Typemoon: Starting Out as the Lion King's Personal Knight

[Long Chapter]

Strictly speaking, it had only been a few days since Alaric last visited the Azrael Shrine to meet the Old Man of the Mountain, King Hassan. Yet, it felt as though years had passed, and this reunion carried the weight of a long separation. So much had happened in those few days, and Alaric himself had changed drastically compared to his first visit to the shrine.

The deep assimilation of the dragon's blood, his shifted mindset, and a profound understanding of death.

Most importantly, the Holy Grail was now in his possession.

The Holy Grail was one of the sources of distortion in this singularity. Alaric brought it before the Old Man of the Mountain. He wasn't even sure how to describe his actions.

After taking some time, Alaric made his second journey to the Azrael Shrine, nestled in a secluded mountain valley.

However, as he stepped back into the shrine's domain, a familiar chill crept over him.

The sweet embrace of death enveloped Alaric as if returning him to the ocean where life was first conceived.

Life and death are intertwined in an endless cycle.

Whoosh—!

A cold wind rose, and from the shrine emerged an enormous figure. Its pure white bones shimmered with a translucent, water-like substance.

"Every time I come here, there's a test, huh—"

Seeing the gigantic phantom, Alaric smiled and drew the Sword of End.

This time was different from before. Facing the phantom that had once been a formidable challenge, Alaric now felt only one emotion—

Ease.

As the Sword of End fell into his hand, Alaric's eyes gleamed like gemstones.

In this death-infused Azrael Shrine, Alaric activated the Mystic Eyes of Death Perception without hesitation.

As the death lines on the phantom's body became visible, Alaric strode forward boldly, charging at the massive spirit!

The battle began in an instant!

The phantom's claw-like hands stretched out, their reach spanning several meters, as if to crush Alaric in a single grasp. With a swing, the razor-sharp claws tore through the air, aiming to shred Alaric into pieces.

But Alaric's current speed was astonishing. Even without using his lightning-fast techniques, he crossed the short distance in less than two seconds.

The claw winds from the phantom were now trivial before him.

Clang!

The Sword of End sliced through the air, clashing with the phantom's claw winds head-on!

Without any enchantments or magic, the cold blade alone severed the winds entirely. The Sword of End continued unimpeded, striking the phantom directly.

Pierce—!

The blade sank into a death line, and the massive phantom disintegrated under Alaric's gaze.

For Alaric now, as long as he landed a single blow, victory was his.

The moment the phantom vanished, an even colder aura erupted from the shrine, engulfing Alaric like a tide. It felt as though he was submerged in the underworld, wrapped in death.

If it were the Alaric of yesterday, he would have been unsettled by this deathly aura. But now, he stared calmly into the depths of the shrine.

With his Mystic Eyes of Death Perception still active, Alaric saw a towering figure that seemed to embody death itself.

This was the purpose of his journey—

The Old Man of the Mountain, King Hassan!

"King Hassan, I have come to understand the meaning of the two trials: the comprehension of death and the significance of humanity's incineration—"

As the figure fully emerged from the shrine and stood before Alaric, it materialized completely.

Even without using his Mystic Eyes, Alaric could see the towering figure.

Alaric broke into a smile.

"Not only that, King Hassan, but I have also affirmed my resolve. I wish to save humanity's future.

Even if that future no longer includes me, at least I can prove that I contributed to its foundation."

Before the Old Man of the Mountain, Alaric felt a sense of reassurance unlike any he had experienced with Sanzang.

Perhaps it was the omnipresent death that brought such peace to his heart.

"..."

There was no immediate response. Beneath the skeletal mask of King Hassan, faint flames flickered in his eye sockets, and Alaric could feel a chilling gaze fixed on him.

Seeing that the Old Man of the Mountain remained silent, Alaric stopped speaking and simply waited.

Minutes later, a deep, familiar voice finally rumbled, "To have experienced death twice, yet still harbor hope for life and love for humanity—

You carry the blood of the red dragon, unafraid to fall into a beastly abyss; even willing to break ties with your sworn king for this resolve.

Impressive. Your ambition surprises even me. You are truly a greedy young man!"

"This is likely why you bear the ties of the mountain—"

King Hassan's low voice revealed no discernible emotion, but his words seemed to carry a hint of approval.

"The Holy Grail—"

Alaric seemed to recall something, raising his hand with a faint gesture.

A gentle ripple twisted the air, and a golden cup appeared in his palm, shown for others to see.

"King Hassan, do you think there's something wrong with this thing?"

Alaric had initially thought of the Holy Grail as a mere chunk of magical energy, a counterfeit wish-granting device.

