Typemoon: Starting Out as the Lion King's Personal Knight [402] (Patreon)

The wind howled.

As the pole star, the ultimate domain yet untouched by human intellect, Antarctica was now shrouded in a nameless blizzard.

An astonishing chill of dozens of degrees below zero whipped up snow and wind, erasing any possibility of life.

Yet, the harsh environment did not affect Da Vinci’s mood.

There was no room to change the young man’s declaration; perhaps, as he said, this was a road with no return.

Known as the omnipotent genius, Leonardo da Vinci could certainly sense the resolve and power contained in the young man’s words.

This youth himself existed as the Embryo of Beast, the Evil of Humanity.

This secret was known to very few even in Chaldea.

Such an embryo was not much different from the one that once occupied the offshore oil rig—Kiara Sessyoin. The only difference was scale.

And above that was Ascension.

The third Beast, Kiara Sessyoin, sought to achieve Ascension by occupying a planet and becoming Earth’s Brain, whereas Alaric sought true Ascension through the utmost self-elevation.

Though the methods, results, and a series of issues remained unclear, the only thing Da Vinci was sure of was that his heart never wavered.

For those words had proven his stance—

Alaric, his eyes blazing, laughed and said:

 “If the Evil of Humanity is a calamity that humanity must inevitably overcome, then—the evil that starts with me, I shall be the one to surpass it!”

“This is truly a big problem, Sir Alaric.”

Da Vinci looked troubled and helpless; even if she wanted to refute or stop Alaric, that was impossible.

At this point, she was just a laborer forcibly tied to the ship.

She could not even refuse.

Even though Da Vinci-chan in Ritsuka Fujimaru’s Shadow Border had already awakened, to be able to help Ritsuka and the others in the far future—

Da Vinci had to move forward through time and acquire more information.

So traveling with Alaric was inevitable, and the price was to offer her peerless intellect.

Thinking of this, Da Vinci understood why Alaric kept her and let Ritsuka and the others go.

He must have already sensed Da Vinci-chan’s existence. That sword which severed cause and destiny also cut the connection between the Da Vincis.

To Da Vinci-chan, maybe the real Da Vinci was already dead?

Not so.

Their memories had been synchronized—at least until the severing. That sword was indeed astonishing, but Da Vinci-chan quickly analyzed its effect: not to kill, but to separate.

To completely part them and prevent the flow of information.

Alaric didn’t need to explain—Da Vinci, the omnipotent genius, quickly convinced herself.

Perhaps this was the thinking of a genius.

With a smile, Alaric watched Da Vinci’s brainstorming. He knew no matter how much he explained, it was better for Da Vinci to think things through herself.

With her intellect, she could see the pros and cons of the present and the flaws in the future. For Chaldea and Ritsuka, she would not abandon herself.

If she didn’t agree now, Alaric was ready for a prolonged standoff.

He would never give up on Da Vinci.

“So, Da Vinci, would you like to join me?”

Alaric smiled. “To see Miss Fujimaru and the others again, we must move forward too.”

“You already have my answer, don’t you?”

Da Vinci smiled gently. “Just so you know, I’m picky about my work environment. At least prepare a workshop for me, okay?”

It wasn’t just about seeing Ritsuka and Chaldea again—it was also about not being able to trust the man in front of her.

Servants are echoes of the past; Da Vinci always believed this.

The present world belonged to Ritsuka and the others—the living. What she needed was to look ahead.

Since Romani was gone, it was up to her to handle things.

Da Vinci couldn’t help but complain about that person who would never return.

At the end of 2018, the omnipotent genius and that person reached a consensus.

For the future, they would keep moving forward.

….

Over 90 days had passed since the invasion from space began. Earth had become a completely bleached planet.

Only three months of resistance—no, it was a long and endless battle that lasted three months.

All resistance ended in vain; this was normal, for we were only skilled at stalling and monitoring our neighbors.

There were no plans to handle invaders from space. The last United States of resistance was wiped out days ago, and the few remaining humans could only gaze helplessly into the void.

Everyone’s eyes were clouded with despair as they accepted that today might be Earth’s last day.

This was a conversation that took place in a certain hall—a meeting of seven Crypters.

Bzzz bzzz bzzz.

At the head seat sat a blond man in a white suit, holding a magic wand, exuding the aura of a Western noble—or should one say, a distinguished magus. In any case, he was extraordinary.

“Since the Fantasy Tree sprouted, it’s been 90 days—three whole months.”

