Typemoon: Starting Out as the Lion King [142]

As Gawain fell, the radiant wall of light surrounding the Holy City began to dissipate. The grand and resplendent temple complex symbolizing Ozymandias' glory also shattered, falling from the sky like a meteor, crashing straight into the now unprotected holy capital.

Alaric stood motionless, staring blankly at the scene before him. He struggled to breathe, trying to let his dragon heart absorb magic from the air to recover, but the toll of his battle with Gawain was simply too immense.

The dragon heart, which had been pushed to its absolute limits, had swollen to an irreparable size. Each beat sent searing pain through Alaric, a pain that felt like it pierced his very soul.

The magic he could extract was now pitifully little, making it impossible for him to heal himself. Moreover, Alaric was deliberately reserving what little magic he had left for emergencies.

He could feel it—this world was collapsing. The end was rapidly approaching, and everything he had once seen and known was turning to ash in the wake of this tide of destruction.

In the end, only the Tower of the End, where the Lion King awaited, would remain.

How lonely it must be—

Without lingering further, Alaric casually picked up a long sword and continued on his path.

Toward the Tower of the End.

Before long, Alaric saw two figures that surprised him.

Much like his own battle with Gawain, two individuals were moving through the ruins of shattered Camelot, locked in fierce combat.

The Knight of the Lake, Lancelot, and the Lion King's adjutant, Agravain.

That Lancelot, hailed as the strongest knight, could fight Agravain to a draw was something Alaric would never have expected before.

Yet, this scene was unfolding before his very eyes.

Agravain, commanding countless knights, was locked in a blood-soaked battle with the lone Lancelot. Neither would stop until one—or both—had fallen.

"The Lion King's Wild Hunt?"

Narrowing his eyes, Alaric strained to discern what method Agravain had employed to achieve such extraordinary combat prowess, even rivaling Lancelot.

Arthur, transformed into the Storm King, was also rumored to be the King of the Wild Hunt, a leader of spectral knights who hunted the living—a legend whispered in folklore.

Though the true identity of the Wild Hunt's king had never been confirmed, if the current Lion King were to assume that mantle, surely the legendary Wild Hunt could be invoked.

Agravain had borrowed the power of the Wild Hunt, combined with his berserker state and enhancements from magical arrays, allowing his spiritual core to approach Lancelot's level—even matching him in battle!

After observing for a while, Alaric decisively averted his gaze. Agravain could be left to Lancelot; there was no need for Alaric to intervene.

In his current state, while Alaric could technically join the fight, it wasn't necessary.

For now, Alaric had only one goal—

The king atop that tower.

Fixing his gaze on the distant Tower of the End, Alaric felt the pure white king's eyes meet his own as if she were silently waiting.

...

Tap. Tap.

"Senpai, up ahead—that's the tower where the Lion King resides!"

Mash's voice rang out, her expression grave.

After countless battles and the sacrifices of many, they had finally reached this point. If they could defeat the Lion King, everything could return to normal!

"Keep moving forward!" Fujimaru Ritsuka said, her face equally serious. The closer they got to the final confrontation, the less they could afford to hesitate.

Bedivere pursed his lips in silence, a look of unease on his face, as if dreading the imminent meeting.

Da Vinci, on the other hand, was busy coordinating with Romani, confirming their next steps.

But as Fujimaru and Mash continued ascending the stairs to the tower's peak, an indescribable sense of dread gripped Fujimaru's heart. It felt as though an invisible hand had clenched tightly around her chest.

Almost simultaneously, both Fujimaru and Mash turned around, shock evident on their faces as they looked downward.

A figure, faintly exuding magic so weak it had escaped Romani's detection, appeared in the distance. Its life force was feeble, like a flickering flame on the verge of being extinguished.

Yet the overwhelming malice emanating from it was undeniable—a hatred directed at all living things. It was a being rejected by the natural order, an inhuman entity that sought to burn everything to ash.

For a moment, Fujimaru thought she wasn't looking at a person, but a mass of darkness—a kaleidoscopic aurora of black, formed from countless thoughts and emotions.

"Sir Alaric...?"

Mash's voice trembled, disbelief etched across her face.

At first glance, she had recognized the figure—it was none other than Alaric, the man who had parted ways with them to fight Gawain!

Everyone was stunned by Alaric's current condition.

Though his posture remained upright, large sections of his charred skin looked as if they had been scorched by fire, torn away to expose raw, bleeding muscle and bone.

More than half his body had been destroyed in battle. At this moment, Alaric looked like a candle flickering in the wind, ready to be snuffed out at any moment.

Yet, one thing remained unchanged—his eyes.

"What's the matter? You don't recognize me after just a little while?"

Using his sword as a crutch, Alaric forced a smile. "Hurry up, Sir Bedivere. The king is waiting for you."

Fujimaru and Mash had never seen Alaric in such a state before.

From the moment they had met, Alaric had always exuded an air of absolute strength and confidence, as if he had everything under control.

And his actions had consistently proven this to be true. Even now, when Fujimaru looked back on their journey, she realized that every challenge they had faced, Alaric had already overcome.

It was as if this singularity was a stage Alaric had long since cleared, with only one missing piece remaining.

"Sir Alaric! You need treatment!" Mash shouted, rushing to Alaric's side. She was flustered, unsure of what to do as she turned toward Da Vinci and Fujimaru for help.

Her eyes were filled with urgency.

Mash knew very well that Alaric was not a servant, but a living human. If he died here, there would be nothing left of him.

Even Da Vinci froze for a moment, holding her breath as if struck by the gravity of Alaric's resolve.

Bedivere, too, widened his eyes in shock. Alaric's presence could only mean one thing—Gawain had fallen. Yet Bedivere could never have imagined the battle would be so brutal.

"What are you waiting for?"

Alaric smiled as he gently pushed Mash aside, walking past her and Fujimaru as if he intended to face the king alone.

Seeing this, Fujimaru's expression hardened. She immediately turned to Mash and said, "Mash! Let's go—we need to move faster. Sir Alaric will be fine!"

"But—" Mash hesitated, wanting to say more, but seeing everyone pressing forward, she bit her lip and steeled herself.

She quickly ran forward, catching up to Alaric. With a determined shout, she called out:

"Sir Alaric!!!!"

"Huh?"

Caught off guard, Alaric suddenly found himself scooped up by Mash—who, perhaps considering his condition, decided to carry him in a princess carry.

Regardless of the posture, the act left Alaric completely dumbfounded.

What... what was happening?

It took an uncomfortably long time for Alaric's genius mind to process the situation. Glancing upward, he could see Mash's pale jawline and the faint scent of her presence.

Even without looking, he could imagine how utterly humiliating his current position must appear. Just as he was about to demand Mash put him down—

As if anticipating his thoughts, Mash leaned down and looked him straight in the eye.

"This won't do! Sir Alaric, please leave your body to me!"

"Ah!"

Realizing the embarrassment of her own words, Mash's fair cheeks flushed red.