However, after Sanzang pointed out that his body's composition had become more complex, Alaric began to suspect something deeper about the Grail.

The Lion King wouldn't elaborate on the Grail, and Alaric lacked the means to investigate further. Besides Pharaoh Ozymandias, the only other person who might have answers was the Old Man of the Mountain.

"The Grail of the Magus King, hmm? The Grail is the foundation of his great work and a gateway to the Demon Pillars—"

King Hassan's black robes billowed as his deep voice echoed in Alaric's mind.

"The Demon Pillars..."

Alaric glanced at the golden Grail in his hand. If it served as a passage to the Demon Pillars, it made sense that they needed the Grail to manifest in the singularity.

Almost instinctively, Alaric activated his Mystic Eyes of Death Perception.

As the gemstone-like light spread, the death lines of the Golden Grail became visible on its surface.

Sparse and fragmented death lines divided the Grail.

"Then, King Hassan, what will happen if I continue to use the Grail?"

Finding no abnormalities, Alaric looked away and asked.

Even if there was an issue with the Grail, Alaric intended to keep using it. The benefits it brought were too significant, and he wasn't ready to give it up.

"When you sever the connection between the Grail and the Magus King, you may use it freely."

King Hassan's words clarified the problem with the Grail, though it was not something Alaric could resolve now.

Currently, ALaric's Mystic Eyes couldn't perceive the death of the Grail's connection to the Magus King. This would have to wait until his abilities advanced.

After receiving the Old Man of the Mountain's response, Alaric put the Grail issue aside and returned it to his body.

"You seem troubled, which is normal. The Magus King is no ordinary man. The legacy he created is unparalleled, and his capabilities are extraordinary."

King Hassan's deep voice revealed a hint of arcane truth to Alaric.

However, Alaric didn't fully grasp it immediately—or perhaps his mind wasn't focused on the Magus King at the moment.

"King Hassan, what exactly is this 'Mountain's Connection' you speak of?"

This wasn't the first time Alaric had heard King Hassan mention the Mountain's Connection. The Lion King refused to explain, simply calling it the ties to a distant magical realm.

But what was this distant magical realm? How distant was it?

Alaric was utterly puzzled and frustrated.

"The answer lies within you. Wherever the connection is, it must be something you already know, though you've ignored it.

If you cannot recall it, the time simply has not yet come."

The soul flames in King Hassan's eyes flickered as if gazing through Alaric into an unseen world.

The so-called distant magical realm.

Hearing King Hassan speak in riddles, Alaric instinctively clenched his teeth.

Saying half of a matter like this is worse than saying nothing at all.

King Hassan acted like a riddler, and Alaric had no choice but to give up on that question and instead asked—

"Oh, King Hassan—"

After addressing most of his questions, though many were left unanswered, Alaric took a deep breath and asked his final question:

"Can I now learn assassination techniques from you?"

This was both his initial and ultimate goal.

The questions Alaric had posed to King Hassan were secondary. If answered, it would be great; if not, it didn't matter.

What Alaric truly desired was always an enhancement of the Mystic Eyes of Death Perception.

"You are not a Hassan by nature and should not learn these assassination techniques. But considering the fate of the mountain and your potential, you may train under me for a time—"

King Hassan spoke after a brief moment of silence.

Seeing that King Hassan had agreed to his request, Alaric suppressed his smile and solemnly replied, "Thank you very much!!"

In their subsequent conversation, Alaric and King Hassan confirmed the training in assassination techniques and the so-called comprehension of death—

A month-long intensive training was the greatest assistance King Hassan could provide to Alaric.

This instantly filled Alaric's schedule with purpose.

"I am very grateful for your answers—"

Watching King Hassan disappear into the distance, Alaric smiled and said,

"Then, farewell, King Hassan. I will visit you again—"

...

In the vast wilderness, a pure white city stood. Surrounding it was an endless expanse.

A crimson bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, cutting through the wilderness at an astonishing speed, heading straight for the white city—Camelot!

Its speed was so great that it stirred violent waves across the land!

The pure white shockwaves formed an almost ocean-like expanse, and the concentric mach rings fractured the ground beneath!

This grand and imposing scene naturally caught the attention of the Knights of the Round Table gathered at Camelot.

Though the thunderous sound had yet to reach them, Gawain and the others had already sensed the terrifying magic surging toward them.

The overwhelming power of the magic was both unabashedly mighty and malevolent.

"That is—"

Gawain's expression turned to surprise. If he wasn't mistaken, it was Sir Alaric?

"Wow, that guy sure knows how to make an entrance!"

