This Is My Holy Grail War

Assassin could feel the immense reach of Lancer's crimson spear, [Gáe Dearg]. Even veiled by its protective runes, its aura stung her senses like a needle prick to her skin.

The weapon's length alone posed a challenge—far greater than the reach of Saber's holy sword. She knew that with one wrong step, the fight would be over in an instant.

What should I do?

Assassin was no fool. Aggravating Lancer was a surefire way to get herself impaled. Her best option was to defuse the tension, lower his aggression, and avoid a duel altogether.

"It was thoughtless of me," Assassin said, bowing her head slightly. "I shouldn't have questioned the honor of a knight."

Lancer isn't my enemy. Neither is Saber, she reminded herself. They're enemies of Kirei and Tohsaka, not mine.

To Assassin, anyone she couldn't kill wasn't a true enemy. Anyone she couldn't defeat was, at best, a potential ally. Even now, she entertained the idea of making "friends" with Archer and Rider.

"Your sincerity is evident," Lancer said as he lowered his spear, though her words seemed to weigh heavily on him.

He took a step back, but the thought of innocents being slaughtered still clouded his expression.

Lancer would never condone such heinous acts, but his loyalty to his Master bound his hands. He couldn't act without Kenneth's permission, even if his chivalry urged him otherwise.

"I trust your words, Lancer," Assassin said. Her voice carried a calm sincerity.

In truth, Assassin didn't believe she could defeat him. Lancer was a master of close-quarters combat, and his agility was unmatched. While her own abilities were formidable, she had no illusions—Lancer's skill far exceeded her own.

I can't kill him, she thought grimly. If I can't defeat him, then I need to ensure we part amicably. He's too dangerous to make an enemy of.

"Meeting a knight like you is a rare honor," Lancer said warmly, a genuine smile crossing his face. "Your deeds and conduct precede you, Assassin. My Master spoke of you as a paragon among us."

"I'm far from a paragon," Assassin replied, her cheeks faintly flushing. "There's much I lack, especially compared to someone like you."

"Well, Assassin," Lancer said, his tone suddenly more formal. "Are you planning to leave just like that?"

Assassin hesitated. She knew where this was going.

"If you're set on leaving," Lancer continued, "it feels like you're disrespecting my honor. I've laid down the gauntlet, and by your presence, you've already accepted my challenge!"

Assassin sighed deeply.

"I'm searching for the Servant responsible for those atrocities, Lancer," she explained, her tone measured. "That Servant isn't you. I have no time to waste on unnecessary conflict."

"Escaping from a challenge isn't fitting for a knight!" Lancer exclaimed, his enthusiasm undiminished. "The stage is set, and I'm eager to cross blades with you. Show me your sword, Assassin!"

"I still have unfinished business with Saber," she countered, shaking her head. "I must decline."

"Saber again?" Lancer's expression darkened slightly. The mention of the King of Knights seemed to prick at his pride. "Are you saying only Saber is worthy of your sword? Am I not enough?"

Assassin sighed again, this time with a touch of exasperation.

"If you insist, then I'll oblige," she said at last. I don't really have a choice, do I?

"Now that's more like it!" Lancer said, his excitement evident.

"But let's agree—this is just a sparring match, not a fight to the death," she added pointedly.

"Of course!" Lancer grinned, eager to begin.

He's just itching for a fight… Assassin thought, exasperated. He's going to kill me with enthusiasm at this rate.

Lancer stepped back, his crimson spear glinting faintly under the dim evening light. He brushed his hand along its shaft, settling into a ready stance.

Assassin closed her eyes briefly, exhaling deeply to steady her nerves.

Lancer's spear had far more reach than Saber's sword, meaning she would struggle to close the distance. Unlike Saber, however, Lancer had no armor. If she could get close, a single strike could wound him.

But then she noticed the second spear in his other hand—a golden one. [Gáe Buidhe: Yellow Rose of Mortality.]

It bore a curse that made any wounds it inflicted impossible to heal by normal means. Like [Gáe Dearg], its true power was hidden beneath sealing runes.

That golden spear won't touch me, Assassin reassured herself. She trusted the combination of her [Instinct] and [Mind's Eye (Fake)]. However, she knew it would limit her movement, forcing her into a predictable range.

Before every battle, Assassin had developed the habit of analyzing her opponent's strengths and weaknesses. Her experiences with Saber, Archer, and Berserker had taught her to survive against overwhelming odds.

Surprisingly, she didn't feel afraid this time. Confidence was starting to replace the dread that once paralyzed her. Though she couldn't claim any decisive victories, she had faced powerful foes and lived.

"I'm coming!" Lancer shouted.

His crimson spear thrust forward, aimed straight for her forehead.

Fast. Too fast.

Though he called it a sparring match, Lancer's strike carried deadly intent. His precision and speed left no room for error.

The narrow alley provided little space to maneuver. It wasn't tight enough to restrict Lancer's spearwork but offered no room for Assassin to evade.

This wasn't the crushing momentum of Saber's overwhelming strikes. Lancer's attack was precise, sharp, and deadly—like an arrow loosed from a bowstring.

Fast. Direct. Relentless.

Before Lancer moved, her [Instinct] had already painted the scenario in her mind.

How do I dodge this?

Assassin's first thought was to evade. Direct confrontation was never her strategy. Yet her [Mind's Eye (Fake)] warned her: there was no escape.

Lancer's choice of terrain had boxed her in. Every scenario she envisioned ended the same way—with her body impaled by that crimson spear.

Cold sweat trickled down Assassin's back. Time seemed to slow as she saw the spear's deadly tip drawing ever closer.

