This Is My Holy Grail War

Chapter 17: This Is My Holy Grail War [17]



Just a little longer… just hold out a little longer!

Despite the relentless battle, Assassin found herself adapting to the body she had replicated from Saber.

Kirei Kotomine's mana coursed through her, not in abundance but at a steady rate that outpaced her own slow consumption.

Her left arm, however, was already numb.

Earlier, a single mistake had resulted in a direct clash with Berserker.

The sound of her bones fracturing still echoed in her mind. It hurt—terribly so. But she couldn't afford to falter. To stop was to die.

Her body was drenched in blood, her movements razor-thin in their precision. Just one misstep, and she would fall to Berserker's savage strength.

"There's no need to push yourself so hard, Assassin," Rider muttered as he observed her.

For a fleeting moment, Saber's image flashed in his mind.

Yes, they looked nearly identical. But there was a stark difference in spirit.

Last night, Rider had noted the contrast between their expressions—one exuding martial pride, the other quiet nobility.

Now, however, after witnessing this battle, he saw Saber's shadow in Assassin's defiant stance.

"What's happening… Rider?!" Waver Velvet groaned, groggily waking from his unconscious state. He winced, clutching his head.

"Nothing much," Rider replied with a wry smile. "Just watching a brave knight fight a mad beast."

Waver blinked in confusion at Rider's words, then scrambled to sit up in the chariot. What he saw left him dumbstruck: two Servants dancing a deadly waltz under the moonlight.

"What is going on here, Rider?!" Waver's voice cracked, his gaze locked on the battle. Even as a spectator, the murderous intent radiating from the fighters sent chills down his spine.

"I couldn't tell you," Rider replied casually. He gestured toward the battlefield. "But can you identify that black figure's attributes?"

"That black figure?" Waver squinted, trying to discern the shadowy Servant's identity, only to find the stats completely hidden.

"No… I can't see anything!"

"What?" Rider ruffled Waver's hair. "Come on, kid, you're my Master! You're supposed to be able to analyze Servants' attributes. Try harder."

"I can't—nothing's there!" Waver exclaimed, his face incredulous. "I can see Assassin's stats, but not his!"

"Must be Berserker, then," Waver guessed, observing Lancelot's frenzied state.

"Well, if you can't see, I won't force you," Rider said with a shrug. Then his expression turned eager. "Now, tell me, are you feeling better, my little Master?"

"I guess so," Waver answered hesitantly, still bewildered.

"Good," Rider boomed. "Hold on tight, kid! It's time for us to drive!"

Before Waver could protest, Rider's chariot roared forward, lightning crackling in its wake as the bulls charged toward the battlefield.

Assassin saw the incoming chariot and easily sidestepped its path. Compared to evading Archer's relentless barrage, dodging Rider's straightforward charge was trivial.

The chariot thundered across the battlefield, leaving the ruins further ravaged in its wake.

But Berserker didn't even flinch. His burning obsession locked onto Assassin, his blood-red eyes unyielding.

With a deafening crash, the bull's hooves slammed into Berserker, sending him staggering. The wheels of the chariot followed, rolling over his armored form with a sickening crunch.

Berserker trembled, then shifted into spirit form and vanished.

In that moment, Kariya Matou regained control of his Servant, issuing an immediate order to retreat.

"I am Iskandar, the King of Conquerors," Rider declared, extending his hand toward Assassin. "Join my army, Assassin. Together, we can share the glory of conquest."

"You shouldn't have helped me, Rider," Assassin said stubbornly. "I can win!"

"There's no need to push yourself…" Rider began, only for Assassin to interrupt.

"Berserker's movements have slowed. His strength is waning." She grinned wildly. "I can feel it—his mana is running dry!"

For Assassin, victory in the Holy Grail War was a distant dream. But the chance to slay even one Servant meant surviving to see the next war.

The opportunity slipping away had driven her to momentary madness, though she quickly regained her composure.

"Apologies. That fight left me a bit… unhinged," Assassin admitted, her voice steadying as she addressed Rider. "Thank you for your help. Truthfully, I was on the verge of losing."

Her body ached, the pain gnawing at her resolve, but clarity began to return.

"No need to apologize," Rider replied. "From your tone earlier, it sounded like you had a plan to defeat Berserker?"

"Yes," Assassin nodded. "If I can hold out a bit longer, I'll win."

"Are you sure you're up for it?" Rider asked, glancing at the blood trickling down her cheek. "You've already expended so much energy fighting Archer. Can you still fight Berserker at full strength?"

"Archer was strong," Assassin admitted.

"And tonight has worn you out," Rider said. "If you were in peak condition, I'm sure your strategy would work. But now… can you even last long enough to win?"

"I don't know," Assassin confessed. In truth, she wasn't sure how much longer she could fight. All she knew was that stalling Berserker would eventually work.

"Farewell, Rider," she said, turning to leave. "Perhaps one day we can be friends."

"Don't be so hasty, Assassin," Rider called out, stopping her.

To her surprise, he reached into his chariot and pulled out a large barrel of wine.

Where was he hiding that in this bumpy ride?!

"Walking away in your condition will only make you a target for others," Rider said, breaking the barrel's lid. The sweet aroma of red wine filled the air. "Why not rest for a while? Join me for a victory feast, and let's talk about dreams. I'm curious—what made you answer the Holy Grail's summons?"

"Dreams…" Assassin mused, raising her hand to gesture. "My wish is small, trivial even. Compared to the aspirations of other Heroic Spirits, mine is as insignificant as a feather drifting through the air."


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