The man, Kirschtaria, murmured with his eyes closed, “The phenomenon of filtering Lostbelt histories—the rewriting of Lostbelts—is complete.”

He opened his eyes, sweeping his gaze across the empty round table, and smiled: “Let’s celebrate the end of the first stage. This is the result of everyone’s hard work.”

“Hm? That’s a bit much, Kirschtaria.”

A projection from one seat showed a carefree young man named Beryl.

Beryl laughed, “None of us did anything worth rewarding. Whether it’s the invasion from space or the rewriting of the fabric, it’s all the great work of the Alien God. We just tried to please the Lostbelt Kings. The real show is just beginning, right?”

“You still don’t get it, Beryl.”

Ophelia, unable to watch, said coldly, “The stability of the Lostbelt is equivalent to the growth of the Tree. Lord Kirschtaria means we must give our all to contract with and maintain our Lostbelt Servants. He’s talking to immature Masters like you.”

As if she’d struck a nerve, Ophelia’s gaze turned sharp, glaring fiercely at Beryl’s projection.

“Hey hey, don’t look at me like that, Ophelia. It’s no joke to be glared at by you, you know?”

Beryl glanced at Kirschtaria, eyes slightly narrowed. “Speaking of which, Lord Kirschtaria, you’ve really changed since waking up—well, I won’t tease you about that. I get wanting to lean on others in times like this.”

The more Beryl spoke, the sharper Ophelia’s glare grew, like a wolf, intimidating to behold.

Beryl smiled, “I just want to clear up a misunderstanding. I’m being more earnest than ever, miss.”

He grew serious: “After all, we’ve died once already, right? I’m not so great that I can play around in this situation. Even if I’ve been revived, I don’t think the Alien God’s blessing will come a second time. So I’ll do everything I want while I’m still alive—”

Beryl’s gaze turned cruel, a look that delighted in slaughter: “Whether it’s killing or plundering, it’s a joy only the living can savor—right, you agree, Daybit?”

The seven A-Team Masters had truly died, not just in a state of suspension. In the control room explosion set off by Lev, none survived.

Yet, the Alien God appeared and pulled them back from death.

This experience made Beryl crave the joy of killing even more.

After all, one cannot enjoy such things when dead.

“Well said. Killing like an assembly line is an experience you can’t get in the pod.”

The man called Daybit replied expressionlessly: “After all, both our assigned regions are primitive zones. There’ll be plenty of opportunities.”

Beryl agreed, “Exactly. Even if we didn’t plan on it, they’d come to kill us. Who has time to play?”

Seeing the two in harmony, Ophelia only commented coldly, “Is that so? I pity your Lostbelts.”

Not far away, Kadoc looked listless, as if he had no intention of joining in.

The oldest one, Peperoncino, asked, “Hey, compared to Beryl as usual, you’re looking under the weather, Kadoc. Dark circles? Not enough sleep? Too much stress?”

“...Both. Leave me be.”

Kadoc said in a low voice, “I’m doing my job.”

Compared to the other geniuses of A-Team, Kadoc seemed far too ordinary, especially after taking charge of his Lostbelt.

Three months of pressure was enough to crush the human mind.

“That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

Unwilling to give up, Peperoncino smiled, “If you want me to leave you alone, at least smile. If a friend looks gloomy, I’ll get depressed too. It’s only natural.

I’m worried about you for my own sake, not yours. Got it?

If you want to stand alone, you have to be strong enough for that.

You’re not there yet, with that pressure written all over your face. Find something to cheer yourself up.”

Peperoncino tilted his head and smiled: “By the way, sorry it’s nothing new, but want some tea? I found some nice leaves in my Lostbelt! I can share some with yours. The princess will be happy too!”

Peperoncino’s casual chitchat finally made Kadoc force a bitter smile as if he hadn’t slept in days.

“I don’t need your pointless concern.”

Kadoc forced himself, “Even if the world’s become like this, you never change, Pepe.”

“Yay~~ I got praised~!”

As if those words made his day, Peperoncino laughed: “Nice, you’re good at flattery, Kadoc!”

“That’s not it. I just have no opinion of you.”

Kadoc sighed and looked at the girl nearby. “Honestly, speaking of a playful attitude, there’s a bigger one here—Ophelia.”

To Kadoc, compared to Beryl, Peperoncino was even more playful.

Even the Lostbelt’s immense pressure didn’t change his attitude.

“This—not quite.”