Countless images raced through Assassin's mind, each one offering a glimpse of her impending doom. Yet, in that moment, she made a choice that defied fear and logic: instead of retreating, she surged forward, sword poised to meet the incoming attack.

If I can't avoid it, then I'll block it!

Her [Mind's Eye (Fake)] gave her the answer—it was possible.

To embrace life, one must first confront death. Forward, never backward!

"I'm attacking now!" Lancer called out, his voice sharp and resonant, as he lunged with blinding speed.

The crimson spear of [Gáe Dearg] shot toward Assassin like a comet. Instead of sidestepping, she raised her sword and brought it crashing down on the spear's tip with all her strength.

It wasn't a parry, nor an attempt to deflect the force. It was a deliberate strike, timed to disrupt Lancer's charging momentum at its peak.

Lancer's full-speed charge, while nearly impossible to dodge due to its speed and the narrow alley, had its limitations. The very same momentum that made his thrust unstoppable also prevented him from adjusting his stance mid-attack.

Assassin's [Instinct] had foreseen the exact trajectory of the thrust, and her [Mind's Eye (Fake)] had calculated the timing.

The moment sword met spear, the clash of metal erupted in a thunderous clang.

"Clang—!"

The impact sent a jolt through Assassin's arms. The force of Lancer's strike shattered her grip, and blood trickled from her palm as her skin tore from the sheer strain.

It hurts! The pain screamed through her body, but there was no time for weakness.

Lancer wasted no time; as soon as his red spear was diverted, his golden [Gáe Buidhe] swung in a wide arc. Assassin's body reacted instinctively, twisting into an acrobatic backflip to evade the cursed spear.

Even while evading, her sword lashed out mid-air.

The best defense is a counterattack!

It was Assassin's first time striking while airborne, but under the guidance of her [Mind's Eye (Fake)], her movements were fluid and precise. Her blade found its mark, grazing Lancer's side in a shallow cut.

The wound was insignificant—barely more than a scratch. Yet Assassin's trembling right hand, slick with blood, reminded her that she was fighting on the edge of her limits.

When the first exchange ended, Assassin had paid dearly, while Lancer bore only the faintest injury.

He's not holding back, Assassin realized.

Lancer's strike had carried all the weight and precision of a battlefield duel, despite his earlier assurances that this was only a sparring match.

Assassin closed the gap, staying close to Lancer to deny him the space needed for another devastating charge. She couldn't afford to endure such an attack again—her body wouldn't last a second time.

Lancer's unyielding pressure made him more dangerous than Saber, but Assassin found him less intimidating. Without Saber's [Mana Burst] or the wide destructive power of [Invisible Air], Lancer's focus on precision and speed was something she could contend with.

"You can transform into other Servants and wield their skills," Lancer said between attacks, his voice laced with curiosity. "Yet, you carry yourself like a knight. Who are you, truly? What legend do you hail from?"

His red spear twirled, and Lancer's movements were as fluid as flowing water, giving him room to speak and fight simultaneously.

Assassin, surprisingly, smiled. It wasn't the shy expression she had worn before but one of exhilaration. For the first time, she felt alive on the battlefield.

"I'm no hero!" she called back, her voice resolute. "Just a Servant, nothing more!"

She's a knight and a warrior, Lancer thought. That much is clear.

Their movements intertwined in a deadly dance, the clash of sword and spear reverberating through the narrow alley.

Lancer's strength far outmatched Assassin's. His blows carried a weight that should have overwhelmed her, but her [Instinct] and [Mind's Eye (Fake)] worked in tandem, allowing her to anticipate and evade.

It was as if her mind saw the battlefield as a puzzle, and her instincts provided the solutions.

Even so, every attempt at an offensive move ended in failure. Lancer's mastery of his spears made him untouchable. But when it came to defense, Assassin's reflexes allowed her to parry and block with precision that frustrated even the seasoned knight.

She lacked the skill to press an advantage, but when defending, she could almost suppress Lancer's attacks entirely.

"You've been investigating for some time now," Lancer said, stepping back to create space between them. "Have you uncovered anything?"

The question startled Assassin. She hadn't expected the fight to halt so suddenly.

"Yes," she admitted after a moment's pause. "From everything I've seen, the only one who could be responsible is… Caster."

Lancer's expression darkened. "I wish I could join you in bringing Caster to justice, but for now, my hands are tied." His voice carried genuine regret, though he resumed his stance, ready for the next exchange.

As they clashed once more, Assassin found herself learning. Each step, each strike, was a lesson. Her [Instinct] gave her foresight like a book of strategies, while her [Mind's Eye (Fake)] was the instructor guiding her through the motions.

With every movement, Assassin felt herself improving. At first, her reliance on her [Mind's Eye (Fake)] was absolute, but as the battle progressed, she began to rely on her own judgment.

By the time they crossed a hundred blows, her instincts and skill felt sharper.

Lancer, too, had grown impressed. He could see her growth unfolding before his eyes—a novice transforming into a warrior with every exchange.

Both fighters bore only minor wounds: a shallow cut on Lancer's side, and Assassin's bloodied, trembling hand. Their battle had been relentless, but no victor emerged.

"You're worthy of the legends," Lancer said at last, his tone respectful. "But without using our Noble Phantasms, it seems this fight will never end."

Assassin nodded, lowering her blade. "Then let's stop here. I've gained enough from this."

As Assassin turned to leave, confident in her progress and the information she had gathered, Lancer suddenly froze. His Master, Kenneth, had issued a surprising command.

Lancer's smile widened. It seems my Master is far more noble than others give him credit for.

The smile was from the bottom of his heart. With a lord like him, he would have no regrets even if he died in this Holy Grail War!

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T/N: this shits crazyyyy Lancer having respect for Kayneth? wild