Typemoon: Starting Out as the Lion King's Personal Knight [419] (Patreon)

Awakening from an eternal dream.

To protect my people during the famine brought by the great cold wave, I kept pushing westward.

For my people, to uphold the emperor’s radiance.

Yet, the world abruptly ended.

Regardless of our will, our efforts, our wishes, the defeat of this world had already been decided.

Indeed, a voice not of the heavens proclaimed to us—an alien witch from the cosmos made this declaration.

—I can no longer endure this.

The only reason I endured this hell was not to give up, nor to forgive.

It was never to welcome such an ending!

I—Russia—will never perish, never!

Confronting the light at the end, the emperor’s heart was filled with fury. He raised his trunk and let out his most furious roar.

Rumble, rumble, rumble.

“Top-tier Noble Phantasm—”

All Servants who witnessed this scene murmured to themselves. Without a doubt, this was the kind of destructive power only at the pinnacle of Noble Phantasms, capable of challenging even the gods.

Its overwhelming firepower left everyone present in the dust.

Having witnessed the falling spear of light, Musashi muttered, “No way? Alaric, you sure kept a lot up your sleeve, didn’t you?”

Everyone here was a swordsman, and they’d already thought Alaric’s arrows were strong enough. But this top-tier firepower could probably destroy that repulsive Lostbelt capital with a single blow.

Just then, the long-delayed submarine finally arrived, stopping in front of Ritsuka Fujimaru and the others. Da Vinci-chan’s voice sounded: “Mash, get on board. Ritsuka, you head for Moscow first. Ivan the Terrible’s reaction hasn’t disappeared yet, but you don’t need to rush to Moscow anymore—that place has already been eradicated.

Head for the Fantasy Tree instead. That’s the real final battlefield!”

Upon hearing this, Ritsuka immediately had Mash return to the submarine, while she continued toward Moscow with Musashi, Kadoc, and the others.

The battle was not over yet!

As Ritsuka and her group pressed forward—

Within Yaga-Moscow, boundless light and heat swept over the emperor’s body.

That was god-level heat. Even after the clashing thunder had weakened it, it still possessed terrifying anti-fortress power.

Even Ivan the Terrible, who had reached the apex of divine beasts, couldn’t avoid being injured by such heat!

The blessing of lightning that had covered his body since awakening was extinguished, leaving him completely exposed before the light at the end.

“Ahhhhh!!”

Divine light, as vast as the sea, crashed down like a tide, engulfing the emperor’s towering form—his body, as massive as a mountain.

Large swathes of flesh were vaporized. The intense pain made Ivan the Terrible let out thunderous, agonized howls.

Even before blood could flow, it was instantly evaporated in that horrific heat.

The ground and the city around him suffered the same fate.

In just a few breaths, Moscow vanished from Russian territory, leaving behind only a solitary monster.

When the dazzling radiance faded, the mountain-like beast still stood upon the land, emitting a thunderous, heavy breath. Streams of white mist howled, scattering debris everywhere.

The inhuman body that once symbolized absolute might was now riddled with wounds. Even the lightning that represented the emperor’s majesty had dimmed.

But that was all.

As a top-tier divine beast, the monster standing at the peak of Russian territory couldn’t be fatally wounded by even anti-fortress Noble Phantasms!

Buzz.

Almost as the light faded, an aurora descended from the heavens, falling straight down. With a thunderous roar, it struck the crown atop Ivan the Terrible’s head!

After enduring two consecutive assaults, the crown was already damaged beyond measure!

“Why, why, why?!”

The emperor demanded an answer—from an existence that shouldn’t even be here, that shouldn’t be his enemy.

“You’re not from here, are you? You’re not a Servant, are you? You’re not from proper human history! Why, why? Why must you draw your sword against me?!”

The wrath of thunder was laid bare, and his imperial dignity towered above all life.

“And why is that?”

Alaric, putting away his holy lance, replied calmly, “No particular reason. Losers should just leave the stage.”

Crash—

Chains of Heaven, conjured from the void, pierced the crown in unison. Accompanied by Ivan the Terrible’s anguished cries, they tore the crown off!

The moment the crown fell, Alaric sensed that the mountain-like beast beneath him instantly lost all response.

The vast, oceanic magical energy began to recede—

When Alaric landed on the ground, a strange emperor stood before him.

Not the mountain-sized beast, but a nearly humanoid emperor; the traits of the mammoth had not faded, but remained forever etched on Ivan the Terrible’s body.

Something like tusks rose from his shoulders, exuding imperial majesty.

His massive frame, five meters tall, forced Alaric to look up to meet his gaze.

Perhaps this was the emperor’s true form. Though his power had dwindled to a wreck, his sanity remained.

“Blasphemer, state your name—”

Ivan the Terrible, wielding his scepter, questioned the only human present.

“The last Knight of the Round Table under the Lion King, Alaric. Nothing more.”

With his eyes downcast, Alaric said, “Other than that, I’m just an ordinary man.”

“Last Knight of King Arthur—”

It sounded absurd, but Ivan the Terrible accepted the introduction. “Then let me ask, what is your objective?”

Ivan the Terrible, holding absolute authority over Russian territory.

Without his permission, even the Fantasy Tree could not take root.

Alaric’s actions could no longer be hidden from him. The three months of preparation were as clear as day to Ivan.

“To preserve. Since history has ended, let me take charge.”

Alaric smiled gently. “Let me make use of everything so that your history can continue.”

There are many forms of continuation: the continuation of life, the continuation of spirit.

For Ivan the Terrible, to continue meant to survive.

Only by surviving can anything continue.

“That’s your reason?”

Ivan the Terrible gripped his scepter tightly, glaring at the insignificant human.

Unacceptable. It was unacceptable to destroy the world for such a reason.

