This Is My Holy Grail War [187]

The leyline to the left was just as she had expected. Her last survey had been three years ago, but geological changes were slow—three years was nothing more than a blink of an eye to the earth.

Wei Yang withdrew the compass in her hand and drove a steel lance forcefully into the ground. The ceremonial spear was anchored at a minor leyline nexus—one of many along the path where the road split. To ensure the smooth flow of mana, she still had much more work to do.

Some locations weren’t exactly easy for a young woman to access, but for the sake of the barrier’s activation, she went anyway.

Hiss…

The temperature of the steel lance gradually rose, white steam curling from its surface. Wei Yang channeled mana into the ground, marking the location before pulling the spear free.

The once dull red steel now glowed like a heated brand, clearing the blocked nexus point. She wiped the sweat from her forehead, exhaustion creeping in.

The winter sun was cold, its rays offering no warmth—only a biting chill. Yet, in the midst of the freezing Arctic wind, Wei Yang’s sweat continued to fall from exertion.

Her clothing today was a bit too thin, not enough to ward off the cold. But the intense physical effort made her feel almost overheated.

Still, it wasn’t nearly enough.

Blanché was a small city, but mapping it on foot was still an overwhelming task. By midday, she had only completed a third of her work. Yet, stubborn as ever, Wei Yang pressed on, making her way to the next nexus.

"Are you afraid of them?"

Archer’s voice still echoed in her mind. It was the Emperor’s greatest doubt about her. At the time, Wei Yang had answered with firm resolve, willing to fight alongside her sovereign on the battlefield.

Yet, she kept questioning herself—Was she truly worthy?

On the bustling streets, no one paid her any attention. Wei Yang walked alone, a mere passerby in this world.

Ten years had passed, yet the sun over Blanché remained just as cold. The people remained just as mundane.

Their conversations revolved around trivial matters of daily life, with little care for anything greater.

People without ambition, nothing more than lifeless fish. That was how Wei Yang saw them.

And yet, as she walked past, she always heard their laughter and cheer. She, on the other hand, with her rigid self-discipline, could scarcely recall the last time she had smiled.

A decade of preparation, years of relentless training—and in the very first battle of the Holy Grail War, she had been pierced through the body by a single shot.

All her pride, crushed by modern weaponry.

She had never imagined that her debut in the Holy Grail War would end in such humiliation. Forced into a desperate retreat, too ashamed to even face her father. Worse still, the enemy had pursued her all the way home. The explosion had nearly obliterated her.

What an utter disgrace.

She burned with anger, with the desire for revenge—but beneath it all, fear lurked.

An unshakable, nameless fear.

Because of it, Wei Yang had been reluctant to speak too much to Archer. She feared Archer’s reproach. Like a kitten that had made a mistake, she curled up in a corner, not daring to act out.

But when Wei Yang was finally forced to face Archer, His Majesty had not been angry.

Instead, the Emperor had comforted her.

Since childhood, Wei Yang had never truly smiled. Every emotion had been suppressed, every moment of her life planned out for her. She had been trained in magecraft from a young age, forced to adapt to the harsh conditions of the Far East.

Her father had been cold and indifferent, caring only about results. He had never shown her affection. There had been times she even doubted whether she was truly his daughter.

But in her mind, this was simply how things were in a magus family—rigorous training from childhood was the norm. She had endured it.

And so, all her efforts became her pride. Her exceptional talent and relentless discipline made her confident, molding her into someone outwardly cold and detached.

Then, she met Archer.

For the first time, Wei Yang encountered someone she could speak to as an equal—someone she even had to look up to.

Even her father had never held such authority in her heart.

Archer’s regal and imposing presence left her in awe.

She wasn’t sure how to describe her feelings toward Archer. She couldn’t quite put it into words.

But she knew this—she liked being by Archer’s side.

Whenever they were together, she felt at ease, as if she could talk endlessly.

More than anything, she wanted to prove herself, to demonstrate the skills she had honed for so many years—to earn Archer’s recognition.

