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

The chilling presence surrounding the shrine was all too familiar to Alaric, much like the sensation of death that frequently appeared when he wielded his Mystic Eyes of Death Perception.

'Looks like I've come to the right place!'

Alaric raised his hand, signaling the wyvern to retreat, and advanced toward the shrine alone.

The green wyvern, already terrified of the shrine, seized the chance to flee to the opposite mountain as if granted a reprieve.

Alaric, however, had already reached the entrance of the Azrael Shrine and took his first step into its domain. An even stronger force of death surged toward him, enveloping him in a sensation that felt like both physical and mental annihilation.

Tumble—

Cold sweat dripped as Alaric dropped to one knee, instinctively clutching his chest, his expression filled with shock. For a moment, it felt as though he had truly died.

Whoosh—

A chilling wind swept past, prickling his skin as he knelt on the ground.

"What... is that?"

Though no footsteps sounded, Alaric could sense something approaching from within the shrine.

It was staring at him!

Realizing he was being watched by an unseen presence, Alaric quickly stood up and backed away.

'How could I not detect anyone?'

Alaric cursed inwardly.

From the depths of the shrine, ten pitch-black figures emerged—massive humanoid skeletons cloaked in a layer of dark, glistening liquid, moving like wraiths.

"Is this a test?"

Alaric wiped the sweat from his forehead, his gaze locked onto the central wraith. Its aura was so powerful he couldn't ignore it. The magical energy it emitted even exceeded Serenity!

Faced with such an opponent, Alaric decisively unsheathed his sword, hesitating only briefly before deciding not to activate his Mystic Eyes of Death Perception. He couldn't be sure that the death he would perceive in this strange shrine would be familiar.

Without further exchange, the ten wraiths rushed toward him in unison, and the leading wraith let out a sharp, piercing scream.

"—!"

The scream was so sharp it felt like it would tear apart his eardrums, causing his movements to falter. That brief pause was all the opening the wraiths needed to close in!

In an instant, blood splattered. Alaric barely blocked with his longsword as he was sent flying backward.

The wraiths were masters of timing, each attack leaving Alaric no room to counter!

Forced into a defensive stance, he continued to retreat—even stepping out of the shrine's boundaries—but the wraiths relentlessly pursued, giving him no chance to catch his breath.

'There are too many of them!'

Alaric realized that the sheer number of wraiths, combined with their coordinated attacks, was overwhelming him. Even with his considerable skills, he couldn't keep up!

Their teamwork left no gaps for him to exploit. Even if he used his Mystic Eyes, it would be impossible to quickly take down a wraith to reduce their numbers—unless he could wipe them all out at once!

His pupils contracted as he recalled a scene from not long ago—the radiant brilliance unleashed by the Lion King. It hadn't been the release of a Noble Phantasm, but simply a burst of magical energy that wrought unimaginable destruction.

Alaric began focusing on releasing his magical energy. Gathering half of his remaining energy at the tip of his sword, he prepared to unleash it in a single stroke.

'This might work!'

This strike would decide the outcome. As he gathered his magical energy, the lead wraith noticed and began to mimic him, accumulating its energy!

However, Alaric, who possessed the heart of a dragon, channeled magical energy far more efficiently than the wraiths. He was already a step ahead.

Just as the wraith's claws were about to reach him—

"It's too late!"

BOOM!

A torrent of crimson energy roared like thunder, striking the earth. The heat, intense enough to melt metal, instantly engulfed the wraiths, vaporizing them completely.

When the energy subsided, the ground before Alaric was scorched black, with molten rocks slowly flowing. Alaric collapsed to the ground, utterly exhausted. The longsword in his hand had evaporated in the release of magical energy.

'Damn... that was exhausting.'

Alaric gasped for breath. Although he had only mimicked the energy discharge from the Lion King and Sun King's battle, it had already placed a tremendous burden on him. With less than a third of his energy remaining, it would take about two hours for his dragon heart to fully replenish it.

Until then—

Alaric gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stand and straighten as he walked toward the Azrael Shrine.

Dong—

A bell tolled softly, echoing through the empty valley. Hearing the bell, Alaric's dragon blood surged, his energy flaring, prompting him to open his Mystic Eyes of Death Perception!

'Is that... death?'

Alaric stared intently at the shrine before him. Countless death lines converged, forming a human shape. Just gazing at that figure made his mind roar with intensity.

"Born from death, one who bears the fate of the mountain, your voice has been heard. Your desire to save humanity's future has been acknowledged by my sword. However—those who enter my shrine must first face death!"

"As the dead, to claim the right to live, you must undergo this ritual to summon the one who stands before you!"

A deep voice echoed as magical energy spread from the shrine. Alaric wiped his nose, finding blood on his fingers—the price of staring directly at death!

'Less than half a minute of gazing had this much effect. The First Hassan truly is—'

But there was no time for reflection. A massive shadow emerged from the shrine, its magical energy shaking the very atmosphere! Though it resembled the earlier wraiths, its size was smaller, yet the energy it emitted was on a completely different level.

"Fight!"

Faced with this opponent, Alaric's fighting spirit surged. His slit pupils, glowing like gemstones, locked onto the figure's death. In a one-on-one, Alaric was confident in his chances of victory.

'My remaining energy won't last for a prolonged battle. I'll settle this in one strike!'

Bang!

With a flash of crimson lightning, Alaric disappeared from his original position, pouring all his energy into one strike, moving with the speed of a thunderbolt.

Squelch—

Suddenly, Alaric, now holding his spare dagger, drove it through the death line of the shadow's body. It was none other than Cursed Arm Hassan's dagger. As the shadow dissipated, the deep voice spoke again.

"The Mystic Eyes that perceive death... One who has touched death must surely be among the dead—Welcome to my shrine. I am the Old Man of the Mountain—Hassan-i-Sabbah!"

No longer a vague form of death, the Old Man of the Mountain appeared in his true form. Standing at an imposing two meters, his massive frame clad in armor, he leaned on his sword. Beneath his skeletal mask, it seemed there was nothing but emptiness.

"Nice to meet you. What should I call you?"

Alaric asked casually, though cold sweat continued to bead on his forehead. The Old Man's presence was even more overwhelming now that he had fully materialized.

"I have no name. Call me as you wish," the Old Man's mask flickered with eerie soul fire, swaying without wind.

"You've pledged allegiance to the fallen god, the Lion King, yet you harbor doubts. O faithless knight, what is it that you seek?"

"King Hassan, I wish to learn the art of assassination and the mystery of death from you," Alaric said boldly, his heart pounding. He had come too far to turn back now.

"You are indeed greedy. Having lived through death, you do not appreciate the beauty of life, yet you choose to embrace death instead."

To Alaric's surprise, he detected a hint of mockery in the Old Man's deep tone.

"The end of the world is approaching. The future envisioned by the pure white ruler—the Lion King—is not the salvation I seek. Humanity's future should not stagnate here."

To Alaric, the continuation of human history was bound to his survival.