This Is My Holy Grail War [204]

Marco witnessed it firsthand—the weaving of black magical energy. The threads of visible mana swirled through the air, gradually forming a precise and elegant magic circle. For a modern magus, it was nearly unimaginable—he actually saw Assassin shape mana with mere words.

Assassin was about to summon a second Servant, and perhaps that would place an even greater magical burden on him. He didn’t seem to mind, but Inka certainly did.

Only, Inka cared for him—and he cared even more for her.

“Rather than fussing over these insignificant matters, let’s see who Assassin ends up summoning.” Insignificant? The Holy Grail War itself was nothing more than a means for Marco to heal Inka. As far as he was concerned, the Grail was meaningless—so long as her health could be restored.

“Cough, cough, cough…” Inka’s quiet coughing punctuated the air, but that too was part of the price. No one cared about her—except him. To everyone else, even the summoned Servants, Inka was just a frail girl with a chronic illness.

Marco gritted his teeth hard, shooting a hostile glare toward Ahad before turning his gaze back to Assassin.

And once again, surprise struck him. Assassin had transformed into a magus? In every visible aspect, he now bore all the traits of a spellcaster—his true class thoroughly hidden.

If Marco hadn’t known Assassin’s real identity, even he—as the Master—would’ve been fooled. The Grail’s ability to grant insight to a Master had been overridden by Assassin’s Noble Phantasm.

Then Marco heard a strange tongue—a rapid chant so fast it was impossible to decipher. Moments later, fire erupted violently, heralding the arrival of a Servant. From the crimson blaze, a black-clad swordsman emerged.

“Did Assassin change?” Ahad, watching carefully, asked Marco. “And which Servant did he summon?”

“Assassin himself hasn’t changed. He clearly holds the Avenger class, yet he shows no sign of hatred. Or perhaps his grudge is… strange. He doesn’t seem in any rush. And the Servant he just summoned—that’s no ordinary summon.”

“An illegal summoning?” The black Saber locked eyes with Assassin, and the atmosphere instantly grew tense. But the next moment, Saber spoke casually, “This isn’t a duel between knights. War doesn’t require fairness.”

Whew. Marco finally let out a breath. He felt utterly drained. Assassin had only just been summoned to this world, his mana reserves hadn’t even fully recovered—and now he’d used his own power to summon yet another Servant.

More Servants didn’t mean more power. Each Heroic Spirit had their own wish, their own burdens. And the mana consumption was no small thing—it placed strict limits on how many a single Master could sustain.

Summoning a Servant this close to the Grail’s emergence was more a desperate act than a strategy. Most magi couldn’t bear the crushing mana cost of supporting even one Servant, let alone two. They had to offload much of the burden onto the Grail itself.

That was why, when Assassin first mentioned summoning a second Servant, Inka had opposed him—she was worried about Marco.

Now that Saber had arrived, it was Marco who was suffering. His muscles twitched, convulsing slightly. The pain was sharp—piercing. But Marco merely furrowed his brow. Pain was something he’d become far too familiar with.

And it was all because of Inka—and the mage’s crest she inherited.

There was something unusual about Inka’s crest. Marco discovered that his father hadn’t died in vain—he had left behind a remarkable legacy.

Marco called it “Before Death,” much like the meaning behind the name Wuyue. Wuyue had uncovered a way to delay the process of dying—not immortality, but a conceptual restraint on death itself. It didn’t prevent death; it simply deferred it.

It allowed someone, grievously wounded—essentially dead—to still act. But that wasn’t true immortality. Unless the injuries were treated and the spell lifted, the inevitable still came.

It couldn’t stop death. It couldn’t revive the dead. The magic merely postponed death—it didn’t heal.

It was somewhat like the [Battle Continuation] skill of ancient heroes—except usable on others. But it couldn’t prevent aging, so natural death was unavoidable.

Marco had managed to survive the bounty hunters thanks largely to Inka’s aid. But the spell came at a heavy cost. He watched Inka’s body grow weaker by the day. Even the wealthy and resourceful Einzbern family had failed to improve her condition.

Removing the mage’s crest was the only option—but it had already fused with her body. Extraction would be like ripping out an organ. Even if the procedure succeeded, Inka’s body wouldn’t survive the strain.