Ophelia paused. “Peperoncino is the exception. That’s just his normal self.”

“Exactly. No matter what you say, Pepe won’t listen. That’s why he picked that alias, right?”

Beryl smiled: “Either he’s an irredeemable villain or a complete misfit. Either way, once he gets serious, he’ll be trouble.

Only when the world faces true crisis will he show his true face.

But, well, as the saying goes, the world’s not over—yet.”

“Let’s stop the chatter, Kirschtaria. What’s your business?”

A quiet girl holding a book, Akuta Hinako, spoke: “I’ve submitted my Lostbelt report. My Lostbelt isn’t suitable for expansion, so I won’t compete with you.

You can fight for planetary dominance. I’ve made this clear, right?”

“No one believes that. Even if you shut yourself away, conflict is inevitable, Akuta.”

Kadoc said helplessly: “In the end, only one Lostbelt can remain. Even if you give up expanding, you’ll be invaded by another sooner or later.

Don’t care? You don’t care about waiting for failure?”

Among the seven Lostbelts, in the end, only one could cover the planet; the rest would be destroyed.

“It doesn’t matter. Even if my Lostbelt disappears, it’s fine.”

Akuta said calmly: “I just want to last there till the end. That’s my acceptance level. If I can do that, I’ll obey the other Crypters.”

“You’re not interested in Lostbelt competition? Well, it’s an obvious outcome, anyway.”

Beryl laughed: “Even if we all worked together, we couldn’t match Kirschtaria. The competition for King of Earth is basically already decided.

My and Daybit’s regions are a mess. How could those be possible human histories?

In that regard, Kirschtaria’s Lostbelt is flawless—maybe even more prosperous than Proper Human History!

So unfair—born noble, even his luck is different!”

Unlike the other Crypters, Kirschtaria’s Lostbelt was far more complete and powerful.

This was a game where the other six were just extras.

The real protagonist was Kirschtaria alone.

“Beryl, watch your mouth! Kirschtaria conquered that city by his own power!”

Ophelia rebuked: “He has three Divine Spirits to prove it—”

“That’s enough, you should stop too, Ophelia. Beryl isn’t wrong.”

Kirschtaria interrupted: “But in the end, I will be the victor. It’s self-evident. No matter how the process is judged, the result won’t change.”

He paused: “Alright, though this is a remote call, I didn’t gather you to check on Lostbelt growth.

About an hour ago, one of my Servants predicted the appearance of a Saint Graph Portrait and Summoning Armament.

The Saint Graph Portrait belongs to Chaldea. The summoning circle is Mash Kyrielight’s Round Table.

This means, from Antarctica, through imaginary space, their submarine Shadow Border is finally surfacing.”

“They aren’t dead yet.”

Ophelia murmured: “After drifting in imaginary space for three months…”

That’s not a realm humans can survive in, yet Chaldea managed it.

It was an amazing achievement.

“Yes, it’s a good thing Koyanskaya had prepared the Association, and even mobilized the new director with her face-changing skills.”

Peperoncino said: “Did you pick the wrong person, Wodime? If it were my Servant, they’d have destroyed the whole base with Chaldea in it!”

“No, that was the best choice. Chaldea’s defenses aren’t strong, but they’re foolproof.”

Kirschtaria paused: “If not for being accepted as new staff, they’d have used Rayshift.

To suppress them, you must first infiltrate and stop Chaldeas from functioning.

Koyanskaya’s plan was complete, but if there was a flaw—it was that knight.

Although Kadoc’s Servant didn’t act, even at full power, they couldn’t get past that knight to do more damage to Chaldea.

It’s no one’s fault. The three envoy Servants—the priest and Koyanskaya—aren’t ours.”

“And then?”

Kadoc asked: “Do you know where they’ll appear?”

“The prophecy isn’t that precise.”

Kirschtaria said: “Only that they’ll appear here in a few hours—”

“The location is Russia. They’ll surface in the Lostbelt.”

Daybit said calmly.

Hinako asked curiously: “Why?”

“No special reason. It’s only natural.”

Daybit glanced at her. “The only things they know about the current Earth are the Servants who attacked Chaldea and that knight.

According to the report, the knight has already entered the Russian Lostbelt.

The only connection that can bring them back from imaginary space is this. For them, the Royal Guard is also a waypoint.”

“What about the knight?”

Kadoc was more worried about the person who’d appeared in the Russian Lostbelt than about poetic justice.

With deep ties to Chaldea and now contracted with the Alien God.

