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

"That was too easy?"

Alaric couldn't bring himself to celebrate his success after a single strike. It felt suspiciously effortless. Holmes hadn't even pretended to struggle, guiding Alaric straight to the sand dune without encountering any obstacles along the way.

It was as if he had been here before.

"Mr. Holmes, this—"

Alaric gestured toward the deep pit below. Holmes caught on quickly and smiled.

"Sir Alaric, you're already aware of the existence of Singularities, aren't you?"

At those words, Alaric's eyes narrowed slightly, and he nodded in acknowledgment.

Holmes continued, "I took on a commission within a particular Singularity to investigate the cause of a disaster, which is how I ended up here. As for how I knew the location of the Atlas Institute, it was simply a matter of deduction based on available clues."

"Elementary, my friend."

After Holmes finished speaking, Alaric instinctively smacked his lips. He hadn't fully grasped the reasoning behind that deduction. Holmes's thought process was still far beyond his comprehension.

After Nitocris used her familiars to scout the area below and confirmed it was safe, the three of them jumped into the pit.

A silent tunnel stretched out before them, dim candlelight flickering in the darkness as moss-covered stone walls extended far into the distance.

"This is the Atlas Institute?"

Alaric glanced around, having expected the knowledge vault that King Hassan revered—the Atlas Institute—to look like an ultra-futuristic structure. He hadn't anticipated something that resembled an ancient, dilapidated cellar.

The air, however, was surprisingly fresh, with none of the stale, musty decay common in long-sealed spaces. It seemed there was some form of ventilation connecting to the outside world.

"Is this the anomaly that the Pharaoh spoke of?"

Each of the three had a different reaction. As someone on a mission, Nitocris immediately summoned her familiars to relay information back to the Holy City and inform Ozymandias.

"Considering the Atlas Institute dates back to the pre-Medieval era, this style is quite normal," Holmes remarked, puffing on his pipe as he kindly explained to Alaric.

"Mr. Holmes, you seem rather knowledgeable about the Atlas Institute. Could you explain to me what exactly it is?"

Alaric asked bluntly, not hiding his curiosity.

Holmes lit his pipe and smiled.

"What exactly is the Atlas Institute? That's a good question, Sir Alaric."

"It's an academy of alchemists, located in another Atlas Mountain in Egypt. Also known as The Titan's Pit, it's one of the three main branches of the Mage's Association, called the Institute of Aggregation and Analysis."

Taking a light puff, Holmes continued under Alaric's attentive gaze.

"Unlike modern alchemy, which has become mainstream since the Middle Ages, the alchemists here sought to uncover the origins of magic and the principles governing the world. Despite being magi, they were a group of apprentices without magic circuits. Naturally, they concluded that, in studying magic, they couldn't rely on magical energy but would instead rely on large quantities of tools. Their approach resembles scientific development; they use pseudo-spiritual particles to observe souls as measurable energy and even create lifeforms with magic circuits—what we call homunculi."

"They've advanced to the point of creating life? Could they, for instance, transform a human body into another creature at will?"

Alaric asked, intrigued by Holmes's explanation.

Holmes's description reminded him of his encounter with Maggie and Alaika earlier. Were they using this type of alchemy?

"Indeed, such feats are possible. The alchemy of the Atlas Institute has reached the pinnacle of human knowledge," Holmes said with a slight chuckle.

"Their motto is: 'We don't need to become the strongest; we just need to create the strongest.' Following this creed, the alchemists of the Atlas Institute have created countless weapons."

"As the rumors in the world of mystery go, the Atlas Institute has produced seven weapons capable of destroying the world."

"Of course, at a certain point, they recognized their limits and sealed these weapons away."

Weapons capable of destroying the world? Just how powerful were these creations?

Alaric's breath hitched slightly, though he kept his expression neutral and continued listening.

"The reason they created such weapons remains a mystery to this day—a riddle still unsolved in the world of mystery."

"Regardless, this place is an unparalleled repository of magical artifacts. In reality, though, it's more like a junkyard. The alchemists of Atlas continuously invent and discard failed works, leading to an accumulation of terrifying weapons."

As they chatted, the three moved deeper into the tunnel, their conversation punctuated only by the crackling of candle flames and the oppressive silence.

"Something's approaching—"

Alaric, in the lead, halted abruptly, his gaze fixed on the depths of the tunnel. Clear magical energy fluctuations emanated from farther within, and there were many of them. The air trembled as if some massive entity was drawing near.

Soon, three strange, giant mechanical figures emerged from the darkness.

Suspended about half a meter above the ground as if defying gravity, the three massive, three-meter-tall machines seemed to lock eyes with Alaric. Their entire forms were a bluish-green, appearing to be composed of countless cubic blocks, giving them a mysterious mechanical appearance.

"It seems the defense systems are still operational. Fortunately, I came along with Sir Alaric!"

Holmes smiled, retreating behind Nitocris.

"At the moment, my presence is unstable, so I can't fight. I'll have to rely on Sir Alaric's strength!"

'So he wants to see my abilities, huh?'

'Then I can't use my Mystic Eyes of Death Perception.'

Without turning around, Alaric understood Holmes's intentions the moment he claimed he couldn't fight. Holmes simply wanted to gauge Alaric's current strength. The single punch that had shattered the sand hadn't provided enough information; he needed Alaric to reveal more of his abilities.

A perfectly open and honest ploy.

Alaric smirked as he drew his sword. He called out, "Mr. Holmes! Where are these constructs' weak points?"

From what he could tell, these automated defense systems had exceptionally high defenses, and the magic they emitted was no weaker than his own. Finishing them off quickly in such a narrow space would be a challenge.

Alaric's current combat style was overly aggressive, and with unknown security measures possibly still in place, his best strategy was to find and exploit the constructs' weak points.

Identifying those weaknesses would require extensive magical knowledge—knowledge he didn't possess. Fortunately—

"Sir Alaric, I'll need a moment to observe—"

Standing beside him was none other than the world-renowned detective, Sherlock Holmes!

"Got it! Miss Nitocris!"

With Holmes's response, Alaric wasted no time. His feet slammed into the ground with a dull thud.

With an explosive sound, Alaric shot forward like a leopard, charging at the approaching automated defense systems.

"O Mirror of the Underworld—Reveal your power!"

Nitocris, holding her Scepter, struck the ground heavily. The pitch-black mirror that spread out seemed to swallow all light in its path.