This Is My Holy Grail War

"This wine tastes amazing!" Assassin praised enthusiastically.

The wine was the finest Rider had "conquered" from the market, its rich flavor invigorating her senses. Perhaps it was because of Artoria's body, but the subtle stimulation from the wine sent a pleasant warmth coursing through her.

Assassin wasn't certain—she'd never been a drinker before. Yet now, she found herself oddly enamored by the taste.

"The Holy Grail War is said to be a war, but it's really just a ceremony to select someone worthy of wielding the Grail, isn't it?" Rider mused. "If that's the case, why does it have to be resolved through violence?"

Assassin didn't reply, but Waver spoke up indignantly, as though it were obvious.

"Of course it does! How else are you supposed to claim the Grail if not through battle?" Waver's brows furrowed in confusion.

As much time as he'd spent with Rider, the thought processes of a magus were deeply ingrained in him.

"Not necessarily," Rider countered firmly. "Claiming the right to the Grail doesn't have to rely on force. We could simply reason with each other."

"You mean… like a debate? Convincing each other of our worthiness through words?" Assassin tilted her head, intrigued.

"Exactly! Assassin, you're as clever as you are talented," Rider exclaimed, giving her a hearty thumbs-up. "There's no need for unnecessary bloodshed. We're all legendary heroes here—why not settle things through dialogue and see who truly deserves the Grail?"

Waver shot Rider an irritated glance. When is he not being ridiculous?

Assassin, however, was unconvinced. What kind of fool would agree to such a notion?

"I am Iskandar, the King of Conquerors," Rider declared unabashedly. "I've taken form under the Rider class, and now, I'm gathering valiant warriors to join me in conquering the world. Assassin, are you interested?"

"I have no name," Assassin replied evenly. "I'm just an Assassin. Even though you've openly revealed your true name, I can't offer you mine."

"A nameless Servant?" Waver couldn't hide his disbelief. To him, the idea of a Servant without a true name seemed impossible.

"Assassins are shadowy killers," Rider explained. "Even if they leave behind a legend, they should remain nameless. The more famous an assassin, the more likely they were an impostor."

It was a logical explanation. Any assassin known by name had likely failed in their craft. A true killer worked in silence, their identity never revealed.

As they conversed, Assassin unconsciously emptied her goblet. She handed it back to Rider.

"Would you like another?" Rider asked.

"Yes," Assassin replied. "The wine is excellent."

As Rider poured her another goblet, he asked casually, "So, Assassin, what's your reason for seeking the Grail?"

"My wish is small," Assassin said after a pause. "I just want to live."

Rider leaned forward suddenly, scooping up a handful of dirt as if playing in the mud. From it, he plucked a struggling ant.

Surrounding them were ashes from burned pages, shattered stone, and broken wood. Yet, even in this desolation, life persisted, no matter how insignificant it seemed.

"Look around you, Assassin. What do you see?" Rider asked.

"Everything… is nearly destroyed," Assassin replied.

"Exactly," Rider said, holding up the ant for her to see. "No matter the circumstances, no matter how dire the situation or how deep the despair, life fights tooth and nail to survive."

"Life…" Assassin murmured, her gaze lingering on the ant.

"In my eyes, the desire to live is the purest and most universal wish," Rider continued. "Tell me, what do you think an ordinary person wishes for most?"

"It's—"

"To live!" Rider interrupted triumphantly. "Even if they don't say it aloud, every person holds the simple desire to survive."

Then, turning to Assassin, Rider added, "The will to live isn't a trivial wish at all!" He laughed heartily. "To be honest, my wish is the same—to live!"

"To live?!" Waver popped his head out of the chariot in surprise. "Rider, don't you want to conquer—"

Before he could finish, Rider flicked his forehead, albeit gently due to Waver's injuries.

"Hey! Ow, ow, ow!" Waver whined, clutching his reddened forehead and crouching back into the chariot.

"Idiot! Conquering the world is a goal!" Rider scolded. "It's not something I'd use the Grail to achieve! My wish is to use the Grail to rebuild my body. Isn't that essentially a wish to live again? Assassin, you keep saying your dream is light as a feather, but I believe it's heavy as a mountain!"

Rather than argue over who was more deserving of the Grail, Rider validated Assassin's wish through his words and actions.

All his gestures, grand and subtle, conveyed a singular truth: The desire to live is no small thing.

"Assassin," Rider said with a grin. "Our wishes don't conflict. We could both use the Grail to gain physical bodies. If we succeed and survive after the Grail War, would you consider joining my army?"

Assassin could tell he was entirely sincere.

"Fine," she agreed with a nod, though she added resolutely, "but the victory must be mine."

"You're set on winning?"

"Yes."

"You don't care about the wish?"

"Yes."

"You'd give the Grail away after winning?"

"Yes!"

"Hahaha! Ahahahaha!" Rider burst into boisterous laughter. "Denying your worth as a Heroic Spirit, yet doing something only a true hero would do! Your wish aligns with mine, yet you refuse to yield, pursuing victory for its own sake!"

"That kind of determination is what defines a hero! I look forward to the day we ride into battle together!"