“That’s for you to decide, Kadoc.”

Kirschtaria said: “Crypters should focus on expanding their Lostbelts. Other decisions are yours. According to the report, the knight chose to take root in the Russian Lostbelt from the start—perhaps for this moment.

After the Alien God’s invasion, erasing Chaldea is just extra work, even a chore.”

“But I can’t deny they’re a threat. That group is used to overturning the world.”

Kirschtaria looked at Kadoc. “Kadoc, I expect you to perform—eliminate obstacles, grow Russia’s Tree quickly. This is also about eliminating Chaldea.

I want to see equal potential in all Lostbelts. I can’t tolerate a Lostbelt as a possibility of human history ending in mediocrity.”

“You don’t have to say it. I don’t want to lose either.”

Kadoc said through pursed lips: “I’m cutting the call. Since they’re coming, I have to fight.”

As Kadoc disconnected, Hinako also said: “I’m returning to my throne. My king here is a monster of curiosity and desire for control.

If I don’t keep watch, who knows what’ll happen.”

Beep.

“Well, I’ll take my leave too. If Russia sends an SOS, let me know.”

Beryl said, ready to leave.

“That’s fine, but you look happy, Beryl.”

Peperoncino asked: “Is Kadoc’s crisis that amusing to you?”

“Hey, do you think I’m that cruel, Pepe?”

Beryl looked innocent: “I’m genuinely worried for Kadoc. I don’t have siblings, so I see him as a little brother. If he dies, I’ll be sad. I want to take care of him as a big brother. But—”

Thinking of something, Beryl gave a cold smile: “That’s one thing, but I’m truly glad to be alive. Since I first broke into her hospital room, I’ve never been this happy.

Though I was quickly driven out by the doctor, now no one can stop me—”

“Careful, or that knight will eliminate you!”

Peperoncino reminded Beryl as he left.

Soon, all the Crypters were gone, leaving only Kirschtaria.

“The roots of fantasy have been planted, the Alien God is about to descend—”

Kirschtaria murmured: “In these three months, the rewriting of the Lostbelts is complete. This planet, the next era of human history, is in our hands—”

Kirschtaria opened his eyes, filled with unshakable resolve—a will forged through countless adventures, a spirit no less than the last Master of humanity.

“I am not satisfied with this.”

Kirschtaria declared into the empty void:

 “The sages of Proper Human History, out of naivety, ignored humanity. The Beast who called himself King of Mages, out of pity, abandoned humanity.

But I am different. I will show no mercy.

It’s been over two thousand years since mystery was severed and the world’s foundation was entrusted to humanity—

The world no sage has ever reached, no magus ever considered—I will challenge that conclusion!”

“Watch closely, Marisbury Animusphere.

What you drew on paper, I will make a reality.”

…

Russian Lostbelt.

A blizzard raged between heaven and earth, the terrifying cold denying any possibility of human survival.

Even without reaching the pole, Russia’s daily temperature was not inferior to Antarctica’s.

Alaric, hands in pockets, yawned and looked at the genius lying on a chair not far away: “Lady Da Vinci, what do you think of this Lostbelt?”

“A world struggling to survive, but with almost zero future potential.”

Da Vinci, holding hot tea, looked at the blizzard and said blandly: “This environment is just too harsh.”

“That’s why it’s an abandoned possibility.”

Yawning, Alaric said: “They’ve stopped developing; even survival is hard, let alone pioneering a future.”

Alaric didn’t pick the Russian Lostbelt first. After learning from Da Vinci about the conditions for surfacing from imaginary space, and buying information on other Lostbelts from Koyanskaya, Alaric found even the worldview a headache.

After thinking it over, Alaric finally chose Russia—the softest target.

“That’s your reason?”

Da Vinci glanced at the young man: “Is that your reason for killing them?”

Even Da Vinci was shocked and troubled by Alaric's plan.

This was inhuman slaughter.

It wasn’t killing one, tens, hundreds, or thousands—but an entire country, an entire world.

“It’s necessary—a win-win-win situation.”

Alaric exhaled, looking calm, not at all burdened by what was to come: “Whether it’s me, Miss Fujimaru, or the Alien God, all will benefit.

Why not?”

“You really are an outrageous man.”

Da Vinci shook her head and smiled lightly: “Who did you learn this from? Or is your Evil of Humanity Saint Graph making you extreme?”

“Who knows.”

Alaric smiled, gazing at the endless blizzard, where the Fantasy Tree stood silently.