Typemoon: Starting Out as the Lion King's Personal Knight [416] (Patreon)

Not long ago, Musashi suddenly appeared before Fujimaru, who had only just reunited with the rebel army.

She claimed to be a mysterious girl who had crossed many worlds, just like Alaric.

From Musashi, Fujimaru, Holmes, and even Da Vinci-chan learned about stories that had happened in parallel worlds—one could even call them lost histories.

Musashi and Alaric's experiences aside, what mattered most to Fujimaru and Chaldea was determining where Alaric had appeared after leaving the Singularity in 2030.

According to the timeline, it was highly likely that he encountered Musashi.

"Is this person a Servant?"

After Musashi spoke, Kadoc couldn't help but glance at the flamboyantly dressed female samurai. He knew nothing about this girl.

Even among the Servants already present in this Russian territory, she had never appeared, and he hadn’t sensed any spirit origin reaction.

"Nope, I’m still alive!"

Musashi lightly tapped the hilt of her sword and smiled. “Since you’ve met Alaric, you can pretty much consider me the same kind of person as him!”

Though it had been a long time since she parted ways with Alaric and she had crossed countless worlds since then, to Musashi, it felt like only yesterday.

To Musashi, the world was nothing more than scenery along a journey—no one could travel with her for long.

After parting with Alaric, Musashi had again traversed several, even a dozen worlds. No matter how many sights she saw, none of them ever bore her mark.

Even after mastering the Niten Ichiryu style and being able to use Swallow Reversal, even Iori—her own student—couldn’t make Musashi feel this way.

Carefree by nature, Musashi had already fulfilled her sole wish and should have stopped there, but she still wasn’t satisfied.

She hoped, that she could meet that certain someone once more—to prove she was no longer alone.

And finally, that day had come—

Hearing this, Kadoc, who couldn’t quite appreciate Musashi’s strange metaphor, chose to continue looking at Fujimaru and said, “You’ll help us, right?”

“This guy speaks so awkwardly,” Musashi said with a laugh. “If you just asked properly, Fujimaru would definitely help you, you know!”

“That’s right. Kadoc, since you also want to defeat Ivan the Terrible, doesn’t that mean we’re on the same side?”

Mash nodded and asked, “Then why did you have the Slaughter Soldiers attack us? And your Servant—?”

“I don’t want to be friends with you guys. I just need to gather the pieces that can defeat Ivan the Terrible.”

Kadoc said calmly, “The rebel army, Chaldea, and me and Caster—my stage isn’t quite set, but it’ll have to do.”

Alaric’s actions had disrupted the plans Kadoc had thought over for so long, forcing him to seek cooperation in person.

“Fine, we’ll help you.”

Fujimaru did not hesitate and immediately agreed to Kadoc’s invitation. “How much time do we have left? You came here after fighting Sir Alaric, so Sir Alaric must have already entered the palace, right?”

A few days ago, when Alaric reunited with Fujimaru, he had already mentioned the plan to defeat Ivan the Terrible; now, the schedule had simply moved up.

“Very soon. Once Salieri returns to the palace, Sir Alaric will probably make his move.”

Having finished organizing the information by himself, Kadoc said gravely, “Salieri’s Requiem has built a dream for Ivan the Terrible. Once he dies, Ivan will awaken from the dream.”

…

Meanwhile—

Inside the Moscow Palace.

Alaric, having entered the Moscow Palace again, walked unhurriedly toward Ivan the Terrible’s bedchamber. Along the way, the only things he saw were the pitch-black Slaughter Soldiers.

But none dared block his way, so Alaric proceeded unhindered deep into the palace.

At the entrance to the bedchamber, Rasputin, who had been waiting for some time, looked at the approaching young man and smiled. “Not waiting for Salieri to come back?”

Rasputin had no intention of stopping Alaric from trying to awaken Ivan the Terrible—he was just going to watch.

“There’s always more solutions than difficulties, right?”

Alaric replied coolly, “If the only way to break the dream is to eliminate Salieri, wouldn’t that make me look incompetent?”

Seeing the situation, Father Rasputin said no more, nodded slightly, and withdrew.

When the final barrier also left of its own accord, Alaric pushed open the doors to the bedchamber—

And entered the monster’s lair.

The moment Alaric set foot in the bedchamber, the world trembled.

Perhaps not the whole world—maybe just the palace, or even all of Moscow shook.

Naturally, the first to bear the brunt was the one who had so boldly intruded into the monster’s den.

The sleeping beast’s breath was as fearsome as a storm, thunder bursting with rhythm echoed throughout the chamber.

An even stronger scent of magical energy filled the air—this was a creature beyond any phantasmal species, divine beast, or even dragon, just as Caenis had praised.

There was no doubt—this was a monster at the very peak.

Just meeting its gaze would shatter one’s mind; approaching it meant being forever trapped in thunderous sleep.

Body and mind both reached an inhuman realm. It was not a creature one could communicate with; even the so-called new Yaga species were as insignificant as ants before it.

The first Yaga—Ivan the Terrible.

Even in sleep, he displayed power surpassing first-rate Servants, rivaled only by gods.

But even Ishtar and Jaguar Man, whom Alaric had seen in Mesopotamia, or even Ereshkigal in her normal state, could not compare.

In Alaric’s view, only Quetzalcoatl the Feathered Serpent, Tiamat the Primordial Goddess, and—Artoria Pendragon, the Lion King, King of the End, Ruler of the Storm—could match it.

To challenge such a supreme being alone was something Alaric could hardly have imagined in the past.

After all, his participation in those mythic wars was mostly thanks to external help.

Without abundant magical energy, he wouldn’t even be able to defeat a first-rate Servant.

Alaric gazed calmly at the area at the far end, hidden by a curtain. He knew that was where Ivan the Terrible lay.

This was his first meeting with Ivan the Terrible—and it would also be the last.

Crackle.

Red arcs of electricity flickered—the symbol of being a Dragon.

It was an existence worthy of being called the Dragon of Britain, a gift from the departed king to Alaric, now his very foundation and guiding star.

In that moment, Alaric unleashed all his magical power without reserve, his blood surging and roaring within him.

The rising dragon’s might swept across all of Moscow, making him a monster no less than Ivan the Terrible in the eyes of every Yaga!

Its power was vast and boundless!

Boom—boom—boom!!

Thunder roared, and amid the swirling snow, crimson arcs of lightning flashed, as if a massive, unseen beast was slowly moving through it all.