Typemoon: Starting Out as the Lion King's Personal Knight

"You're late, third-rate—" Mordred didn't look at Bedivere. In her final moments before dissipating, her gaze remained fixed on Alaric.

As that lingering warmth left her cheek, Mordred's consciousness faded into silence.

The Round Table Knight—Mordred, was defeated.

Watching Mordred's disappearing figure, Alaric also understood that the six months they had spent together had now become memories.

If he were to meet Mordred again in the future, it would be the same person, yet also a different one.

"So what do you think, Sir Bedivere? Should we move forward, or stay where we are?"

Alaric sheathed the Sword of the End, glancing at Bedivere, who stood not far away.

Alaric had made no effort to hide his conversation with Mordred. Those present could hear everything, and Alaric was curious to know the opinion of Bedivere, a knight of King Arthur.

"————"

After a moment of silence, Bedivere said slowly, "Heroic Spirits are but echoes of the past; they should not linger on the earth. Mordred—she is no exception."

"And what about you, Sir Bedivere? The reason Mordred made it this far was her wish to die as a knight of the king, to fulfill the regrets she left behind in life.

Even if this king is no longer a king."

Alaric's words touched a painful subject for Bedivere, making the already heavy atmosphere even more somber.

Bedivere stared at the spot where Mordred once stood, slowly raising his right arm as he spoke:

"My right arm is the endpoint of loyalty, the irrefutable proof of my sin. My dream was the king's radiant figure, one that existed solely to save those who walked alone—"

"You mean the King's Excalibur?"

Alaric interrupted him abruptly.

"Huh?"

Bedivere, who had been so serious, was suddenly at a loss. He looked at Alaricin in confusion, completely thrown off.

Seeing his reaction, Alaric smiled. "I'm looking forward to seeing you meet the king, Sir Bedivere. Only you can help the king rediscover the heart that Sir Gawain and the others once knew.

Not the king I know—"

After Bedivere had spoken his purpose aloud, Alaric didn't linger much longer. He joined the conflicted Bedivere in heading off to rendezvous with Fujimaru Ritsuka and the others.

...

On a distant hill.

Mash and Fujimaru Ritsuka gazed down at the ravaged village, now in ruins. Under Mordred's Noble Phantasm, much of it had already been destroyed.

If Alaric hadn't defeated Mordred and nullified her Noble Phantasm, the entire mountain might have been vaporized—along with Fujimaru Ritsuka and the others.

"Mordred's Spirit Origin has been confirmed destroyed, Senpai—"

There was a hint of bitterness in Mash's voice. After all, she had once fought alongside Mordred in London. Even though this Mordred lacked those memories, to Mash, she still resembled an old comrade.

Witnessing Mordred being struck down by Alaric's sword stirred sadness in Mash's heart.

["So fast—Sir Alaric is a superhuman!"]

Even Romani was stunned by Alaric's efficiency. In less than ten minutes since meeting Mordred, he had already dealt with a knight of the Round Table!

Such incredible speed!

With Lancelot's defection, three of the six remaining knights of the Round Table had now been lost! Only Gawain, Tristan, and the yet-unseen Agravain remained. For the first time, Romani felt a glimmer of hope for victory.

With Ozymandias' help—

They could win!

The calculations for success raced through Romani's mind, and he clenched his coffee cup in excitement. "Miss Mash, seriously, stop charging into everything so recklessly."

When they regrouped, Alaric teased Mash with a smile:

"Earlier, when Mordred unleashed her Noble Phantasm, you suddenly jumped in front of me. You gave me a scare!"

"Ah—"

Mash scratched her head awkwardly, smiling in embarrassment.

After seeing Alaric's decisive strike, she realized her actions had been unnecessary.

Even so, she wouldn't stop protecting others.

"Sir Alaric, does this mean you've fully acknowledged us now?"

Fujimaru Ritsuka asked with a cheerful smile.

Alaric's earlier declaration had left a deep impression on her. The comparison of methods to save humanity's future had been on Fujimaru's mind. But now, with Mordred defeat, she believed she had her answer.

Without a doubt, Alaric would stand by their side.

"Does this mean I've boarded a pirate ship?"

Alaric chuckled, dispelling the heavy atmosphere left behind by Mordred's defeat.

After a brief chat with Fujimaru and the others, Alaric noticed the distant figures of Cursed Arm Hassan and his group departing.

"Hey, Hundred-Faced Hassan, how's the village doing?"

Alaric greeted them warmly as he noticed someone familiar in the group with Cursed Arm and Arash.

"Ahhhh!! You're insane, aren't you?! Cursed Arm! Dealing with one Round Table knight was bad enough—why are there three now?!"

Hundred-Faced Hassan yelled in disbelief when she saw the figures on the hill.

Cursed Arm had barely earned the Hasan clan's trust when it came to Alaric, a single Round Table knight. Now, with two more added to the mix, how could Hundred-Faced Hassan trust them after the attack they had just suffered?

"Well, we'll explain later. Anyway, with Cursed Arm vouching for me, you can relax, Hundred-Faced. Worst-case scenario, we all die together."

Without wasting time arguing, Alaric dismissed Hundred-Faced Hassan's complaints with a wave of his hand and added:

"Of course, if you still have doubts, come to me. I'll handle it."

Seeing Alaric's confidence, Hundred-Faced Hassan dropped the subject, though her wary gaze lingered on Fujimaru and the others.

Alaric ignored her suspicions. After glancing at everyone present, he spoke:

"I defeated Mordred. The king will surely be aware of this, but she won't act on it—because her plan is nearly complete."

His words sent a chill through everyone present. Even Romani couldn't help but speak up:

["You mean the plan to construct the Tower?!"]

"Yes. With the repeated Holy Selection, the king has gathered enough pure souls. Soon, she will raise the Holy Lance and sever this world from the planet itself.

When that happens, human history will collapse completely, and a new humanity, a millennium-long kingdom of pure white, will be born."

Knowing there was no turning back, Alaric spoke resolutely.

But his revelation only made Fujimaru and the others feel a deeper sense of urgency. Even the air seemed to grow heavier, burdened with tension.

Alaric's words left no doubt in their minds. Time was running out. The Lion King would not wait for them to prepare before taking the final step.

"Then we have to move faster—"

Fujimaru muttered under her breath.

Time was slipping away, and the Lion King was an unprecedented enemy. Coupled with the looming deadline, immense pressure weighed down on Fujimaru's shoulders.

Still, she refused to show it.