Typemoon: Starting Out as the Lion King's Personal Knight [418] (Patreon)

In a world of silver and white, the submersible Shadow Border sped across the land, heading toward its final destination.

“The spiritual responses scattered throughout Yaga-Moscow are being successively eliminated!”

Meunière, who was in charge of monitoring, quickly reported, “The slaughter soldiers are being wiped out!”

After confirming their heading, Holmes and the others aboard the submersible set course for Moscow, hoping to rendezvous with Ritsuka Fujimaru, who was also heading there.

“If you fight in Yaga-Moscow, this is what happens. Even the Tsar can’t stay in his dreamland anymore.”

Holmes raised his eyebrows slightly. Even he was taken aback by the current turn of events:

 “—What on earth is this? This action has truly exceeded all of my expectations?!”

Unlike Holmes’s calm sarcasm, Goredolf beside him was already wearing an expression of disbelief, muttering non-stop,

 “Ahhh, am I seeing things? Is there a malfunction in the monitor? Or is Da Vinci playing a prank?!”

Goredolf pointed at the images on the monitor and looked to Holmes for help,

 “What is going on here? Holmes, that thing showing on the monitor—even putting it mildly, it could only be described as a colossal behemoth, right?! And besides—

This vehicle is moving forward, isn’t it? Moving toward that thing that causes an earthquake with every step?!”

At this moment, the Shadow Border had already detected the emperor who had awoken from his slumber.

The emperor’s might radiated boundlessly, shaking heaven and earth.

Just his awakening alone placed the emperor squarely beyond the realm of mortals, roaring across the land as a top-tier divine beast.

And confronting this emperor, even fighting him, was a crimson dragon. Though it had not shown its full form, only a shadow reflected in the swirling blizzard, a glimpse of its true self could be seen.

That magical energy, on par with the gods, had already triggered several warnings inside the Shadow Border.

But this was not a divine being—it was the power of a knight branded with the name of Humanity’s Evil, someone Chaldea knew all too well, with their magical energy unleashed at full force.

A hellish confrontation between Tsar Ivan the Terrible and Humanity’s Evil—the Shadow Border was now heading straight for hell.

Goredolf stared at Holmes in utter disbelief.

No matter how he thought about it, this was impossible, right?

How was this any different from suicide?

“Aiya, stop! Hit the brakes, Meunière!”

Unable to bear it, Goredolf shouted,

 “What business do we have getting involved in this?! We’re powerless! We’ll just get squashed like bugs!

Immediately order Ritsuka Fujimaru to retreat! Forget about the Fantasy Tree investigation and defeating Ivan the Terrible—leave that to someone else!

We need to get out of Russian territory. If things are this chaotic anyway, we might as well go into imaginary submersion!”

Better to run for their lives than charge headlong into hell.

“That’s impossible—”

Holmes shook his head, rejecting Goredolf’s escape plan,

 “The members about to reach Yaga-Moscow can’t retreat—the difference in their pacing is too great. Before they could escape, they’d be crushed.

Our victory condition hasn’t changed: defeat Ivan the Terrible, apprehend the Crypter. For that, we must commit all our strength—”

Holmes paused.

 “With the main battle between Sir Alaric and Ivan the Terrible as a premise, we’ll cooperate with the Crypter, Kadoc, to help Sir Alaric in the subjugation.”

…

At the same time.

Just as the group in the Shadow Border rushed to Yaga-Moscow, Ritsuka Fujimaru, traveling with Kadoc, also witnessed the hellish scene over Moscow.

The blizzard that should have shrouded the whole world was torn apart, leaving only a divine mountain standing at the edge of the earth.

But the mountain was no mountain—it was the beast revealed.

The emperor, roaring across the land, radiated boundless might, declaring the authority of an absolute ruler.

This was the authority Ivan the Terrible demanded: absolute obedience to the emperor, to rule over the nobles who opposed him.

The immense pressure he exerted on nearby humans would cause a severe Crushing Weight effect, lowering all abilities.

Ordinary humans couldn’t even look directly at him.

The presence of Tsar Ivan the Terrible was already overwhelming, but another equally oppressive, evil existence was there.

If Ivan the Terrible represented all of this lost history— the strongest Yaga, the emperor who ruled Russian territory—then the dragon facing him was the Last Dragon, embodying absolute self.

