Typemoon: Starting Out as the Lion King's Personal Knight [422] (Patreon)

With each step Alaric took, a pure white spiral staircase slowly extended from the void, leading toward the great cosmic tree at the end—its branches reaching into the river of stars.

By now, the Fantasy Tree Orochi had taken root and sprouted. The once tightly-sealed trunk now revealed its true form, gaping fangs unfurling with a thunderous roar.

The snowy-white trunk wasn’t truly pure; like the Pillars of Demonic Gods, countless human figures writhed and overlapped, forming its layers.

It was a sight like the Milky Way itself—an endless river of stars flowing within the trunk, almost as if it truly existed.

Though it was impossible to know if those stars were real, Alaric knew the true name of that galactic river—a galaxy sharing its name with the Fantasy Tree.

A monstrous system in Cetus, 12 billion light-years from Earth. Or perhaps Marisbury Animusphere’s ambitions were simply too grand, reaching for an event that would affect even 13 billion light-years.

But that was none of Alaric’s concern.

With growing composure, Alaric pressed onward, climbing the stairs despite the mounting pressure, until he stood before the blazing heart of the Fantasy Tree.

In a hidden corner, the alien priestess silently watched Alaric attempting to reach the impossible heights above.

She could have destroyed the Fantasy Tree herself, but she made no move—only watched, quietly anticipating his desire.

This scene did not escape the notice of Fujimaru Ritsuka and the others below.

In the hour before Alaric arrived, Ritsuka’s group had tried to breach the wall of light to uncover the source, and even considered felling the Fantasy Tree to end this Lostbelt.

But the aurora enveloping the tree proved as troublesome as the wall of light itself.

It was the Ars Nova—an ongoing phenomenon that greatly hindered their actions against the tree.

For now, perhaps only Musashi had the power to cut through that wall of light—but—

As she watched Alaric climb ever higher, Musashi frowned and gripped her sword tighter.

She had little opinion on Alaric’s actions.

If this was what Alaric wanted, she would support him.

What truly concerned Musashi was where Alaric’s path would ultimately lead—

Was it rebirth?

Or despair?

Even Musashi, who had crossed many worlds and witnessed countless sights, could not answer.

“Really now—” she murmured, gazing at his back as he ascended the spectral stairs. “Aren’t you being a little too bold?”

Like Musashi, both Ritsuka and Mash watched Alaric, who seemed on the verge of touching the heavens.

Mash, who had meant to dissuade Alaric, was stopped by Ritsuka.

Flustered and at a loss, Mash exclaimed, “Senpai! Isn’t Sir Alaric doing something terrible?”

“Mash, calm down.”

Though her own heart was racing and her temperature rising, Ritsuka—her anxiety only barely restrained by her Mystic Code—could not hide her sweat.

Like Mash, Ritsuka felt powerless before the situation and wanted to prevent this tragedy.

But there was no solution.

This was the outcome Holmes had shared with them not long ago.

“Ritsuka, though Sir Alaric hasn’t appeared yet, I must tell you in advance,” Holmes’s voice crackled in her ear. “This is an event akin to the Incineration of Humanity. I’ll spare you the details—here’s the result:

We cannot affect the process or its conclusion. All we can do is ensure we aren't swept up in it.”

When the aurora rose over Russia, Holmes immediately realized this was unstoppable—Alaric now stood at the victor’s table.

It was similar to the defeat of Demon God King Goetia, yet fundamentally different.

The miracles wielded by humanity are divided into magecraft, rituals, mysteries, and curses.

Above these are the powers held by gods, but the Incineration of Humanity belongs to none of them. To destroy the world, a human surpassed even divine authority.

Goetia, after Solomon’s death, began laying his plans in the Time Temple outside the universe, and detonated them upon reaching the future.

If not for Chaldea’s Rayshift technology, it would have been impossible to correct the singularities and ultimately thwart Goetia in the Time Temple.

