Typemoon: Starting Out as the Lion King's Personal Knight [414] (Patreon)

Among the magi chosen for their aptitude in rayshift, Group A was especially unique. It was said that Kirschtaria Wodime was the true heir of the Animusphere—a genius without equal.

There was Ophelia Phamrsolone, a modern-day Valkyrie.

Then there was the cheerful, popular, yet mysterious man known as Scandinavia Peperoncino.

Beryl Gut: more like a member of a criminal syndicate than a magus, with his rugged looks; and Hinako Akuta, a taciturn, misanthropic technician who was, despite appearances, easy to get along with.

—And then there was Daybit Sem Void, a man like a blank spot, a hole left in reality itself.

Lastly, there was Mash Kyrielight, the only successful case in the Demi-Servant experiment.

Kadoc was likely the eighth member.

Kadoc Zemlupus understood deeply his own lack of ability. His magical skills were mediocre, and the history of his family’s magic crest was shallow and short—barely two hundred years. Nothing worth boasting about.

Even so, he’d been selected as a Master candidate, not for his bloodline or technique, but for an innate ability he was born with.

The pain he felt was as if he’d wasted half his life—but at the same time, he was glad that someone needed him.

After arriving at Chaldea and joining Group A, his pride and inferiority complex grew ever stronger. Everyone was a true talent, the best of the best.

Mash Kyrielight was a Designer Baby, born and raised in Chaldea, meant as a backup.

Nearly a homunculus, she legally had human rights, but her individuality and character as a human were never expected or desired.

Her existence alone was sufficient—surely, this was what Wodime, a true magus, would think.

Of course, Kadoc thought the same.

Daybit and Hinako never approached her unnecessarily. Peperoncino and Ophelia—using the excuse of fellow girls—would invite her to meals, which only made Mash uncomfortable.

Regardless, even someone like Mash Kyrielight was an indispensable talent for Group A.

The others all had strengths beyond their aptitude for rayshift. Kadoc had none of those—nothing but the chance to command an excellent Servant.

That was all he could cling to.

For that reason, he set out on the journey to repair humanity’s foundation—then the explosion happened. Trapped in their containers, they could do nothing but wait for death.

It was all meaningless. He’d failed to prove his own worth, and hadn’t even taken the first step before his life was swept away.

And so, it should have ended.

The inferiority complex that haunted him in life should have vanished too—

But they said he’d been saved. He, the last of the reserves, an outsider, had been saved by the only one left—the most unlikely person.

In place of those who didn’t even make it to the stage, that person accomplished a feat recognized by all.

—It had nothing to do with him. Normally, he wouldn’t care about things unrelated to himself. Yet, a searing jealousy burrowed into his heart.

Unwilling. Unwilling! Unwilling!!

Ah, it was humiliating, frustrating—surely he could have done the same if given the chance!

[Situation confirmed to have changed—

A proposal for those chosen for the North, a display for those abandoned.]

A voice that was not his own echoed in his ears—indifferent, yet urgent.

[If you desire glory, choose resurrection;

If you desire sloth, choose eternal sleep.

God cares not which you choose.]

Was he to make a choice? As a living being, survival was obviously the priority.

The other six agreed as well.

What they were given: [territory] and [Servants].

[I am a being that has descended from another planet. The Tree of Emptiness will initialize this world, create a new mythology, and crush Proper Human History. With your own hands, build gods, create the laws that can contain me.]

—The Lostbelt.

The domain of Russia in the 21st century, where the Tsar had survived. The Servant Kadoc summoned was Caster—

Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova, the tragic princess who bore the downfall of the Romanovs. But Russia could not go on like this; the world itself was breaking apart.

The life cycle of the Yaga was slowly but surely accelerating, and Ivan the Terrible, that broken Tsar—he refused to let the Tree of Emptiness take root, and even planned to invade other Lostbelt domains!

That could not be allowed. Kadoc had to defeat him, end his 450-year reign, and save Russia from the Tsar’s control.

Not for the Yaga, but for her.

[I hate the innocent humans who killed me. But I am also a Romanov. I am not Ivan the Terrible. I must bear this hatred, walk on thin ice all my life—unify Russia, bring it peace. That is the wish and duty of the Romanovs.]

—In her declaration, Kadoc saw the dignity of an empress.

There was no problem, then. He would use all his intelligence, use everything in the world, and trample over anything necessary.