Absolute self, denying all life other than itself—the only life.

Even without a beast’s form, the magical energy radiated as light and shadow through the blizzard, gazing down on the earth.

And with their magical energy fully unleashed, their authority manifested unconsciously.

The power of the Third Beast, once devoured, was now on full display—

Ecstasy to the heavens, all plunged into ruin.

But that was only the tip of the iceberg. What truly broke the spirit was the denial of continuation—

Any continuation outside oneself was error.

That was something that denied the world and humanity’s continuation—a being that would never move forward together.

Neither human in body nor in heart.

Its mere existence would destroy the world, twisting the continuation of humanity.

Without a doubt, this being was a true Beast, worthy of the name.

In proper history, if it had fully manifested and been born, it would surely have been struck down by humanity. But things were different now.

This was a lost history, a requiem for the defeated.

In the corner of history, the still-juvenile Beast was finally showing its fangs.

Just looking at this scene would cause immense mental pressure, but Ritsuka Fujimaru would not back down.

And at this moment, in a place far out of their reach…

An astonishing battle was taking place over Yaga-Moscow.

Lightning burst from the elephant’s trunk like pillars, instantly reaching tens of thousands of degrees, sweeping across the world in a radial pattern, vaporizing the swirling blizzard and engulfing Alaric!

Brilliant lightning streaked over Moscow’s sky, instantly dominating the vision of any Yaga who dared observe the battlefield—a sure way to court death.

The boundless light instantly destroyed the Yaga’s corneas, and the following shockwaves shattered houses and ground, claiming the lives of countless Yaga.

This was but a corner of hell.

And above Yaga-Moscow, Alaric reached out with one hand, twisting the oncoming lightning and forcibly deflecting this attack, which was on par with an Anti-Army Noble Phantasm.

The blue lightning howled past his side, missing him completely.

Having so effortlessly rejected the attack, Alaric’s lips curled into a slight smile, his pale gold dragon eyes full of anticipation for what would happen next.

“Unknown dragon!”

With the emperor’s roar, the ground beneath him began to shatter.

Tremors of incredible magnitude began to radiate outward.

Without a doubt, this was a being that could be called a natural disaster.

The emperor’s rage had already destroyed most of Moscow, and his might continued to expand. If this continued, he would surely destroy the entire Russian territory!

BOOM!

Lightning raged across the world, endless snowstorms swept the land like blades.

To expel and destroy the intruder, the emperor continuously raised his trunk, divine-level magical energy transforming into thunder and roaring forth.

A single strike was manageable, but with repeated attacks and increasing power, even Alaric struggled to withstand it.

This was clearly a contest of magical reserves against Ivan the Terrible, a monster who had grown for 450 years—a thankless, losing proposition.

Constantly stirring his magical energy to twist and deflect the incoming lightning, Alaric’s gaze fell on the mountain peak that was Ivan the Terrible, the crown-like structure highlighting the emperor’s authority.

Based on multiple observations and the density of death lines shown by his Mystic Eyes of Death Perception, Alaric had already found Ivan’s weakness.

Ivan the Terrible’s weakness was simple: it was the crown at the top of that mountain, formed from the palace.

A body that had grown to such a scale must have a core, and as self-proclaimed emperor, he ultimately acquired this crown.

Alaric’s earlier attack in the bedchamber had already dealt significant damage to the crown.

The weakness was simply too obvious, too fragile.

All the more so for Alaric.

If Ivan the Terrible could maintain his current power and fight Alaric with incredible mobility, Alaric would find it troublesome.

But this mountain beast was just a target for Alaric. No matter how much noise it made, it wouldn’t affect him in the slightest.

That earlier punch, charged with crimson lightning, was comparable to an Anti-Army Noble Phantasm. If Ivan hadn’t been strong enough, even the weak spot would have been destroyed—he wouldn’t have been able to get back up.

Looking at the towering mountain ahead, Alaric couldn’t help but exclaim,

 “What a monster—”

Ivan the Terrible was nothing but an appetizer—not worth wasting time on.

Still standing high in the sky, Alaric raised his hand and closed it in the air. A slender beam of light blossomed and grew from his palm, transforming into a spear of light.