Instead, she had made a mess of things, leaving a poor first impression.

And yet… Archer had not blamed her. He had not cast her aside.

Instead, he had shown her kindness. He had even praised her.

Called her brave, resilient—even suggested that she was fit to be his consort.

But did she truly deserve that?

Wei Yang hesitated, doubting herself, feeling unworthy.

Beneath her cold exterior, unease gnawed at her heart.

A little praise, a little sympathy—such simple kindness had left an indelible mark on her soul.

And now, there was only one thing she needed to do.

She would pave the road to victory for Archer.

"Would you like some noodles, miss?"

"Hm?"

A deep, gruff voice pulled her out of her thoughts as she turned her head.

Wei Yang saw Caster driving a strange-looking carriage, selling steaming hot noodles right in the middle of the street.

"What are you doing, Caster?" Wei Yang was completely baffled. A powerful magus from the Age of Gods—selling noodles? And not even some elaborate magical dish, just plain, ordinary noodles.

This wasn’t some passing whim. The unwashed plates stacked into a small mountain beside him suggested that Caster had been here all morning, selling breakfast. And now, just as he was closing up shop, their paths happened to cross.

"Shouldn't I be the one asking you that, Master of Archer?"

Caster wasn’t wearing a hat, his thick eyebrows furrowed in a sharp, imposing expression. He looked strikingly competent, exuding a commanding presence.

"I'm just surveying the leylines." Wei Yang kept her voice steady, though she felt slightly uneasy. But outwardly, she remained composed. She had already taken defensive measures before heading out.

"I'm a magus."

The back of her hand began to glow faintly, the red markings of the Command Seals flickering with light.

"That’s not all, is it?"

Caster turned his head slightly, his gaze shifting toward a distant streetlamp. He made a small gesture.

Saber is here too?

Wei Yang only noticed her presence at that moment.

Not bad. Despite being a swordswoman, Saber had some impressive concealment techniques—she clearly knew how to suppress her presence and minimize her mana signature. Without Caster’s hint, Wei Yang might not have noticed her at all.

"Me?"

A faint purple mist suddenly spread through the air. Within moments, it coalesced into a swarm of butterflies, and then—

With no regard for discretion, Saber descended from the sky in her mage’s robes, landing directly in the middle of the crowded street.

"I don’t care."

She sounded completely indifferent. But Wei Yang wasn’t convinced.

That strange swordswoman did, indeed, carry a longsword, its luxurious scabbard concealing the blade’s simple elegance. But despite being a Saber-class Servant, she wore the flowing robes of a magus.

Her hooded face remained obscured, save for the eerie, unreadable smile peeking from beneath it.

Saber stood there, poised and elegant, yet no one on the bustling street seemed to notice her. Every pedestrian who brushed past her ignored her entirely, as if she didn’t exist in their world at all.

"I'm more interested in you."

But Saber didn’t even look at Wei Yang. Instead, her attention was entirely fixed on Caster—just like a chess piece moving past another to strike at its true target.

"You don’t see it?" Caster replied to himself, sighing. "I do."

He shook his head, as if amused.

"I’ve been running this stall all day, and this girl hasn’t been idle for a second either."

"You tell me—if a prodigiously talented magus spends an entire day preparing something, would it really be something simple?"

"Whether it is or isn’t—" Saber remained unbothered. Having high [Magic Resistance] made all the difference.

"—It doesn’t concern me. Whatever she’s up to, it won’t hurt me."

If this were nighttime, they’d already be fighting.

The thought crossed Wei Yang’s mind, but she felt no fear. Even with two powerful Servants hemming her in, she remained unfazed.

Her heartbeat was steady. Her mind was clear.

This was courage—the kind of strength that didn’t waver, even when facing death.

A dangerous smile crept onto her lips.

"Tell me, what do you two think of Archer?"

She was bold—fearless, even—daring to question two Servants with complete confidence.

