This Is My Holy Grail War [75]

The long night stretched on, with only her sword for company. Assassin left the temple gate behind, her blade in hand. What remained in that place was just Sasaki Kojirou, alone with his longsword.

Although Assassin had begun walking the divine path of swordsmanship under Kojirou’s guidance, she had only glimpsed its entrance.

She needed far more practice to fully master the blade in her hand. While Assassin had gained a deep appreciation for the art of the sword, she had yet to truly integrate its principles.

Returning to her small room, she walked through the moon-shadowed corridors and pushed open the door she had left ajar. The room wasn’t large, but it offered enough space to train.

From that moment on, Assassin dedicated herself to practice. The first strike… then the second… Casting aside all distractions, she immersed herself in pursuing her inner secret sword technique.

Time passed, and the arc of her blade transformed. The once straightforward, linear strikes became crisscrossing slashes, far harder to evade. Yet no matter how precise or intricate her strikes, the swallow in her mind always found a way to dodge.

She wasn’t proficient yet, but she had found a method. In her mental battlefield, the swallow—guided by her instincts and foresight—eluded every possible angle of attack.

“What exactly are you doing?”

The voice startled Assassin, and she turned to find Caster stepping into the room. The mage’s expression was a mix of curiosity and confusion. Assassin gently set down her sword and replied, “I’m practicing my technique.”

“Practicing techniques? Why waste your time on that man’s dull antics?” Caster’s disdain was evident as she scoffed. “Crude tricks, devoid of any intellect. Why bother learning such nonsense?”

“I am a nameless assassin,” Assassin sighed. “I rely on imitating others to fight. Caster, you are my Master. Could you tell me what your Noble Phantasm is?”

“You’ve seen it already,” Caster replied curtly, her brows furrowing.

“Yes, it’s the culmination of your life’s glory,” Assassin said softly. “But I am just an unknown killer. I’ll never have the chance to be celebrated or immortalized. I long to be recorded in the Throne of Heroes, to live on forever, free from the fear of being forgotten by the world.”

Her voice grew quieter. “Did you know? Before becoming your Servant, I encountered an Archer. She invited me to join her in destroying the world.”

“I… almost accepted. What does it matter if the world is destroyed, so long as it remembers me? But I’m just an Assassin—I don’t have the power to choose my own path. My mana comes from my Master; without you, I would vanish in an instant. So I have no choice but to follow you, my immature Master, down this dark road.”

“My stats aren’t weak, but my swordsmanship is clumsy and unrefined. I can’t pose a threat to the other Servants. My only strength lies in mimicking Saber’s appearance, which gives me the power to compete. You saw it yourself—I was summoned for this Holy Grail War. I’m just an ordinary person masquerading as a Heroic Spirit, yet I cannot bear the weight of the title.” Assassin tightened her grip on her sword’s hilt.

“That’s why I have to master the way of the sword.”

“I was desperate to meet Sasaki Kojirou and learn even a fragment of his craft. I’m grateful to him.” Assassin’s words were direct, unafraid of reprisal. “Please… treat him a little better in the future. He’s a good man, even if his mouth can be foul.”

Silence filled the room. Caster didn’t interrupt, choosing instead to listen to everything Assassin said. Despite her reputation as a witch, Medea’s temper wasn’t as volatile as stories suggested.

“Such determination,” Caster finally said, her tone warm as she stepped closer to Assassin. To the latter’s surprise, there was no anger—only a gentle touch as Caster tilted her chin. “But reaching the level of a Noble Phantasm… that crude swordsmanship is far from enough.”

“I don’t know what else to do,” Assassin admitted hesitantly. “But if I can master the [Tsubame Gaeshi] technique, even without legends or a Noble Phantasm, I can stand among Heroic Spirits.” She clenched her fists tightly.

“What a wonderful child,” Caster murmured, smiling softly. Her face was hidden beneath her hood, but the sincerity in her voice was clear. “It feels like we’ve become a proper family.”

For reasons she couldn’t explain, Assassin felt a strange warmth in Caster’s gaze—like the affection of a teacher or mother.

“When I was your age, I dreamed of romantic adventures alongside legendary heroes,” Caster continued wistfully. “But as I grew older, I realized heroes aren’t as glorious as they seem. I even came to regret it… Fighting them head-on with mere swordsmanship is a losing game. Fortunately, I have a better solution.”

“And what is that?” Assassin asked.

“Magecraft,” Caster replied proudly. “As you’ve seen, the Servants in this Holy Grail War are spirits of heroes from across time. But it’s magecraft that binds them together. The Holy Grail is nothing more than an advanced magical system. If it can be created, it can be dismantled.”

A mischievous grin spread across her face, sending a chill down Assassin’s spine. The intent to toy with others was palpable.

“Would you like to learn?” Caster asked. “My magecraft.”

Assassin hesitated, nervous but determined. “Yes, I want to learn.”

“My magecraft was taught directly by the goddess Hecate herself. Do you think a mere mortal like you can master such divine arts?” Caster’s words were sharp.

She’s right… How could I possibly learn something from the Age of Gods? Assassin thought, doubt creeping in.

“But how will I know unless I try?” she whispered, her voice small but resolute. “Could you teach me?”

“If you truly desire it, I might take the time to guide you. But I’m quite busy, so I’ll give you the materials—you can study on your own.”

With that, Caster produced a thick, heavy grimoire.

Assassin’s eyes widened in disbelief as she accepted the tome. It was filled with complex magical formulas, spells, and techniques. Despite its daunting size, the text was written in a straightforward manner, clearly designed to minimize misunderstandings—even for a novice.

“Take your time and learn bit by bit,” Caster said with a smile. “Don’t skip chapters. I hope you make it to the end.”

The book felt almost tailor-made for her, yet it bore the annotations of its previous users. Even with the notes, the intricate formulas were almost incomprehensible to Assassin.

This is so… difficult!

Even the simplest chant for high-speed casting made her head throb.

Forcing herself to calm down, Assassin began reading carefully from the very first word. She absorbed each line methodically, ensuring she missed nothing—not even the scribbled notes in the margins. The emerald glow of her eyes reflected every word.

—

Hours passed, and when Assassin finally closed the book, she was startled to find Caster still in the room.

“Master… may I keep this book?” she asked hesitantly, cradling the grimoire close. “The knowledge inside is invaluable.”

“Of course,” Caster replied, her tone light but sincere.

In that moment, Assassin understood what Kojirou had meant by finding calm. She now had a way to focus herself, and she was willing to dedicate her precious time to mastering it.

—

T/N: M-m-mommy Medea?!

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!