That was the Holy Spear Rhongomyniad, the anchor point of the stars, anchoring the tower through the planet, standing at the edge of the world, the spine that protected humankind.

“Holy Spear, Drop Anchor.”

Buzz.

No need for anyone’s consent—with absolute authority and constraint, the conditions for release were met.

Alaric raised the holy spear, smiling, rising higher and higher, until he reached the empty sky.

This was a realm only he could attain—a lonely realm, and a realm of the strong.

Alaric declared in a clear voice:

 “O Holy Spear, proclaim the end!”

Sensing danger, the emperor roared ceaselessly. At the tip of his raised trunk, even greater magical energy gathered—power terrifyingly beyond human understanding.

Even without any magecraft, the sheer scale of power alone reached the level of the gods!

“Divine-level magical response is surging!”

Inside the Shadow Border, alarms blared continuously, the crimson lights announcing something was about to erupt.

“Enough, we can see it!”

A pale-faced Goredolf couldn’t help shaking, staring out the window at the dazzling star.

They were now so close that no instruments were needed to observe it—maybe even at a greater distance, it would have been visible.

But precisely because of this, Goredolf, from a prestigious magical family, muttered in disbelief,

 “Even for a grand ritual, this is too much! Is he using some mystic code? Is he really a modern human???”

Though Goredolf’s grades at the Clock Tower were only average, he still knew the basics: mystery was dwindling in the world.

But that thing was different.

It wasn’t the result of technique, but the most primordial magical energy.

Just the magical energy alone rivaled the gods—it was unthinkable for Goredolf.

Staring out the window, Goredolf mumbled,

 “Isn’t Chaldea a little too strange?”

Holmes also looked out the window and nodded silently, smiling helplessly,

 “It seems we’ll have to wait a while before we can go in. It’s too dangerous right now.”

“That’s right!”

Da Vinci-chan, still in the engine room, laughed,

 “If we barge in now, just the aftermath of their clash would vaporize us!”

“Forget about your feelings for now. Da Vinci, are you ready over there?”

Holmes, pipe in mouth, said,

 “As long as you send over the data, that’s all we need.”

“We still have to pick up our adorable Mash—”

Seeing that Moscow was unreachable, Da Vinci-chan turned the vehicle around,

 “Let’s contact Ritsuka Fujimaru and the others first.”

…

At the same time—

Ritsuka Fujimaru’s group, also turning to try to rendezvous with the Shadow Border, saw the dazzling star flashing above Yaga-Moscow.

The emperor’s wrath was already in the past; now, a star had risen.

The wind and snow stopped, dazzling lightning surged like a sea, and the surging magical energy could be felt even by those outside Moscow.

That was a divine-level magical outburst, its power rivaling Anti-Army or even Anti-Fortress Noble Phantasms!

But that was still within the realm of mortals. Even if it reached the level of gods, even if it became a rare divine beast, even if it could stand with the gods—

It was still just a monster’s roar.

Blossoming with the lightning was the breath of the stars, a slender aurora from the edge of the world—the proclamation of the stars—

Pierce the earth, open the cosmos, even the planet itself could be pierced!

The endless blizzard did not recede from the emperor’s might, but before the star’s aurora, it silently vanished.

This was not the retreat of a mere city’s snowfall, but the instant evaporation of the uppermost cold currents of the sky.

Sunlight spread over a span of dozens of kilometers.

Azure skies—world without wind or snow—a miraculous sight not seen in these lands for hundreds of years.

And high above, the spear of light had already formed.

“Take this well—”

Alaric smiled and declared the true name of the Holy Spear in his hand:

 “Spear That Shines at the End, Rhongomyniad.”

There was once a legend: the fully-powered King Arthur could even sink the island of Britain.

So, with someone equal to or stronger than Arthur, such a feat was possible.

The slender spear of light was a great spell that could rival the power of the gods, its might comparable to the Sword of Promised Victory.

Light fell.

It was judgment upon the emperor.

Almost at the same time, the emperor roared and released a thunderball, the surge of magical energy reaching the realm of Anti-Fortress Noble Phantasms!

Under Ritsuka Fujimaru’s gaze, the spear of light fell from the heavens, pierced through the lightning, penetrated Moscow, and raised a titanic wave at the end of all things.