“It’s Saber,” Ahad spoke again, now calm—but his eyes still betrayed excitement. Marco could sense the old man’s fervor.

“Of course. I know the Holy Grail War well.” Assassin extended a hand to the swordswoman, and the black Saber grasped it without hesitation. “Let’s work well together, Saber.”

“Seems we’ve been through quite a bit already,” Saber said, not letting go of Assassin’s hand. She raised her head, looking at the hooded figure before her.

“Are you referring to this?” Assassin lifted the sword’s scabbard. A hidden smile briefly flickered on his face—Marco, standing to the side, couldn’t see it.

“That belongs to me,” Saber said sharply.

“And yet now, it’s mine.”

“Stolen?”

“Gifted.”

“Very well. If you retrieve the Grail for this king, you shall not go unrewarded. A mere scabbard—I can part with it.” Saber appeared magnanimous. But Assassin, just like that, ceded the Grail’s use? Marco was stunned.

“No problem,” Assassin said calmly. “I will win it for you. That omnipotent wish-granting vessel—it’s yours, Saber.”

“Hold on,” Ahad suddenly interjected. “The Grail wasn’t meant to be used like this.”

“You intend to interfere with my wish?” Saber’s tone turned sharp. She even raised a hand. Though invisible, Marco felt the hidden sword. The sensation came from Assassin—he was sharing his perception with him.

“Not at all, Saber,” Ahad replied. “But isn’t it a bit selfish, using it only to save Britain?”

“Selfish? I am the king of Britain. Of course I’ll save my people,” Saber said, as if it were obvious.

“I’m not asking you to abandon your wish,” Ahad said with a sincere smile. “But why not use the Grail to save all of humanity? That’s the wish of our family—and it wouldn’t conflict with yours at all. Wouldn’t that make you seem more compassionate, Your Majesty?”

“If it can be done in passing, this king doesn’t mind. But if it requires sacrificing Britain’s interests, then this king will show no mercy. What do you think, Assassin?”

“As you wish,” Assassin replied. The closeness between the two Servants was startling—there was no tension between them over the Grail. Assassin had yielded far too easily. Marco couldn’t help but wonder if something more was going on.

“Very good. We’re in agreement.” The wish to save humanity was the true goal of the Einzbern family—or rather, of the disciples of the Third Magic.

Before long, the immortal relic of Einzbern turned his gaze on Marco. He glanced at Inka and said, “You’ll depart for Yucatán soon—but I want you to leave her here. She may have the power to help you, but in a war like this, you can’t afford to be distracted by her.”

“I refuse!” Marco answered without hesitation.

“Don’t forget—it was we who sheltered you.”

“You didn’t shelter me. I drove them off!”

Inka was the head of the Wuyue family, which technically put her on the side of justice. But Marco couldn’t let that fact be made public—if word got out, Inka would be marked for Sealing Designation without a doubt.

That kind of death-defying magic—the sort that made Clock Tower magi go mad with greed. Marco couldn’t be certain how far they’d go, but he wasn’t about to take that risk.

So long as he bore the blame alone, he’d at most remain a wanted man with a bounty on his head. And with his level of combat power, the price on his head wasn’t high enough to attract the kind of bounty hunters who could actually threaten him.

But a Sealing Designation? That was another matter. He had no confidence he could protect Inka from the Clock Tower’s Enforcers if it came to that. So instead, he chose to shoulder a false crime, driving back wave after wave of enemies, surviving—brutally.

But Inka’s body was nearing its limit. He had to make a choice.

That was when Marco learned of the Holy Grail War—and chose to enter. Thanks to his formidable strength, the Einzbern family saw him as a viable candidate.

“But you need to understand,” the old man warned, “the last Grail War destroyed an entire city. Few survived. If she goes with you, she may very well die!”

The repeated failures of previous Holy Grail Wars had driven them to further refine the system. This Grail was a replica of Fuyuki’s, or rather, modeled on it—a perfected version.

They retained the successful Lesser Grail framework, and this new system also had a purification function for summoned Servants. Though this would be its first field test, they believed the technology was stable.

Recruiting combat-specialized magi from outside had also been deemed feasible. Kiritsugu Emiya had betrayed the Einzberns on the very brink of claiming the Grail—so this time, the solution was simple: make sure the magus couldn’t betray them.

