This Is My Holy Grail War

Rider's Master lay unconscious and gravely injured in the chariot, his life hanging by a thread after a relentless assassination attempt. Rider wanted to hunt down the assailants lurking in the night, but Waver's critical condition tethered him in place.

He couldn't risk abandoning his wounded Master to chase the unseen sniper. Swallowing his seething anger, Rider instead turned his focus to observing the battle between Assassin and Archer.

"How peculiar," Rider murmured, stroking his chin in thought.

Archer had the upper hand, and while he wasn't immediately able to kill Assassin, the tide of battle clearly favored him. Why, then, had Archer's Master used a precious Command Seal to summon him back?

Originally, Rider had planned to intervene only when Assassin reached her limit, sweeping in to save her and earning her gratitude. To offer aid at the darkest hour would surely forge a stronger bond than helping when it wasn't needed.

But Rider's plans were dashed by Archer's sheer dominance. And just as he deemed it time to step in, Archer's Master abruptly withdrew his Servant using a Command Seal.

Rider had even caught the scowl of displeasure on Archer's face as he was recalled.

"Why summon him back now? Shouldn't it have been done once the situation became clearer?" Rider frowned, confused. "Given how things were progressing, it would've made more sense to recall Assassin, not Archer… something doesn't add up here."

Suspicion flared in Rider's mind—could Archer and Assassin have been staging a fight?

But the thought was quickly dismissed.

The searing heat of residual magical energy around Assassin, the scorched and cratered battlefield beneath her feet—all of it was far too real. A single misstep, one strike landing, would have meant certain death for her.

Deciding there was no ruse at play, Rider steered his chariot closer to Assassin, who was resting on the battlefield. He needed to stay near Waver for protection, but he also saw an opportunity to recruit her.

"I've seen it, both yesterday and tonight," Rider declared with enthusiasm. "Even the radiant moonlight of the night pales in comparison to your brilliance, Assassin. Like a star that outshines the moon itself, you embody the spirit of a perfect warrior, a noble knight."

He added with a grin, "Assassin—that's what I'll call you for now, though that title does no justice to your character."

"What exactly are you trying to say, Rider?" Assassin replied, her face tinged with a faint blush from the praise. Despite her flustered emotions, she maintained a composed demeanor.

"Have you figured it out yet?" Rider scratched the back of his head with a hearty laugh, revealing a row of gleaming white teeth. "You've already guessed my class, haven't you? What a clever girl."

Riding around in a massive chariot, no magic or swordplay to speak of… Who else could he be but Rider? Even an idiot could figure that out, Assassin thought with a wry smile.

"We share little in common, Rider," she said, trying to distance herself. "You're Rider, and I'm Assassin. We're enemies. One day, we'll have to face each other on the battlefield."

"No need to be so hostile, Assassin," Rider said, his tone turning earnest. "You're the Servant I respect the most in this Holy Grail War. Would you consider joining my army? Together, we could conquer the world and share in the joy of victory."

The Servant he respects the most? What does that even mean?! Assassin blinked, her confusion evident.

"Well, what do you think? Tempted?"

"I appreciate the offer, but I must decline," Assassin replied firmly. "You're a great king, Rider, but I have my own reasons to keep fighting."

"A cherished wish to fulfill, is that it?" Rider asked knowingly. "I understand. Life is short, after all. It's precisely because our time is fleeting that we must strive to achieve something truly meaningful."

I just don't want to die, that's all… Assassin thought, remaining silent.

"I've met many warriors like you, all with noble hearts," Rider mused aloud.

"Think what you like, Rider," Assassin said, her exhaustion evident. "I'm leaving. Perhaps we'll meet again someday." She was drained, yearning only for the safety of Kirei Kotomine's hideout and a long rest.

Rider made no attempt to stop her.

Assassin thought the night's bloody dance had finally ended, but just as the curtain seemed to fall, a shadow came barreling toward her from the darkness.

Even with her heightened senses, Assassin couldn't fully discern the figure. It was as though the shadow had melded perfectly with the surrounding darkness.

"AAAAH… ARTHUR!"

The voice reached her before the figure did.

Emerging from the shadows was a black-armored Berserker, a monstrous figure of rage.

He ripped a decorative column from the ruins nearby, gripping it like a weapon, and charged at Assassin.

Like an enraged beast, Berserker let out garbled howls, completely ignoring Rider as he surged forward.

In that moment, Berserker's maddened gaze saw only Assassin.

Exhausted but with no choice, Assassin gripped her iron sword tightly, preparing to face yet another foe.

Does Berserker think I'm King Arthur?!

The realization struck Assassin instantly. She had used her Noble Phantasm to take on Saber's appearance, and Berserker had mistaken her for Artoria Pendragon.

As Berserker rushed toward her, the truth became painfully clear:

In gaining the power of Saber Artoria, Assassin had also inherited her burdens—the ties and enmities linked to her visage.

What would Caster think if he saw me like this? A troubling thought surfaced in Assassin's mind.

But it wasn't just Berserker. Assassin's sharp intuition alerted her to another presence—Caster was lurking in the shadows, silently observing her.