This Is My Holy Grail War [38]

Sola!

The name burned in Kenneth’s mind as he jolted awake. His eyes fluttered open to an unfamiliar ceiling.

Above him was a plain incandescent bulb, casting harsh white light. The small room bore no trace of magecraft—just the simplicity of an ordinary bedroom.

The air reeked of disinfectant, its sharp odor cutting through even Kenneth’s dulled senses.

“Where… where am I? Where’s Sola?!” Kenneth struggled to rise but found himself utterly drained of strength.

His entire body was wrapped in thick bandages, leaving him resembling a mummy. The flames had burned nearly every inch of him, reducing his once-proud body to a fragile shell. His once-bright, commanding eyes were now dim and lifeless in their sunken sockets.

“Master!” Waver Velvet burst through the door, visibly flustered.

Like Kenneth, Waver hadn’t truly grasped the reality of the Holy Grail War at first. But after witnessing the chaos of the battlefield and surviving an explosion, he had matured significantly. Though he could have chosen otherwise, he had saved his teacher’s life.

“Waver?!” Kenneth stared at his student in shock before refocusing on what truly mattered. “Where is Sola?!”

“She’s fine,” Waver stammered, nervous under his teacher’s scrutiny.

Kenneth exhaled deeply, visibly relaxing.

“She’s hurt much less than you are. She hasn’t woken up yet, but… she’s stable,” Waver explained. “The room here is small, and your wounds required the most attention, so I—” He hesitated, unable to meet Kenneth’s gaze. Even though his teacher lay battered and frail, Waver couldn’t shake his lingering fear of the man.

For years, Kenneth’s imposing presence had loomed over him. The guilt of having stolen from his mentor only compounded his anxiety.

“I need to see Sola—” Kenneth’s attempt to sit up sent shockwaves of pain through his body, forcing him to grit his teeth. His nerves screamed in agony, each sensation amplified to unbearable levels.

“I… I’m sorry, Master,” Waver confessed, mustering his courage. “I don’t know enough healing magecraft to treat your wounds completely.”

Kenneth’s pain-stricken gaze softened slightly.

“This… isn’t magecraft, is it?” Kenneth asked, though he already knew the answer.

“No,” Waver admitted, his head hanging low.

“You’ve grown, Waver,” Kenneth said, his voice carrying a faint note of approval rather than the reprimand Waver expected. “Good thinking—using modern knowledge to make up for what you lack.”

The trials of Fuyuki had humbled Kenneth. Once a proud and untouchable aristocrat, he now saw the futility of the mage’s endless pursuit of the Root.

What was the point of accolades or magical achievements? Kenneth no longer held disdain for modern tools, even those that had shattered his pride. Instead, he found himself intrigued by the possibilities they offered.

“Adapting when you can’t succeed by traditional means… You’re maturing, Waver,” Kenneth mused. “Taking Rider into battle with such bravery—even when ambushed, you didn’t panic. You’ve earned my respect.”

“Me? Respect?” Waver blinked in disbelief.

“I told you, boy! Be bold!” Rider’s voice boomed from behind the door, accompanied by a triumphant thumbs-up.

Bold?! You shoved me into battle! Waver clenched his fists, veins bulging in exasperation.

“Can you find me… a wheelchair?” Kenneth’s weak voice broke the moment. “I need to see Sola.”

Though Kenneth tried using magecraft to heal himself, he knew the limits of such methods. Healing spells simply accelerated cell division, which took a toll on the body. Even with an abundance of mana, the body couldn’t endure unlimited regeneration.

Satisfied with Waver’s help, Kenneth prepared to meet Sola.

“Servant Saber is a noble soul, but her Master? I can’t stand him,” Waver muttered as he exited Kenneth’s room.

“I don’t like him either,” Rider replied, “but I don’t hate him.”

“Why not?”

“Because this is war,” Rider said firmly. “War doesn’t allow mercy. Kill or be killed—that’s the way of the battlefield.” He patted Waver on the back, urging him to stand taller.

“Listen well, my little Master. This war is just the start. Bigger, more incredible things await you, boy. The Holy Grail War is but a mere ritual in the grand scheme of your life.”

Waver stared at Rider, incredulous. Was it truly possible to witness greater miracles than the summoning of legendary heroes?

From a distance, Waver watched Kenneth stubbornly wheel himself down the corridor. The mage’s eyes burned with determination, a sight so fierce it silenced any offer of assistance.

—

At Sola’s bedside, Kenneth leaned in close, his voice tender.

“Rest, my love. When you wake, we’ll leave this wretched place behind.”

He no longer cared about the Holy Grail. Victory held no meaning if it cost Sola her life. Better to live with humiliation than to die here in this foreign land.

“Waver.”

“Yes, Master!” Waver stood at attention like a soldier called to duty.

Kenneth raised his arm. Beneath the bandages, his Command Spells glowed faintly red.

Initially, Kenneth had intended to transfer his Command Spells to Waver, but the realization dawned: Waver’s mana reserves were insufficient to sustain Lancer.

Kenneth’s body, too, was nearing its limit. Magecraft had drained his vitality, and his time was running out. Without a successor or heir, Kenneth had made his decision.

“Whatever the outcome, come see me at the Clock Tower when this is over,” Kenneth said.

“Yes, Master,” Waver replied, nodding solemnly.

“Give me your hand,” Kenneth instructed. Though transferring a Command Spell was a simple task, Kenneth’s decision carried profound weight.

By nightfall, Kenneth had made up his mind to leave Fuyuki.

Lancer, recalled by Kenneth, busied himself packing their belongings at the Hyatt Hotel.

“Is Master leaving?” Waver asked cautiously.

“Yes,” Lancer said, his voice heavy with regret.

For Lancer, serving his Master was his sole purpose. Without Kenneth, the Grail was meaningless. If he couldn’t serve, why remain in this sorrowful place?

Yet even in defeat, Lancer had remained loyal to the end, refusing to betray his Master. But before leaving, there was one thing he had to do.

Lancer approached Rider and Waver, his expression solemn yet serene.

“I, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, thank you both from the bottom of my heart,” he said. “Rider, may your conquests know no bounds. My Master and I will be watching. Someday, I hope we can share a drink and a laugh at a grand feast.”

With those words, Lancer turned his spear on himself, driving it into his chest.

“If only I could serve my Master once more… and bring him victory…” he murmured before his body dissolved into golden light.

…

“He’s gone… A hero to the end,” Rider sighed. “A loyal knight through and through.”

Waver watched the fading particles of Lancer’s essence in silence.

“Come, boy. There’s still someone waiting for us,” Rider said, his tone firm. The Holy Grail War wasn’t over yet. There was no time for mourning.

—

T/N: waver truly is the GOAT

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!