Inka… was their guarantee that Marco wouldn’t.

Marco needed the Grail’s power. The Einzberns had granted him a ticket into the war—along with various forms of support. But nothing the Einzberns gave ever came free. Forcing Inka to remain with them was nothing more than taking her hostage. It was an open scheme—and Marco had no choice but to accept it.

“Hmph.” Ahad, seeing Marco fall silent, flung his long sleeves with a scowl. “Take your time and think it over. But remember—your girlfriend might not survive another city-wide blast.”

“No rush on the departure.” It was Assassin who spoke next, casually intrigued. “But I haven’t yet seen this Lesser Grail you’ve made. The key to the Holy Grail War—I’d like to take a look.”

“Hmm…” Ahad was silent for a moment before finally nodding and leading them away. Assassin seemed to know far more than Marco had expected—as though everything about the war, even its flaws, was already in the palm of his hand.

“Let me come with you. I can help.” Once Ahad was gone, Inka finally spoke, her voice soft.

“There’s no need.” Marco made his decision. “I’ve already come to terms with the Einzberns. Whether I win or lose, they’ll continue to protect you.”

“But you—”

“A Master is just support. The Holy Grail War is fought between Servants. You don’t need to worry about me.” Marco told her a gentle lie.

“That’s a relief,” Inka sighed.

Marco sat down on the pew of the church, silently offering a prayer for Inka. A magus, a heretic, bowing his head to God for mercy. And his prayer was sincere. He remained that way for a long time—until Ahad returned, accompanied by the Servants. Only then did Marco slowly open his eyes… and see the key to the Grail.

The Lesser Grail was no different in appearance from any of the other Einzbern maids. Skin pale and delicate as fresh snow, her long hair shimmered with silver under the chapel’s light. Her face was ethereal, like a jewel carved by a master craftsman, and her eyes beneath their long lashes gleamed red like rubies—beautiful enough to take one’s breath away.

Freshly created, her gaze was still lost and unfocused, which lent her a kind of innocent beauty.

She clung timidly to the hem of Assassin’s cloak, too scared to speak, to move. Wherever Assassin went, the Lesser Grail followed.

She looked about sixteen or seventeen in appearance—but in truth, she wasn’t even three days old. Perhaps today was the first time she’d ever seen the sun.

“So this is the Lesser Grail?” Marco muttered to himself. Using a construct this refined as a disposable tool—only the Einzberns could afford such extravagance.

Unexpectedly, his musing made the Lesser Grail tremble.

“I’m scared…” The homunculus girl didn’t even dare look at Marco—her red eyes filled with fear as she glanced toward Ahad. After speaking, she immediately hid behind Assassin, her fragile body trembling.

To magi, tools with emotions were a flaw—an unwanted variable. Marco didn’t have to guess how Ahad would react.

Magus, Marco thought bitterly. What a damn word.

“Seems there’s a programming error,” Ahad muttered, frowning. “She shouldn’t fear death. Looks like we’ll need to manufacture a new Lesser Grail. A defective product should be destroyed.”

He stepped forward—only for Assassin to block his path.

“No.”

Assassin drew her blade—not against an enemy, but against her own ally. And yet—well done, Assassin.

Though cloaked in the robes of a magus, she transformed in the next instant into a knight. With her longsword in hand, she spun it in a flourish, graceful and bold.

She was a woman—yet unexpectedly striking.

Before Marco, two “Sabers” had drawn their blades. This was open hostility.

As a magus, Marco knew all too well: even in the brief span of a few days, the power of these two Servants could overturn the entire Clock Tower.

Against such overwhelming force, even the Einzberns had to back down. The Grail War was about to begin, and constructing another Lesser Grail in such a short time would be a nightmare. Ahad’s talk of replacing her had merely been a maneuver—to curry favor with Assassin. But he’d badly misjudged her personality.

Still, no matter what, the Lesser Grail’s fate was sealed. Assassin had only bought her a few extra days of life.

“Enough,” Marco stepped in to ease the tension. “Let’s begin preparations to head for the Americas. Even if we wanted to build another Lesser Grail, there’s not enough 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!