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

The Lion King's plan to take humans with pure souls and preserve them as specimens for the future was something he could not accept.

"It seems you know a lot, but it's still not enough!"

Upon hearing this, Alaric was momentarily stunned.

"Am I still lacking something?"

"Death is fate. Though you have returned from death, your understanding of it remains shallow. If you wish to save humanity's future, you must first grasp the death and causality represented by humanity's incineration!"

Humanity's Incineration? I know about that, Alaric thought to himself. But seeing the grim skull mask of King Hassan, he abandoned the idea and followed along with King Hassan's words.

"King Hassan, how can I truly understand death?"

Compared to the incineration of humanity, the abstract concept of death was something Alaric found hard to grasp. Though the Mystic Eyes of Death Perception allowed him to see the death of all things, he only knew how to utilize them without truly understanding the "why."

"There is a temple in the desert, representing the ruler of the land of the dead, and a strange realm at its center. It lies beyond the reach of that Sun King. Buried beneath the sands is a treasury of knowledge, known as—Atlas Institute!"

"Once you've undergone the double trials and gained some understanding of death, return here."

As soon as he finished speaking, King Hassan's massive figure silently disappeared, leaving Alaric alone in front of the temple.

...

A wyvern flew across the sky, with Alaric sitting on its back, arms folded, constantly recalling King Hassan's words.

"Two trials? Is this my entry test?"

Alaric understood the situation in the desert well: the Sun King had entrenched himself there, and combined with Nitocris's presence, it would be challenging for him—a knight of the Lion King—to enter peacefully. Unlike Hassan, the Sun King and his people could not be reasoned with by taking refugees as hostages. Their factions had been opposed from the start.

"This is tough..."

Alaric bit his nails, his expression grim. If he could only receive King Hassan's teachings after passing the two trials and deepening his understanding of death, the challenge would be immense. And where exactly was the Atlas Institute?

Though King Hassan had mentioned it was in the center of the desert, Alaric still had no idea where that was.

While wrestling with these thoughts, Alaric's peripheral vision suddenly caught sight of a hidden village nestled among the mountains below, sparking an idea.

"Let's go take a look."

The wyvern beneath him immediately changed direction and swooped down!

As the wyvern neared the village, chaos erupted below. A tall, dark figure stood atop a high point, preparing to attack the incoming wyvern.

"Mr. Cursed Arm, it's me," Alaric's distant voice called to Cursed Arm Hassan, who immediately tensed up.

The wyvern landed steadily not far away, and Alaric stepped out onto its head.

"So it's Sir Alaric. Taming a wyvern as a mount is quite a feat," Cursed Arm Hassan said, his tone heavy as he watched Alaric approach the village. Though only hours had passed since they last parted, the pressure Alaric exuded had increased!

Noticing Cursed Arm Hassan's wary tone, Alaric smiled slightly. Seeing Cursed Arm Hassan's expression, he couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment, as if he had returned home in triumph.

"I have met the First Hassan."

Alaric's calm statement immediately changed Cursed Arm Hassan's expression.

"You really met that great one?"

"Thanks to your help, Mr. Cursed Arm, I managed to meet the First Hassan without trouble. But, of course, I can't share the details with you."

Alaric jumped down from the wyvern's head, and Cursed Arm Hassan became instantly alert.

"So, this is your village, huh?"

Alaric surveyed the surroundings—stone huts built along the slopes, with many people watching him and the wyvern in fear.

About a few dozen people, and their food supply seems adequate. Observing the healthy residents, including a few children, Alaric inferred the village's favorable living conditions.

"What is the meaning of this, Sir Alaric?"

Cursed Arm Hassan asked, his tall figure making Alaric seem somewhat small.

"Rest assured, Mr. Cursed Arm, I won't do anything to your village. After all, we have a deal, don't we?"

Alaric glanced at Cursed Arm Hassan. After his experience at the Azrael Temple, he had become more adept at controlling his power. With his successful release of magical energy, his confidence had grown. Besides, with only Cursed Arm Hassan present, Alaric felt even more certain of his advantage in a one-on-one confrontation.

At Alaric's assurance, Cursed Arm Hassan finally relaxed.

"So, what brings you to our village, Sir Alaric?"

"I was just passing by and thought I might run into you, so I came to take a look."

Alaric took full stock of the village. There was no magical energy present; it was hidden only by the natural advantage of the surrounding mountains. No threats were detected. Among the Mountain People, only a few of the Hassan posed a threat to Alaric, and once he passed the double trials, that threat would vanish.

After some casual conversation, Alaric, who had only stopped by out of curiosity, left, prompting Cursed Arm Hassan to start considering relocating the village.

...

Unlike the troubled Cursed Arm Hassan, Alaric resumed his journey, thrilled by the high-speed flight on the green wyvern! Unlike his earlier travels by horse, riding a wyvern allowed him to ignore the treacherous mountain terrain. In no time, he had left the mountain range behind, with the barren wilderness now in sight. From the sky, Alaric couldn't help but lament the desolation of the wasteland below. From this vantage point, he could see just how devastated the land had become—it was a wasteland, stripped of the basic conditions necessary to sustain life, leaving only ashes.

Suddenly—

A massive surge of magical energy erupted below, accompanied by a crimson beam shooting straight toward Alaric and his wyvern!

Seeing the torrent of light, Alaric's expression changed.

"A Noble Phantasm?!"

Without time to think, Alaric grabbed the wyvern's wing with one hand and leaped off, directly facing the torrent of light! With his gem-like Mystic Eyes, Alaric's face tightened as he spotted the death line within the torrent.

There it is!

The attack had come too suddenly; he had no time to dodge. His only option was to forcefully kill the torrent! But before he could reach the death line, an unbearable heat wave struck him! The air twisted, and everything in sight was engulfed in crimson. Deep within the torrent was a single death line!

Gritting his teeth, Alaric poured out magical energy, trying to shield himself from the scorching heat. In an instant, he consumed a massive amount of magical energy.

Zing—

With a clear sound, the death line was severed, and the torrent of light dissipated inch by inch as if it had never existed.

"Come!"

Alaric, his body glowing red, twisted in mid-air and grabbed hold of the green wyvern's claw, hanging from it. Looking down at the wasteland, he quickly locked onto a red-and-white figure below, staring up at him!

Meeting the figure's gaze, Alaric let go, allowing himself to free-fall.

Thud!

With a heavy thud, Alaric landed firmly on the ground. Thanks to his current physical condition, the height was still within his limits.

"So, it's you, Mordred. You sure have a peculiar way of saying hello."

Panting, Alaric, his upper body flushed red, glared at the culprit in the distance—Mordred. It was obvious that the blast of magical energy that nearly killed him had been Mordred's doing.

"Still alive, huh? If you died from something like that, how could you call yourself a personal knight of Father?"

Mordred swaggered over to Alaric.