny that could not be overturned.

And for the common people, military service was part of that fate.

Rider, too, became a soldier—just as all commoners did.

But he was fortunate. He could read and write, and that secured him a minor position.

And in that moment—his fate changed.

The fire of rebellion surged through his mind.

He swore that if he rose, he would take the world with him.

All would share in prosperity.

A grand ideal, wasn’t it?

But when Rider was summoned by the Holy Grail—when he learned of his future—for a brief moment, he felt lost.

The memories given to him didn’t feel like something he had lived.

They felt like pages from a book.

Rider read them, knowing they spoke of things yet to come—yet the events within felt unreal.

But the details left no doubt.

It was history.

It was his future.

He had achieved wealth and power.

And then…

He had fallen.

He had lost all semblance of his younger self, becoming the very kind of noble he had once despised.

Rider knew he had rebelled.

He had been the first to raise the banner against Qin.

He had even become a king.

And in the end, he had known wealth. He had lived in luxury.

But he still couldn’t find that scent from long ago.

He had searched ceaselessly for it.

Roast chicken, roast duck, pork, beef—nothing matched that tender, mouthwatering fragrance.

No matter how much he tried to recall it, the memory was always just out of reach.

Guilt.

A deep, overwhelming guilt.

The feeling had carved itself so deeply into Rider’s soul that it became a lingering resentment—one that haunted his every thought, kept him restless through sleepless nights.

Summoned into this Holy Grail War, Rider wanted to atone for the future he had seen.

To create a land that existed only in dreams—a new Dazexiang, a paradise where all people could live in peace, where everyone was equal.

No more suffering.

No more cold.

No more hunger.

But before he could even catch a glimpse of such a paradise, all he saw was the apocalypse.

The land was littered with corpses. A modern graveyard, built upon countless bones.

“…Looks like we’re walking the same damn path again.”

Rider bit down on his lip hard, the sharp taste of blood seeping onto his tongue.

He welcomed the pain, using it to sharpen his focus, to clear his thoughts.

Master, remember to save a [Command Seal].

Rider sent the thought directly into his Master’s mind.

If I win… whatever you do, don’t let me near the Grail.

He repeated the warning, as if fearful that a single reminder wouldn’t be enough.

The future’s descent into decadence was burned into his mind, as though tempting him to follow the same path.

In his past memories, he had seen it all—banquets overflowing with wine, an endless parade of beauties.

Rider had once been consumed by such a life.

He had lost sight of his ideals completely.

Who could resist that kind of temptation?

It was easy to talk about resisting, but when truly faced with it, how many could actually do it?

Rider knew he couldn’t.

That was why he had made this decision.

To use the absolute authority of a [Command Seal].

To force himself away from the Grail’s temptation.

I understand. I’ll order you to stay away from the Grail.

But… are you really okay?

Anya’s voice was quiet, hesitant.

Her thoughts came through in fragments, her uncertainty clear.

But the mental transmission itself was crystal clear—Rider heard every single word.

Of course he wasn’t okay.

He was terrified.

He wasn’t the bravest man in the world, nor was he the most cowardly.

But standing face-to-face with the First Emperor of China—the man who had unified the six warring states—he knew he didn’t have the courage for this.

Archer’s identity had long been exposed.

Perhaps the sheer number of corpses around them had fueled his resolve.

This emperor had pursued immortality for years. And now, from the looks of it, he was willing to sacrifice an entire city for power.

I’m fine.

Rider spoke the words, but they didn’t match his heart.

And even as he said them, he saw him.

A Servant draped in a robe as dark as night.

A king whose very presence pressed down upon him, suffocating.

But even if fear clawed at his chest, even if this was where he died, even if there was no way out—

He could not let Archer obtain the Holy Grail.

Rider was not alone.

From the moment he first raised his arm in defiance, a vision had burned itself into his soul—one that would never fade.

A land that existed only in his mind.

A paradise built within the hearts of countless people who had once looked to him in hope.

A dream. A fantasy.

The Dazexiang that never was.

And in that moment—he didn’t know where the courage came from.

But he roared the words that shook the very heavens.

Standing firm, eyes locked onto Archer’s, refusing to take a single step back—

“Are kings and nobles born to rule?! Who decided that?!”

—

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!