This Is My Holy Grail War [32]

At Tokiomi Tohsaka’s request, Kirei Kotomine had summoned Hassan, though he never truly knew which Hassan this Assassin was meant to be. The servant had never revealed their legend, offering only a hollow wish—to survive.

This desire burned so fiercely that, even through the tenuous bond of the Command Spell contract, Kirei could sense Assassin’s deep, unrelenting resolve.

Kirei had struggled to grasp Assassin’s motives before. But at this moment, he knew one thing for certain: Assassin would never be loyal to him.

Thus, Kirei raised the Command Spell once more and issued a compulsory order—not for self-destruction, but to extract every last ounce of value from Assassin. He would use them to probe Lancer’s limits.

The aftermath of the recent explosion had left rubble and debris scattered across the once-beautiful street. A faint stench lingered in the air.

Standing amidst the ruins, Assassin, who had remained still, suddenly moved. Black mist swirled ominously around them in the air.

A faint clink, clink echoed—the sound of armor shifting.

Out of the inky darkness, Assassin transformed into the likeness of Artoria Pendragon and took their first step toward Lancer.

With each rhythmic clank of their armored footsteps, Assassin drew closer to Lancer.

“What are you planning, Assassin?” Lancer demanded, his voice tinged with suspicion.

Assassin sighed and replied softly, “Apologies… but I have no choice.”

“A Command Spell?!” Lancer realized, his tone sharpening. Assassin’s voice followed, biting and filled with resentment.

“Yes, a Command Spell!” They spat the words through gritted teeth.

From the shadows, Kenneth watched, the corner of his mouth curling into a smug smile. “Ah, what a pathetic joke these Executors are,” he sneered, mocking both Kirei Kotomine and Assassin without mercy. “Heartless and devoid of loyalty, yet not acting out of personal ambition. Such inhuman beings are better off dead.”

Each of Assassin’s steps felt leaden. They strained with every movement, futilely resisting the Command Spell’s control. Yet… it was meaningless.

If resistance was futile, then perhaps… submission was worth a try.

The moment Assassin stopped struggling, the Command Spell’s power no longer felt like a shackle. Instead, it subtly boosted their attributes across the board, albeit only slightly.

Assassin launched their attack, awkwardly swinging the plain knightly sword in their hand.

In combat, their instincts and intuition offered little support. Their Eye of the Mind couldn’t function effectively without their opponent taking action, and their intuition couldn’t provide feedback without immediate threats. It left them groping blindly.

When Assassin closed in on Lancer, his reaction triggered their defenses. What followed was peculiar—a charge that abruptly halted just before collision.

Then, in a sudden burst of agility, Assassin closed the distance, engaging in a chaotic, up-close skirmish. Even the dual-wielding Lancer found them maddeningly difficult to deal with.

If he relaxed for even an instant, Assassin would exploit the opening for a counterattack. And unless the blow was a decisive strike, Assassin would always find a way to escape!

“Impeccable footwork, but it seems you’ve forgotten how to wield your sword properly,” Lancer remarked. “Is that due to your class?”

Even Saber had noticed it, and an experienced warrior like Diarmuid Ua Duibhne saw it too.

Lancer’s dual spears weren’t his ideal weapons. He excelled with swords. If summoned as a Saber, he would wield both a divine longsword and a divine shortsword.

More than anyone, Lancer understood the frustration of a mismatched class. Forced to abandon his best skills, he had taken up spears instead.

“Your footwork is extraordinary. Your insight is admirable. And every counterattack of yours is a challenge to repel.” Lancer analyzed Assassin’s movements with precision. Agility was Lancer’s forte, yet in a contest of sheer maneuverability, Assassin surpassed him.

“You’re also a knight—and skilled in deception. It seems you don’t mind cross-dressing either,” Lancer quipped, pivoting to a new topic. “Or is it just that you don’t mind impersonating Saber?”

“What are you trying to say?” Assassin frowned.

“I’m saying that you deduced my true name from just a few words. Let me return the favor and guess yours!” Lancer declared, his pride as a knight compelling him to respond in kind. Having been unmasked earlier, he was determined to match Assassin in every way.

What an idiot, Assassin thought, exasperated. You’ll never guess. Even I don’t know! They regarded Lancer with a bewildered expression, as though staring at a lunatic.

“At first, seeing you disguised as Saber, I suspected you might be Chevalier d’Eon, the Knight of the Lily. But later, I realized I was wrong,” Lancer said seriously. “Now, however, I’ve uncovered your true identity!”

“Huh?!” Assassin, who had been searching for an opening, froze. They stared blankly at Lancer. You’ve got to be kidding. Did you actually figure it out? Even they didn’t know their own identity!

“You showed no surprise at Saber’s identity,” Lancer explained, his tone confident. “Even I was shocked to discover King Arthur was a woman, but you accepted it as natural. Who else would think that way, if not someone who knew the truth of history?”

Initially, Lancer had suspected d’Eon, but Assassin’s disguises were not limited to a single identity. They had even impersonated him, revealing their transformations hid attributes as well as appearances.

“You’re intimately familiar with Saber—far more so than I. When Saber unleashed [Excalibur], you reacted before the attack landed, fleeing before its full release!” Lancer reasoned further.

“It’s as if Saber holds no secrets from you!” Lancer’s deduction struck close to the truth. Assassin couldn’t argue—when [Excalibur] rose, escaping had been their only option.

“There aren’t many who could get that close to the King of Knights…” Lancer hesitated for a moment before declaring, “Your identity is clear. You are Lancelot of the Lake!”

“The strongest knight of your age, whose martial skills are unparalleled. Such mastery of footwork makes perfect sense!” Lancer proclaimed loudly.

“As a member of the Round Table, you couldn’t possibly be unaware of King Arthur’s identity! Your disguise as Saber… it’s because she’s your liege!”

“Sir Lancelot?!” Saber, observing the battle, was stunned. Her expression shifted to one of guilt as she addressed Assassin. “So you are Sir Lancelot! Was this your intent from the beginning? Your Noble Phantasm… If I recall, it isn’t one meant for personal glory, is it?” Her voice trembled slightly, tinged with hope. She awaited a response, but Assassin gave none.

Nod? Shake their head? What could Assassin even say?

They weren’t Lancelot, but their Noble Phantasm truly was [Not For One’s Own Glory]. Lancer’s deductions had left them no room to refute!

At that moment, the nameless Assassin was forcibly crowned with an identity they couldn’t discard.

Unless they could present a more convincing explanation or name someone from history more fitting, to everyone else—they were Lancelot.

—

T/N: LMAOOOOOOOO

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!