This Is My Holy Grail War [40]

“So it’s you again, mongrel?!” Archer spat, his voice dripping with disdain. “A mere counterfeit king, daring to offend me not once, but time and again. What audacity fuels your arrogance?” Even as he lashed out, the golden portals of [Gate of Babylon] shifted, turning their deadly aim from Assassin to Rider.

“Arrogance? No, no, my reason for helping Assassin is perfectly justifiable!” Rider responded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Though Assassin is technically your ally, it wasn’t her choice. Besides, Assassin has already promised me—if she survives this war, she’ll join my army!”

“You insolent mongrel… Are you saying you intend to steal what belongs to me?!” Archer’s anger surged, his golden eyes blazing. “Are you seeking death?!”

“As a fellow king, surely you understand the importance of having royal demeanor,” Rider said casually, as though completely unbothered by the hostility directed at him. “If we’re both kings and Assassin stands before us, why don’t we let her decide whom she’ll follow?”

“Rider, what are you doing?!” Waver’s panicked voice called out as Rider hopped down from his chariot, carrying a barrel of wine.

“Obviously, we’re hosting a debate,” Rider announced matter-of-factly. “The topic? Who is more worthy to be Assassin’s king!”

Rider’s proposal carried no hostility, instead offering a strange acknowledgment of Archer’s kingship. While Archer had no need for such recognition, refusing this suggestion would be tantamount to undermining his own honor.

So, with an air of reluctant approval, Archer allowed Rider’s theatrics to proceed. He crossed his arms, waiting with an impatient scowl.

Rider opened the barrel, releasing the rich aroma of fine wine into the air. Assassin, who had tasted this very drink before, felt her spirits lift slightly just from the scent.

“But simply arguing seems far too dry,” Rider said, ladling wine into a goblet. “Why not drink as we discuss? Surely, neither of you has objections?”

No one voiced any disagreement, and Rider passed the goblet to Assassin.

“Assassin,” Rider said, “you’ve yet to find a reason to live, haven’t you? Just as this golden fellow suggested?”

“I suppose…” Assassin admitted, feeling the weight of the two kings’ presence bearing down on her.

“Why does it matter?” Rider said with a hearty laugh. “If you don’t have a reason, then live first, and find one later!”

“Live first, and find one later…” Assassin murmured. The idea resonated with her. Despite her overwhelming desire to survive, a hollow emptiness always lingered.

“People cling to life because of its beauty,” Rider continued. “That’s why they grow fond of this world, why they refuse to let it go. While I didn’t involve myself in the summit of knights—that’s their domain, not mine—I know enough about you, Assassin. Don’t worry about a goal now; just focus on staying alive.”

His words were as simple as they were compelling, and for Assassin, who had wandered through the war with no clear direction, they were like a light piercing through the fog.

“Perhaps… protecting this world could be your goal,” Rider suggested, grinning. “Once I’ve conquered the world, you could be its guardian. After all, conquest is my strength, not administration!” His booming laughter carried the sincerity of his bold proposition.

Assassin looked at him, then nodded. “All right.” She drained the wine in one decisive motion.

“Well said!” Rider exclaimed, clapping her on the back with a wide grin. “I’ve found the perfect general to defend my realm during my campaigns!”

Taking the empty goblet from Assassin’s hands, Rider refilled it and turned toward Archer.

“Your turn, Archer. Come down here and join us,” Rider called, looking up at the golden king standing on the rooftop antenna. “It’s hard to offer hospitality when you’re perched up there, don’t you think?”

“Humph.” Archer snorted, clearly displeased by the suggestion. Nonetheless, he descended, unwilling to turn down what was technically a courteous request.

Once Archer was on the ground, Rider handed him a goblet.

“Well then, Archer,” Rider said, “Assassin has agreed to my proposal. How do you plan to persuade her?”

Archer sipped the wine, his expression instantly souring. “What is this filth? Did you scrape it off a tavern floor? You dare serve this swill to me?” He waved his hand dismissively, and golden ripples appeared as he summoned a gleaming wine set from the [Gate of Babylon].

The wine jug and goblets radiated a golden glow, their craftsmanship so exquisite they seemed to reflect the light like polished mirrors.

“This is what real royalty drinks,” Archer declared with disdain.

“I admit defeat on that front,” Rider said, scratching his chin. “But once I conquer the world, such treasures will surely fall into my hands!”

“Foolish dreams, mongrel,” Archer sneered. “Your grand aspirations to conquer the world might sound noble, but what of Assassin’s wish? How do you intend to grant it?”

“Conquest is not a wish; it’s a goal!” Rider replied proudly. “Assassin and I share the same desire: a body, a foundation for a legacy. With such aligned goals, what conflict could arise?”

“How amusing,” Archer said, his tone softening slightly. “If Assassin is a blank canvas, does that make you the artist?”

“No,” Rider denied firmly. “The real artists are the heroes, the warriors, and the roar of battle itself. These are what shape Assassin, what fill her blank slate with meaning.”

Archer’s expression shifted, his golden eyes narrowing with intrigue. “Very well, Conqueror. I’ve decided: I will personally execute you.”

“Oh? Execute me, will you?” Rider’s brow arched, catching a subtle nuance in Archer’s choice of words.

“All treasures in the world belong to me,” Archer declared. “You, mongrel, have not only dared to covet what is mine but have also sought to claim someone under my protection. That alone is reason enough for me to destroy you—but as a hero, I have the right to personally end your existence.”

“If all treasures belong to you, does that include the Holy Grail?” Rider asked pointedly.

“Of course. If it is a treasure, it is mine,” Archer replied coolly. “Though not everything in my vault is a mere object. Assassin, for instance, would be an… exception.”

“Exception, you say?” Rider grinned.

“Yes, this mongrel has some worth,” Archer admitted grudgingly. “Should she agree to serve me, I might even reward her with the Grail.”

“And if she joins you, what would you command her to do?” Rider pressed.

Archer fell silent, genuinely considering the question for the first time.

“Many seek to steal from my treasury, mongrel. Whether it’s you or any other, none are worthy of my attention. Dealing with such vermin would sully my hands. Assassin would serve as my enforcer, dispensing punishment to those who dare offend my rule.”

“Assassin,” Rider turned to her. “Will you protect the legacy of a conquest or enforce Archer’s law?”

Assassin’s answer came without hesitation. “I just want to live. If I must choose, I’ll serve either purpose. I’ll find a goal after I survive.”

“Excellent!” Rider roared. “Archer, shall we settle this with a wager?”

“What wager?” Archer asked, intrigued.

“The victor of this Holy Grail War will not only claim the Grail but also become Assassin’s king,” Rider declared.

“If I win, she’ll become the guardian of my conquered world. If you win, she’ll enforce your rule. How about it?”

Archer’s laughter rang out, clear and regal.

“Very well. I accept your challenge!”

—

T/N: …IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

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!