Mordred tiptoed and squinted at the crimson streak on the horizon.

The snow-white waves of energy rolled forward like towering walls, advancing unstoppably toward Camelot!

In a few seconds Mordred and the others observed the crimson streak—

It came to a halt a hundred meters outside Camelot. As the crimson lightning stopped, the pure white walls of energy collapsed behind it, and raging winds howled toward the city!

The violent gusts swept through, almost overturning the refugee camps outside Camelot's gates!

Amidst the tempest, a figure appeared at the gates of Camelot.

Shrouded in white mist, arcs of crimson lightning intertwined with dark radiance coursed over their body.

Standing there, the figure's mere presence raised the ambient temperature by several dozen degrees!

"You sure know how to make a scene!"

Mordred frowned in irritation, brushing sand off her face as she glared at the figure.

It was none other than Alaric, who had just bid farewell to King Hassan in the nameless mountains and rushed all the way to Camelot!

"Sir Alaric, your entrance was… truly unique," Lancelot remarked with curiosity.

With his keen vision, he could tell how fast Alaric must have been moving to cause such a commotion.

Even many Phantasmal Species couldn't match such a speed!

Moreover, Lancelot deduced that Alaric must have maintained this incredible pace from the mountains all the way to Camelot—a feat of extraordinary stamina.

Looking at the devastated refugee camp, Alaric uncharacteristically showed a hint of embarrassment.

"Seems I wasn't late—"

To catch up with Gawain and the others, Alaric had pushed himself to the limit, pouring all his energy into the Thunder Flash technique to race toward Camelot.

Anything in his path was simply obliterated!

The rocks and trees he had demolished along the way could pile into a small mountain.

Alaric's efforts had paid off.

Just as Gawain and the others were about to enter Camelot, he successfully rejoined them.

"You're not late. Let us proceed to meet the King," Gawain said with a smile.

After reuniting, Gawain's group wasted no time and headed straight for the Tower at the Center.

Before long, they stood before the throne room.

The heavy doors slowly opened—

Gawain, who entered first, immediately noticed the Lion King seated on the throne. He bowed his head and refrained from meeting the King's gaze.

Seeing the Round Table return intact, Agravain spoke up:

"Gawain, has the rebellion led by the Lionheart King been quelled?"

Seeing no casualties among them, Agravain naturally focused on the task at hand.

This was a mission that could not fail. Any threat to the Lion King's grand plan must be eradicated.

Especially since the entire Round Table had been dispatched. If they couldn't complete such a mission, what purpose did they serve?

"My King, the rebellion has been quelled, and the Lionheart King was slain by Sir Alaric in a single strike. He is completely dead," Gawain reported calmly as if recounting a routine event.

"That Lionheart King dared to use Father's Excalibur as a Noble Phantasm—utterly infuriating!"

Mordred grumbled, clenching her teeth as if discussing a mortal enemy.

"A King's holy sword? Sir Lancelot, is this true?"

Even Agravain raised an eyebrow at this, turning to the silent Lancelot for confirmation.

"It is true. The Lionheart King possessed the ability to transform any object into a holy sword and unleash it. This appears to be the effect of his Noble Phantasm," Lancelot confirmed.

"The brilliance of the holy sword, now wielded by an enemy… how utterly tragic," Tristan sighed, shaking his head as if moved to tears.

Seated upon the throne, the Lion King finally spoke coldly, her gaze falling upon Alaric.

Her chilling voice carried immense authority:

"This is not a matter you can refuse."

The oppressive aura of divinity filled the air as golden light gleamed in her eyes, and the power of the Storm Goddess erupted, unveiling the true face of the world.

As if a ferocious wave roared from the world's end, it engulfed Alaric and the others!

A storm of absolute light roared past their sides, separating them from one another.

Clack, clack.

The crisp sound of footsteps echoed at the world's end, resounding like thunder in their ears.

Alaric looked up.

It was none other than the Storm Goddess Lantoria descending from her jade throne. Her golden hair moved without wind, gently brushing against her flawless cheeks.

Her emotionless eyes glimmered with a golden light—the very proof of divinity!

In the instant Alaric instinctively raised his head, their gazes collided.

The divine aura radiating from the Storm Goddess caused the dragon blood within Alaric to stir wildly.

An unusual emotion mixed with longing rose from his dragon heart.

Desire, joy, yearning, possession...

Countless feelings, each akin to primal sin, churned within Alaric, as though intent on crushing his reason entirely.

In those few moments of stunned silence, the towering figure of the goddess stood before him.

The air was filled with a scent unlike the sandalwood of Sanzang—it was an aroma akin to the world itself.

