Typemoon: Starting Out as the Lion King's Personal Knight [408] (Patreon)

The calm declaration struck Kadoc’s ears like a raging storm.

The pretense of peace had already been shattered.

At this point, words were meaningless—Kadoc wouldn’t even try to find an excuse to avoid this battle.

Even if Alaric could match a Servant in strength, there had to be some limit.

Three months ago, Alaric had briefly clashed with Anastasia at Chaldea, and Kadoc believed that the only reason they had ended in a stalemate was because Anastasia had no real intention to fight—

“Anastasia, let’s fight.”

Clenching his teeth, Kadoc said, “I’ll support you.”

“Why do you want to release the Emperor?”

Cradling her doll, Anastasia’s gaze was pure, her eyes fixed on Alaric without any excess emotion, as if she were merely asking about something trivial.

Yet the chilling cold had already begun to spread, creeping toward Alaric’s feet and the surroundings.

It was a shockingly low temperature, dropping to minus one hundred degrees Celsius—enough to freeze any living thing, and infused with a mystery so deep that even Servants would struggle to withstand it.

But to Alaric, the oncoming cold was as if it didn’t exist at all.

With a calm expression, Alaric quietly observed as a thin layer of ice covered the surroundings, his gaze finally resting on Anastasia and the doll in her arms.

Feared by the likes of Da Vinci-chan and others, Anastasia was a Caster who controlled ice. Her true terror, however, lay in the fairy she held: Viy.

Viy was a secret spirit of the Romanov dynasty, contracted to Anastasia.

Strictly speaking, a fairy or monster called Viy doesn’t actually exist.

Instead, it’s a fictional monster from the Russian writer Gogol’s bizarre short story “Viy.”

But in Slavic culture, there are multiple traditions similar to Viy, and Alaric speculated this one was based on those prototypes.

The Viy contracted to Anastasia was a familiar belonging to the Romanov dynasty.

He could use his mystic eyes to uncover all secrets, find the weak points of fortresses, and stain his enemies red with blood.

But without talent, one couldn’t even see him, much less wield him—

Anastasia had only qualified to contract with him just before her death.

One could say that all of Anastasia’s power was built upon Viy; if she relied solely on herself, even as a Heroic Spirit her strength would hardly amount to much.

After all, the real Anastasia in history was just an innocent, mischievous princess—a little rascal who’d put stones in snowballs for pranks.

The most famous photos of her were those silly faces she made.

Her short life ended swallowed by the chaos of the Russian Revolution—she was brutally murdered at Ipatiev House, along with her family, servants, and pets.

Though Alaric had only met Anastasia a few times, he was intimately familiar with her.

Summoned as a Heroic Spirit, Anastasia had no other wish—she simply wanted to protect Russia.

Her Master, Kadoc, was likewise running himself ragged for Anastasia’s wish, willing to scheme even against Ivan the Terrible.

Alaric naturally admired the actions of these two.

The tyranny of Ivan the Terrible—Alaric could sense its vastness even while Ivan slumbered, and for a mere magus like Kadoc to endure such pressure and plot against Ivan was truly astounding.

But that was only admiration.

If they were just running a Lostbelt without purpose, Alaric would find it even easier to act.

His brief thoughts ended quickly. Facing the oncoming cold, Alaric simply lifted his foot—in the gazes of Kadoc and Anastasia—

He stomped down.

Crack, crack, crack.

A tremendous force erupted from Alaric, spreading in all directions, instantly shredding the layers of cold.

If Anastasia was a witch of freezing, then her opponent now was a newborn sun.

The surge of life was undeniable—his very presence made the air grow warmer, a heartbeat of rhythm shaking the atmosphere.

That was the symphony of a dragon’s heart roaring.

His body was no longer human; to match a dragon’s kin, he had elevated his mortal shell to the limit. His heart was like a reactor, able to power a city, and the hot blood in his veins surged like fire.

The rising magic made Kadoc’s eye twitch uncontrollably.

What’s happening??

Why—does it feel like Alaric’s magical energy is even greater than Anastasia’s?

Just that bottomless mana was enough to overwhelm Kadoc, not to mention the towering presence that seemed to transcend life itself.

It was a different pressure than Ivan the Terrible’s authority—purer, more absolute.

You could call it a Perfect Human.

“There’s no need to fight, is there?”

Alaric strolled leisurely toward Kadoc and Anastasia, his expression relaxed. “Just step aside, princess. Otherwise—”

Alaric gripped his sword hilt in reverse, and at a speed that surpassed even Anastasia and Kadoc’s reflexes, he slashed forward!

Buzz.

Invisible sword energy swept the land, slicing past the tense Kadoc, from the ceiling above to the depths below, cutting through everything.

A cold wind howled from above, but it did nothing to lower Kadoc’s soaring blood pressure.

Only now realizing he’d narrowly escaped death, Kadoc felt every hair stand on end, his heart pounding wildly.

Even with Anastasia at his side, Kadoc couldn’t help but feel fear.

The sword energy had passed within just two or three inches of him—the sharp sword light seemed to rip through the magical defenses on his body, leaving his skin tingling.

What kind of sword was that?

As a magus, Kadoc couldn’t comprehend it, but the only judgment he could make was that it was extremely dangerous!

Was Fujimaru Ritsuka always hanging around with these kinds of people?

Kadoc truly couldn’t understand how Fujimaru Ritsuka, that so-called third-rate Master, could handle such inhuman beings. Was it not just luck—was Fujimaru Ritsuka also a monster?

But his fleeting complaint passed quickly; what mattered to Kadoc now was Anastasia—

Nothing else.

He was just too close to Alaric—

So close that even Anastasia might not be able to block Alaric’s slash!

Realizing this, Kadoc broke out in a cold sweat, gritting his teeth, already considering retreat.

But before that—

“Sir Alaric! Do you intend to cooperate with Ivan the Terrible?!”

Clutching his chest, Kadoc glared at the approaching Alaric, shouting through clenched teeth, “If Ivan the Terrible wakes up, he’ll never allow you to do as you wish!”

“Cooperate? That’s unnecessary.”

Alaric looked confused and said, “I’m here to kill Ivan the Terrible. Why would I talk about cooperation?”