Even if it meant plotting against Ivan the Terrible, he would grit his teeth and endure his fear.

Kadoc clenched his jaw, draining every bit of magical energy from himself, eyes fixed on the howling blizzard ahead.

The blizzard, which had subsided during the battle, once again engulfed Moscow. Many Yaga, still in shock, saw a solitary human walking down the ruined streets of Moscow.

Some Yaga wanted to approach and ask what had happened, but in the blink of an eye, the figure vanished, as if it had all been a hallucination. No one had actually walked those shattered streets.

Alaric, strolling through Moscow, naturally noticed the departure of Kadoc and Anastasia. This suited him just fine.

Besides Kadoc and Anastasia, Rasputin, who had returned to Moscow before Alaric, had already reached the Moscow Palace.

He quietly waited for Alaric’s arrival.

As for Koyanskaya, whose whereabouts remained unknown, she was probably off in some village, selling food at extortionate prices.

As Alaric drew near, more and more slaughter soldiers emerged from the blizzard.

Even the pure white snow couldn’t completely hide his figure, draped in black.

His hollow mask was terrifying to look at, let alone to communicate with.

But that was only true for the Yaga or ordinary humans; to Alaric, these slaughter soldiers were as good as non-existent.

With a calm expression, hands in his pockets, Alaric didn’t attack the way he had when he first stormed Moscow, killing everyone in his path.

Instead, he simply glanced indifferently at the Tsar’s guards, who had surrounded him.

Perhaps they could be called Ivan the Terrible’s Noble Phantasm—[Chyornyj Oprichniki].

The Black Hound Corps, transformed from Ivan the Terrible’s personal guard (Oprichniki), introduced along with his absolute power.

The Oprichniki had the authority to confiscate all aristocratic property and land; they could be called Ivan the Terrible’s right hand.

Dressed in black, riding black horses with black tack, each horse’s head adorned with a dog’s head.

Once, they ate and slept under the same roof as a community, but now that was gone.

They existed only in Ivan the Terrible’s dreams.

Whenever Ivan slept, the Noble Phantasm would activate automatically, defending and suppressing.

They appeared as countless soldiers, running everywhere, slaughtering the Tsar’s enemies.

They were terrifyingly strong as a group but individually quite weak.

Unfortunately, near Moscow, each one had power approaching that of a low-ranking Servant.

Regardless of their strength, the presence of the Oprichniki proved Ivan the Terrible was still trapped in his dream, not yet awakened.

If one wanted to wake him, they’d have to free the Oprichniki first.

“Excuse me, please make way.”

Alaric continued walking, smiling as he said, “Thank you.”

As soon as he spoke, he walked straight ahead, completely ignoring the Tsar’s guards blocking his way like an iron wall.

Almost instinctively, the Oprichniki, loyal to Tsar Ivan the Terrible, parted to let him through.

…

Not long after Alaric made his unhurried way to the Moscow Palace, Kadoc, after much effort, finally found Ritsuka Fujimaru, who had gone through many adventures and met new Servants.

“Took quite a bit of work, Fujimaru Ritsuka—”

Kadoc, still gloomy, surveyed the rebel stronghold where Fujimaru was based; multiple Servants had gathered here.

In just a few days, despite constant pursuit by the slaughter soldiers, Fujimaru had gathered so many Servants.

But it wasn’t enough.

Kadoc pursed his lips slightly. Even this many Servants weren’t enough to face Ivan the Terrible.

But he’d run out of options; he had to try.

As Kadoc made his decision, Fujimaru and Mash looked curiously at the uninvited Kadoc and the imperial princess, Anastasia, at his side.

As Anastasia had attacked Chaldea, Fujimaru and Mash had a deep impression of her—if Alaric hadn’t been there, they might have had to fight a bitter battle just to escape.

That was especially true for Fujimaru, and even more so for Mash.

Chaldea, bearing so many memories, was frozen—so how could Mash possibly restrain herself when meeting the culprit?

Fortunately, Fujimaru stopped Mash in time, holding her back while questioning Kadoc at the door: “Kadoc Zemlupus, what is your purpose?”

“Kadoc, huh—”

As Fujimaru asked, the shadow border, still barely keeping in contact, watched this unexpected encounter unfold.

While they could confirm that Kadoc and Anastasia held no hostility, Da Vinci-chan couldn’t rest easy.

After all, hadn’t they just fought Alaric not long ago?

And now they were here—was something wrong?