“For that? For that reason, are you going to kill every suffering soul in this world?!”

Lonely, proud, fierce.

Kind, cruel, violent, simple, passionate, cold.

I had a dream—a dream where Russia was filled with happiness. I must have been tired, right? Such a thing doesn’t exist in reality.

Throughout history, Russian rule has been harsh. This is not the people’s fault.

The fault lies with the world itself: lacking food, unable to survive, only the strong live—everything is wrong.

Forward, forward, ever forward.

—Like a pilgrimage.

When I was still human, I dreamt of such times, offering prayers to God every day—those simple, bygone days.

...Even that tranquility has been stolen by this world.

As the emperor ruling this world, I must ask—

Not to another person from a dead-end history, but to one who comes from proper history.

To another who shares this cut-off history, his answer has no meaning. His world has no meaning.

All he can give the emperor is useless rage.

Even though he faces the same dead end, he chooses to do something so pointless.

His resolve is nothing but a hollow hymn—

Arrogant and self-serving—unforgivable!

In the emperor’s eyes, only someone from proper history, from proper humanity, can give the final answer.

Ivan the Terrible, dragging his wounded body, staggered toward the great tree at the edge of his vision.

Deep sword wounds covered his form. Even with his inhuman body, it was as if he’d suffered fatal injuries—scarlet blood gushed forth.

With each step, the ground beneath him grew red.

Behind him, a certain someone holding a holy sword silently watched the emperor’s last pilgrimage. He did not kill the emperor but granted him a final path.

This was not just Ivan the Terrible’s end; it was something Ritsuka Fujimaru would have to face as well.

“So Ivan the Terrible sets out on his final expedition.”

Appearing quietly beside him, the priest gave a rueful smile. “As his mentor, I feel both proud and sad.”

He had appeared before Ivan the Terrible as Father Rasputin, so naturally, he called himself the mentor.

“Who are you now?”

Noticing a change in demeanor, Alaric glanced at the priest. There was a subtle shift from before—more in spirit than body.

“Hmm, your powers of observation are keen. No, I am not Rasputin now.”

The priest continued, “Just now, that role ended. Rasputin’s wish has been fulfilled. He is free now.”

A wish?

Upon hearing this, Alaric understood. “Not to witness the princess’s end, but to see her ascend the throne?”

This was not the end, just the fall of an emperor.

Ivan the Terrible was dead. What walked the earth now was just a shell.

He was no longer the Tsar.

There can only be one emperor in this land.

The moment Ivan the Terrible was dethroned, another qualified candidate naturally inherited the right to rule and became emperor.

If that was the wish, then this change was the answer.

“Though he was a priest, he was also the guardian of the Romanov dynasty.” The priest smiled softly. “For her to ascend the throne, he agreed to become a pseudo-Servant. Now that Ivan the Terrible has been defeated, only Anastasia remains as emperor. So he has no more reason to stay in this world.”

“So now you’re Father Kotomine?”

Alaric asked curiously, “Are you the same Kotomine Kirei who participated in the 2004 Holy Grail War?”

In this world, the Holy Grail War was only held once—when Marisbury, the director of Chaldea, participated in 2004.

Kotomine Kirei was, of course, the supervisor from the Church for that war.

Afterwards, he was reported dead, but his body was never found.

“Who knows? Rasputin’s wish has been fulfilled, but that doesn’t mean I’m not interested in being reborn.”

The priest said, “I’ll freely finish my work, since my ties to this Lostbelt are over. But please behave yourself in your work, or if the higher-ups hold you responsible, that’ll be a headache for me.”

“What’s the priest’s work?”

Alaric asked, casually putting away his sword. “If you don’t file your report, maybe you can keep it secret for a bit longer?”

“That would be a headache too.”

Kotomine Kirei smiled faintly. “As for my work, naturally, a priest’s job is to bless new life born into the world. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to see Her Majesty the princess.”

Kotomine Kirei departed. Alaric did not stop him.

“Whew—”

Letting out a long breath, Alaric’s tense body relaxed all at once.

The battle with Ivan the Terrible had put unprecedented pressure on him. After all, he’d challenged such a terrifying divine beast alone.

If not for Ivan’s glaring weakness, Alaric could never have won so easily—in fact, he would’ve needed help even in a hard-fought battle.

Beep beep.

“You’re like a monster now—”

Da Vinci’s teasing voice sounded in his ear. Alaric raised an eyebrow, then laughed, “This is nothing, really. Lady Da Vinci, are you here now?”

“Not yet~”

Da Vinci replied via remote communication, “God-level magical surges are easy to observe. You all made a huge scene!”

“There’s no way to win without going all-out.”

Alaric swept his gaze across the now pure-white world. Everything had been vaporized, leaving only the mountain behind.

That was once Ivan the Terrible—the divine beast’s body, which did not dissipate in death, but would remain until this Lostbelt faded.

Yaga-Moscow was completely destroyed in this battle, with no survivors.

That was only natural. Alaric had used the holy lance Rhongomyniad. With his magical output, Rhongomyniad was a genuine A++ anti-fortress Noble Phantasm.

Not lingering, Alaric turned to leave. “The Fantasy Tree should be taking root soon. Lady Da Vinci, you ready?”

“Of course! Don’t underestimate a genius!”

Da Vinci’s slightly proud voice sounded in his earpiece. Alaric couldn’t help but laugh, “That’s our genius secretary-Servant Da Vinci!”

…

Kadoc, of course, wanted to defeat Ivan the Terrible as well. As long as Ivan existed, the Fantasy Tree could not take root in the surface, nor expand.

But now it was different. The moment Ivan lost absolute authority—Anastasia, the princess of this snowy land, became the sole emperor of Russia.

She would now permit the existence of Losbelt.