The most crucial point was Romani Archaman’s sacrifice. As Solomon, he used his First Noble Phantasm to erase Goetia’s deeds at their root.

Thus, Goetia’s plan, begun 3,000 years ago, was void from the start. The Incineration of Humanity could not be solved in the usual way.

Now, though Alaric adopted a method similar to the Demon God King, there was a fundamental difference.

After the aurora appeared, the Shadow Border submarine kept receiving new, inexplicable information, contradicting all data from the previous days.

Since landing in the Lostbelt with the help of the Berserker’s connection, Chaldea had only been adventuring within a blank world.

These new records were only stored in the Moon Cell, never surfacing in memory.

It was bizarre, but Holmes and Da Vinci deduced that Alaric intended to shatter the Russian Lostbelt within recent time.

No one knew how Alaric twisted its history, but it likely involved a Holy Grail, mirroring Goetia’s detonation of human history.

Goetia’s incineration used the Demon Pillars’ gaze, but the crucial distortion was triggered by the Grail.

Surviving the incineration required power to withstand the burning light—without it, survival was impossible.

Yet, the aurora covering Russia was the collective force of the Yaga—who could not refuse its power.

Even Ivan the Terrible could not stop it.

Using a coronation in the future, the past world was leveraged.

Thus began the incineration, extending and reclaiming toward the future.

The resulting energy was immense—if controlled, it might rival Goetia’s Ars Nova.

Beyond the sheer heat, the theoretical feasibility was shocking.

Though Holmes could guess why Alaric sought such power, he couldn’t help but be curious—

Curious why Da Vinci would help.

There was no reason to stop Alaric; his actions didn’t conflict with Chaldea’s.

If Da Vinci, whom Alaric left behind, chose to help, she must have considered all this.

If she still chose to help Alaric, then Holmes was sure—Da Vinci, with all her knowledge, saw Alaric as extreme in method, but unchanged at his core.

And so it was.

Alaric’s approach to the Lostbelt was radical, but the goal—its destruction—was the same as Chaldea’s.

As Holmes pondered, the new Chaldea director aboard Shadow Border was already shaking like a leaf.

Goredorf had been anxious for an hour, and seeing Alaric’s arrival pushed him to the peak of terror.

His trembling body was drenched in sweat, face deathly pale as he stammered, “Is Chaldea… actually an evil organization?”

“Did I make a mistake?”

“Or did Koyanskaya trick me again?”

Even his hand holding the teacup shook uncontrollably, his panic uncontainable.

Nearby, even the idle Meunièrecouldn’t calm him.

To Goredorf, Alaric was now a member of Chaldea—having helped correct several Singularities as an unofficial agent.

Goredorf believed correcting Lostbelts was right—even if Alaric slaughtered everyone in them, he wouldn’t mind.

But that wasn’t the issue.

The real issue was—

Da Vinci-chan: “Beep beep beep beep.

Spirit origin confirmed—[Beast];

Something other than the Seven Evils of Humanity!”

Hearing the broadcast again, Goredorf finally lost it, shouting, “Just what is with your other self? Genius or madman?”

What kind of person would even work with Alaric?!

Goredorf simply couldn’t understand.

“Hey, don’t people always say there’s a fine line between genius and madness?” Da Vinci-chan, in the control room, joked. “Sir Alaric working with my other self isn’t so strange—after all, I am a genius too! No difference at all!”

“If there’s no difference, then I’m doomed!”

Goredorf raised his trembling hand, trying to sip his tea but missing his mouth. Frustrated, he put the cup down. “If the Clock Tower finds out about people like this in Chaldea, I’ll be held responsible as director—maybe even sealed away!”

Knowing Alaric was a Beast, Goredorf saw only a bleak, uncertain future.

“Relax, relax. At worst, we’ll just update the records—again!” Da Vinci-chan laughed. “We’ve got plenty of experience with that!”

“So you did tamper with the records! I knew it!”

Goredorf gritted his teeth. “You changed Alaric’s information, didn’t you?!”

