Typemoon: Starting Out as the Lion King's Personal Knight [412] (Patreon)

At this moment, Rasputin had already arrived just three paces away from Alaric. With his hands clasped behind his back, he smiled as he made eye contact with Alaric.

Seeing that the other party wasn’t buying into the act, Alaric simply shrugged and spread his hands. “So? What are you planning to do?”

There was no doubt Rasputin would try to stop him, but it was not for the sake of the Lostbelt’s stability.

Based on Alaric’s observations over the past few months, Father Rasputin did not place the stability of the Lostbelt as his top priority.

This was normal. Except for the Greek Lostbelt under Kirschtaria’s control, the others were mere foils—whether they were destroyed or survived didn’t really matter to Rasputin as an Apostle of the Foreign God.

After all, the descent of the Foreign God required nothing more than the sprouting of a single Fantasy Tree.

And naturally, that tree would, by all logic, be the one in the Greek Lostbelt.

So, once the issue of the Fantasy Tree—this Lostbelt’s keystone—was set aside, Father Rasputin’s motives became easy to deduce.

Unlike Koyanskaya, whose actions and insatiable urge to trade were similar to Alaric, Father Rasputin, who lingered in the Russian Lostbelt yet did nothing, had a very simple purpose.

He was only here to witness.

To witness the fate of Anastasia, the princess of this snowy country.

As a fellow countryman, this was the only remaining tie that could keep Rasputin here for the time being.

That’s why Alaric hadn’t made a move against Anastasia.

Of course, the mysterious weapon possessed by Kadoc that could threaten Alaric was also part of the reason.

To this day, Alaric still didn’t understand what kind of Mystic Code Kadoc must possess to actually pose a threat to him.

Any Mystic Code or attack that could affect him would need to have at least an A-rank mystery rating—plus, there was always a cost.

No powerful Mystic Code could be used without any price.

At least, that was Alaric’s belief.

Having studied at both the Clock Tower and Chaldea, Alaric already possessed a wealth of magical knowledge. Mystic Codes could generally be divided into two types.

Support-type Mystic Codes and function-limited Mystic Codes. The former typically included those with amplification or mana-supplementing functions for mages.

By using a support-type Mystic Code, one could cast spells with less mana, or use more mana than their own limit would normally allow.

Therefore, any magus would at least keep a support-type Mystic Code as a backup mana tank, just in case.

But if Kadoc was able to use some extremely powerful Mystic Code to unleash dangerous high-level magecraft on Alaric, it had to be a function-limited Mystic Code.

Compared to the amplification effects of support Mystic Codes, a Mystic Code that could cause a specific phenomenon on its own was called a function-limited Mystic Code.

Using such a Mystic Code didn’t require complex procedures—just pour mana into it.

This was similar to a Servant’s Noble Phantasm. Although a Noble Phantasm’s power was far beyond ordinary, and their origins in legend paired them uniquely with their Servants, making them special, most of them were essentially function-limited Mystic Codes.

But no matter how he thought about it, Alaric couldn’t figure out just how powerful a Mystic Code Kadoc would need to possess to be that dangerous.

Unable to find an answer to Kadoc’s problem for now, Alaric simply set it aside and turned his gaze back to Rasputin in front of him.

“Father, then what excuse do you plan to use to stop me?”

Alaric asked calmly, “Is it in the name of Rasputin, or as an Apostle of the Foreign God?”

“Oh? That’s rather hurtful, you know.”

Father Rasputin, sounding a little aggrieved, gave a faint smile. His deep voice could not be drowned out even by the wind and snow: “I thought three months of camaraderie would make you hesitate—of course, my superior also has some complaints about your unauthorized use of the Fantasy Tree’s mana, so I hope you’ll be more restrained.”

During these three months, Alaric hadn’t interacted much with Kadoc but he had exchanged plenty with Father Rasputin, the Apostle of the Foreign God, and Koyanskaya, who was masquerading as one.

Aside from the costly exchanges with Koyanskaya, Alaric was quite pleased with the free conversations he’d had with Father Rasputin.

In comparison, talking with Rasputin was certainly easier.

“I found it there. It’s just sitting in the tree, might as well use it.”

Alaric didn’t dwell on the matter of camaraderie, and he planned to simply muddle through the issue of misappropriating the Fantasy Tree’s mana.

After all, Rasputin was just stating the facts.

Alaric had indeed siphoned off the mana from the Fantasy Tree—the keystone of the Lostbelt—to create a Holy Grail as a detonator.

If he hadn’t tried every trick to steal magical resources, he and Da Vinci still wouldn’t have finished making the Holy Grail by now.

“That’s quite a headache, Lord Alaric.”

Even Rasputin showed a troubled expression, saying, “By contract, you shouldn’t be doing things like this. Though my superior turns a blind eye to your actions, so I suppose it’s tacitly approved.”

“What’s so bad about it, Father Rasputin?”

Alaric spread his hands and asked, “All you really want to see is Anastasia, right? Ivan the Terrible doesn’t matter to you at all. That guy is just a ticking time bomb. If we get rid of him, everyone’s happy.

The Fantasy Tree can’t take root because of Ivan the Terrible. Unlike the other Lostbelts, Ivan stubbornly rejects the Fantasy Tree’s descent, using his immense authority to constantly suppress its rooting.

That’s why the Fantasy Tree’s growth has lagged behind. This isn’t what I want to see, Father Rasputin.

By contract, I must eliminate Ivan the Terrible and let the Fantasy Tree take root.”

Alaric’s contract with a certain someone had only three clauses, one of which was to ensure the Fantasy Tree took root and sprouted, guaranteeing the Lostbelt’s development and—the eventual pruning.

The Fantasy Tree would never allow a Lostbelt to overtake the entire planet. Their ending was always the same.

To be pruned—completing [Human Order Restoration ■■].

Alaric was simply maximizing his use of the situation.

Seeing that Alaric had made up his mind, Rasputin—who knew his nature well—quickly gave up trying to persuade him.

After all, all the Apostles had their own missions. Alaric’s efforts to awaken Ivan the Terrible had nothing to do with Rasputin.

Even if he had to force things with Anastasia, it wouldn’t matter—if that was her fate, he would accept it.

But a request from that certain someone was something he could not refuse.

Thinking of this, Rasputin glanced helplessly at the silver-haired woman standing not far away—a figure that looked human but had inhuman traits.

A silver-white body adorned with indecipherable ornaments, she was ultimately a noble shrine maiden.

A noble one who constantly observed the Lostbelt—if the request came from her, Rasputin would never refuse.