Saber answered first.

"Strong."

Caster followed.

"Overbearing."

Strength and dominance.

That was their evaluation.

Wei Yang understood—none of the Servants in this war were Archer’s equal.

‘Your Majesty, what do you think of this Holy Grail War?’ Wei Yang used their shared link to communicate. ‘How would you evaluate the Heroic Spirits participating?’

"Rebels, all of them—nothing more."

Was it anger?

No.

Wei Yang knew—it was confidence.

Archer was, without a doubt, the most powerful Servant in this war. He possessed an invincible might. Even if all the others joined forces, as long as he had enough mana, he would still emerge victorious.

"Mana… Mana…" Wei Yang murmured.

Where, in this city, was the easiest source of mana to obtain?

Not the leylines.

Not even the Holy Grail.

It was the people living here.

Individually, humans didn’t hold much mana. But the sheer number of them…

And unlike leylines or the Holy Grail, the life force of a person was simple to extract.

Wei Yang had found her answer.

She knew Archer would never allow it.

But she would bear this sin willingly.

She had asked him before—What happens when a loyal servant commits a crime?

Archer’s reply had been clear—"Merit is merit. Sin is sin."

As long as it benefited Archer, that was enough.

As for the crime—she alone would bear it.

Because Wei Yang knew—even if she died, Archer would not lose his Master.

The [Command Seals] were on her, yes. But she was not Archer’s sole source of mana.

Her father’s contract took precedence over hers.

If she died, Archer would not be weakened.

"Your Majesty, there is no longer any need to hide. No one will care about secrecy after today. Day is a battlefield. Night is a battlefield. No difference, every day the same."

Wei Yang closed her eyes—and activated the barrier.

A vortex of darkness spiraled into existence above the city.

Her target had never been the Servants.

It was the people of this city.

And with that, there was no need to condense the mana in one place.

One by one, the pedestrians collapsed.

They convulsed, foaming at the mouth. Their lives were drained in an instant.

That stolen mana—Wei Yang transferred all of it directly to Archer.

This was no ordinary spell.

This was a sacrificial ritual.

A grand magecraft, prepared over ten years, turned into an offering of blood.

She had originally planned to sacrifice the entire city.

But Caster’s interference forced her to settle for only most of it.

That would be enough.

Enough to grant Archer overwhelming mana.

The river of swords was tainted.

The black vortex in the sky grew darker, deeper.

Caster glared at her in fury, but before he could act—

She collapsed.

Her body stopped obeying her will.

Her life was slipping away.

This was an indiscriminate sacrifice. She had been included from the start.

That was why it had activated so quickly.

Because Wei Yang had never planned to walk away from this.

Her energy drained, her body convulsed—it was like having a needle driven into her bones, marrow siphoned away.

Agonizing. Suffocating.

Yet she did not make a sound.

She lifted her head with unwavering resolve.

She was a powerful magus. She could have resisted the ritual.

But she chose not to.

"What have you done?!"

Archer had appeared.

Faced with his wrath, Wei Yang only smiled.

She forced her trembling body upright.

The voices of those around her faded into nothing.

She no longer cared about their judgment.

All that mattered—was saying this one final thing.

"I offer my life… for Your Majesty to rule the world!"

Archer reached out to her.

But she did not take his hand.

Instead, she stumbled back.

"Forgive me. A sinner like me… must not taint Your Majesty’s glory."

And then, Wei Yang was gone.

She dissolved into a pool of blood.

In her final act, she used all three of her remaining [Command Seals]—ordering Archer to forget her name.

She was a key.

A key that had opened the gates of Hell.

And she had walked into it, willingly, for his recognition.

Wei Yang did not fear death.

All it would have taken was a single glance, a nod from Archer—

And she would have gladly given him everything.

A decade of suppression—

Had finally driven her to madness.

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T/N:... wow how the FUCK are we supposed to beat a juiced up Qin Shi Huang (btw cliffhanger since frig you)

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!