He’d only learned of Alaric’s existence after their first meeting, and only discovered the full details during their escape.

Chaldea really didn’t seem like a legitimate organization at all!

Leaving the submarine’s antics aside, outside, the last surviving Yaga—always separate from Chaldea—watched.

Patxi stared blankly at the man soaring above.

He knew Alaric; in the past three months, he’d encountered him several times while hunting.

Over time, they became acquaintances.

But Patxi couldn’t understand the situation—even after Ritsuka explained, confusion and unease lingered.

Would this world really end like this?

High in the heavens, Alaric finally reached the end.

Above, the sky was vast and mysterious—a fragrance belonging to the Age of Gods, a world unknown before human wisdom began.

Alaric’s face was calm as he gazed at the silent, towering tree ahead.

The Fantasy Tree was the anchor of the Lostbelt; as long as it existed, the Lostbelt would not vanish.

But the concept of existence was vague—it didn’t need to retain its original form to persist; even if merged with others or reduced to remains, it still existed.

Burning it alone would only change its scale, allowing it to continue sustaining the Lostbelt.

Thus, Alaric needed to not only burn it, but further strip away the light.

He slowly raised his hand, solemnly proclaiming to the world:

 “I declare—the world has ended. The history of the Yaga is no more.

The Tsar is dead. The princess has departed. These 450 years of the Lostbelt end here.

But what awaits you is not pruning’s end. Life is meant to end, a pilgrimage of accumulated suffering.

But this is not a tale of death or severance. Watch closely, last of the Yaga—this is your brilliance—”

The dazzling aurora covering all Russia gathered and spun, lifting from the ground and forming a ribbon of light high above.

The radiant aurora spun around the Phantasmal Tree, forming a shining ring in the endless blue sky, gazing down upon the world.

Rumble!

The Fantasy Tree, which had been rooting itself for an hour, now roared as if shaken to its core!

Crack, crack, crack!

Visible fissures raced across its crystalline surface as the phantasm shattered.

Yet the tree did not collapse, but instead sank into the engulfing aurora, becoming its engine!

A thin film of light spread beneath, forming a crystalline platform, the swirling aurora rising and falling before Alaric.

A mysterious ritual unfolded. By devouring the phantasm, a crown of light gradually took shape before Alaric.

Emitting infinite radiance, its form was barely visible—only a faint halo.

Perhaps it could be called the history of the Yaga, the sum of their existence.

It was also the memory of the planet—an extraordinary existence. As magical energy, it might be insufficient, but as the memory of the world, it was transcendent.

Naturally, before the witness of heaven and earth, the child of man had grown to coronation’s age.

With Da Vinci’s great ritual, not seeking the Root but his own origin, blood and bone were engraved into the soul, granting a human the authority to permit the existence of the non-human.

To allow the birth of beastly form, the flow of mystery.

Thus, he became a king spanning Heaven, Earth, and Man.

The Son of Man, grown in an iron cradle.

This was the true nature of the Coronation—

Years had passed since meeting the King. The first seed planted that day had only now truly sprouted.

The Yaga’s history was one of beasts and men—of hardship.

It was the story of non-humans and humans alike, and the radiance born from this story was the truest brilliance.

Ivan the Terrible’s 450 years of obsession, a monster for 450 years, the soil made from the king of beasts.

A dragon’s song echoed in the aurora, reaching the highest heavens and the deepest underworld.

Pressure from a high being arrived quietly, but faded like a gentle breeze—a fleeting dream.

“What is that—?”

Ritsuka’s eyes narrowed at the change. She’d never heard it, but an answer rose from her heart.

“It’s a dragon, Ritsuka. There—a dragon—” Da Vinci-chan, already observing the grown form, explained. “Born from the same source as Sir Alaric, it is his other half—the Dragon.”

Alaric’s dragon blood was already common knowledge in Chaldea.

But non-human bloodlines were normal among Divine Spirits—ogre, dragon, godly blood coursed through many powerful Heroic Spirits.