Alaric remained expressionless, meeting the gaze of Lantoria calmly.

"Sir Alaric, are you dead?"

The goddess looked at Alaric—or rather, at every inch of his skin and blood.

"Near death. Barely survived," Alaric replied without concealment, recounting the events of his battle with the Lionheart.

After hearing his account, the Storm Goddess's expression remained unchanged, as if the Lionheart's defeat was insignificant.

It was then that Alaric seemed to realize what truly concerned her.

It was the question she had posed at the start—

"How did you do it?"

At the Lion King's faint words, alarms blared in Alaric's mind, a chill surging up his spine.

A vision of the future flashed before him!

Thud—!

At a terrifyingly close distance, the Lion King reached out and pierced Alaric's chest with ease, gripping his critical dragon heart!

It was a strike Alaric could not defend against. Even his intuition failed to react in time.

Scarlet blood splattered at the world's end, devoured instantly by the surging light.

"!!"

Without hesitation, Alaric instinctively grabbed the Lion King's arm, still lodged in his chest!

Even though divine energy coiled around her arm, causing unbearable pain upon contact, it was nothing compared to the agony of his pierced chest.

As long as the Holy Grail remained within him, Alaric frantically extracted its magic power to sustain his life. Yet, if the Lion King exerted even the slightest pressure, breaking his dragon heart and disrupting his magic supply—

He would die instantly!

This senseless death was something Alaric absolutely could not accept!!

"Urgh—My King, what… what is the meaning of this?"

Gritting his teeth, LAlaric struggled to suppress the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth.

A stream of crimson trickled from the corner of his lips, dripping onto the Lion King's arm before evaporating instantly.

There was no answer.

Unlike Alaric's desperate struggle for survival, the Lion King remained calm, her grip as casual as if holding a housecat by the scruff of its neck.

As if it didn't matter whether Alaric lived or died.

Thud—!

After what felt like an eternity, the Lion King withdrew her hand.

Fortunately, she didn't take the dragon heart with her, sparing Alaric from immediate death.

Thump!

As soon as the Lion King released him, Alaric collapsed to the ground, disregarding appearances and etiquette. He focused solely on using the Holy Grail's magic to heal the gaping wound in his chest.

The Lion King, meanwhile, silently watched as Alaric mobilized his dragon blood to mend his injuries. The golden light in her eyes gradually faded.

"Sir Alaric, your dragon blood has reached an impressive level of maturity and has begun to incubate]=. I look forward to the day you ascend—don't disappoint me."

At this moment, Alaric could no longer hear the Lion King's words. His surging adrenaline heightened his senses, and the Mystic Eyes of Death Perception activated unconsciously.

All forms of death surged into his mind, overwhelming him.

The accelerated activity of his dragon blood altered his mental structure, allowing the non-human aspects to take precedence naturally.

And as they took over—

Alaric's inner desire for the Lion King surged uncontrollably.

This emotion, incomprehensible and unacceptable to him, left him powerless. His body overtook his mind, leaving him no choice but to let it fester and grow.

"Grk—!"

Alaric clenched his teeth, clutching his chest tightly as if fearing his heart would fall out.

When the light wave receded, Gawain and the other Knights of the Round Table saw the Lion King standing before Alaric.

Alaric's pitiful state—with a still-healing chest wound—spoke volumes about what had transpired.

The Lion King's cold words filled the hall:

"If there's nothing else, leave now. Bring every worthy soul from this land to the Holy City. I shall seal this world."

Having vanquished the initial enemy, the Lion King, with her ancient Knights of the Round, embarked on the grand plan of Holy Selection.

A brutal purification of the land began, marking the emergence of differences among souls.

...

After several sunsets, new visitors arrived—

In the endless sandstorm of Ozymandias's domain.

From the void came a radiant light, gradually forming three human figures and a pure white beast.

As they appeared amidst the vast desert, a furious sandstorm engulfed them instantly.

The orange-haired girl stumbled, falling to the ground.

"What is this place, Mash?" she muttered, brushing the sand from her head.

"This can't possibly be Jerusalem! It's nothing but sandstorms everywhere!"

A beautiful woman holding a staff shouted in disbelief while preparing a spell to block the storm.

Nearby, a lilac-haired girl clad in light armor carried a massive cross-shaped shield nearly two meters tall. She shouted through the storm:

"Senpai! Da Vinci! Let's find some cover—another gust is coming!"

The group sought shelter beneath a giant skull, possibly from a dragon, marking the beginning of their journey.

PS: Finally my beloved eggplant makes her first appearance!