Their heroism was not from their blood, but because of who they were.

Those with non-human blood—demi-gods—were rare.

Separating or manifesting one’s other half—

At some point, Da Vinci-chan had also left the control room and now stood on deck, gazing upward.

With the dragon’s resonant cry, a form of pure light appeared—a dragon, but not of the Western mysteries.

This was the Eastern Dragon, the one worshipped in the land of thought and magecraft.

Lord of scaled creatures, able to hide or reveal, to shrink or grow, to ascend in spring, to dive in autumn.

Its horns resemble a deer, its head a camel, eyes a rabbit, neck a snake, belly a clam, scales a fish, claws an eagle, palms a tiger, ears a cow.

Eighty-one scales on its back..

Its roar like clashing bronze, whiskers by its mouth, a pearl under its chin, a reverse scale at its throat.

Its breath forms clouds; it can become water or fire.

Its outstretched wings shimmered with endless light, dreamlike and illusory.

The dragon circling above was a genuine True Dragon.

“A divine-level Dragon. Even as a lesser divinity, it’s an incredible feat—” Holmes, ever learned, immediately discerned its nature.

To Alaric, the Dragon was only his other half—the Beast’s form.

It began as the red dragon’s blood from Britain, nurtured until it became such a colossal being.

But the connection was never severed; even as the Son of Man grew, his bond to the King was a chain linking their souls.

The dragon was no longer external, but truly part of him.

He was no longer a wanderer in this world—even as an enemy, he belonged.

In the past, the Lion King Artoria’s blessing of dragon blood transformed Alaric, giving him the lineage of Britain’s red dragon and a place here.

But it wasn’t enough.

The blessing was only external; his soul hadn’t accepted it. This changed after obtaining the Greater Grail.

When the Greater Grail opened the [hole] to his soul’s root, Alaric was poised to achieve the Third Magic—like Kiara Sessyoin’s Materialization of the Soul.

But materializing the soul means reconstructing the body—a perfect form shaped by an immortal soul.

In doing so, his bond with the departed King, symbolized by the red dragon’s blood, would be erased.

To the soul, the red dragon’s blood was a flawed foreign object.

A perfect being has no need for the non-human.

The self has no need for anything beyond itself.

That was a dead end—so, Alaric gave it up.

With the help of the primordial goddess Tiamat, he abandoned the Third Magic, acting with one foot in the realm of the Third.

This time, he would not let go.

Clinging to his first bond, he would reach the Third Magic.

High in the sky, Alaric gazed at the dragon’s shadow weaving through the light, a smile on his lips.

This was not the end—only the beginning.

The Dragon born of the Coronation still needed to grow; how long before it rivaled Ivan the Terrible was unknown.

But more important was Alaric himself.

He raised his hands, eyes sweeping over the scarlet restraints—chains now shattering before his eyes.

Late, but finally begun.

The Third Magic: Cup of Heaven—the Materialization of the Soul.

All Alaric needed now was time and enough information, and he could complete it.

With the soul’s perpetual motion as infinite energy;

With the immortal soul as a template, to create a perfect body.

Rumble!

The moment the Fantasy Tree collapsed, the storm wall at the world’s end began to dissipate.

The light band that once circled the phantasm now soared visibly upward, as if reaching for the endless sky.

Alaric watched as the light reached its peak.

Just like before, the band stood at the sky’s end, covering the stars!

‘This is—’

Ritsuka’s eyes widened as she watched the light ascend. She recalled the sky Alaric split in Shinjuku’s pseudo-singularity—where did that infinite blue come from?

Not the past—but the future!

Two bands of light, representing Goetia and Alaric, the two Beasts—

Not only Ritsuka, but Holmes and Da Vinci, seeing this, sighed.

“Well, looks like we’ll be busy, Da Vinci,” Holmes commented.

Da Vinci grinned sheepishly. “Genius ideas are always unpredictable, after all.”

“Because I’m a genius—”