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

MC Name Change:

Kenshi ==> Alaric (Voting winner)

The long night stretched endlessly, yet Serenity's heart could not find peace.

And all because of the scene before her—

Alaric led the horse while the Ansari family sat atop the black steed, barely daring to breathe. This absurd scene had persisted for several hours, ever since they'd left the stone forest.

"Ah! I see them—"

Alaric raised his hand to his brow, squinting into the distance. Across the vast wasteland, a long column of people appeared, led by a knight clad in purple armor, his cape fluttering in the wind.

It was Lancelot, the Knight of the Round Table, who had parted ways with Gawain.

Alaric had no idea where Gawain and the others had gone, but he figured he could take his chances on the road to the Holy City. And evidently, luck was on his side today. He had stumbled upon Lancelot, stationed with a group of refugees.

"Miss Serenity, I hope you'll keep quiet for a bit and remain calm."

A few minutes later—

"Sir Lancelot! What a coincidence!"

Alaric greeted him as if they were old friends.

"And this lovely lady is…?"

Lancelot glanced at Alaric, then his gaze fell upon Serenity. In an instant, he sensed the spiritual presence emanating from her.

Serenity, on the other hand, tensed up completely, unable to move. It wasn't just the oppressive aura from Lancelot; it was also the presence of the dozens of refugees.

"This is Miss Serenity," Alaric introduced her with a smile.

"Like you, Sir Lancelot, she is also a Heroic Spirit."

"By the way, Sir Lancelot, are you leading these people to the Holy City, or somewhere else? Surely not all of them have been chosen by the Holy Selection?"

Alaric's eyes swept over the group of resting refugees, his tone casual.

Lancelot frowned slightly, unsure of what to make of the knight standing before him. Alaric had become a knight of the Lion King before the Lion King summoned the Knights of the Round Table. He was not a Heroic Spirit but a living being, one imbued with the dragon's blood by the king. All these factors combined to form Alaric's unique status.

"Sir Lancelot, there's no need to look at me like that. The handling of the unchosen is entirely your prerogative. I wish to find a place for this family to settle."

With that, Alaric helped the exhausted Ansari family down from the horse.

"Of course, please check if they qualify for the Holy Selection."

Lancelot shook his head.

"None of them are qualified for the Holy Selection."

Alaric sighed in regret.

"What a shame. Then they will have to join the ranks of the unchosen."

After settling the Ansari family, Alaric turned his attention to Serenity, who stood not far away.

"Miss Serenity, what do you think?"

At this moment, not only the Ansari family but the dozens of refugees had become hostages of sorts. This was part of Alaric's plan: to use the safety of the refugees to pressure Serenity into compromising. It was a perfectly straightforward strategy.

If he had encountered Gawain instead, things would not have gone so smoothly, and conflict would have been unavoidable. Moreover, that would have surely strained his relationship with Serenity and the Old Man of the Mountain's sect behind her.

Seeing that Serenity remained silent, Alaric didn't press further and continued his conversation with Lancelot.

After some back-and-forth, Alaric finally revealed his true purpose.

"Sir Lancelot, could you give me some pointers?"

Alaric drew his sword, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

"Gladly!"

Clang!

Understanding Alaric's intent, Lancelot strode forward and drew his sword in one swift motion.

'!'

Before Alaric could react, Lancelot struck him with a single blow, sending him flying!

Crash!

Alaric tumbled across the ground, skidding for over ten meters as gravel flew in all directions.

'Is this the strength of the strongest Knight of the Round Table?!'

Alaric could only feel his arms going numb as if he'd just collided head-on with a speeding truck! Even a casual strike from Lancelot was more than he could handle.

"Sir Alaric, you possess the dragon blood of the king, yet you have barely tapped into its potential."

Lancelot's words were sharp and to the point, exposing Alaric's shortcomings. Since Alaric had fully awakened his dragon blood, the draconic aura around him had become increasingly apparent.

"Also, Sir Alaric, your swordsmanship is too weak—"

Lancelot could tell that Alaric's combat skills were severely lacking; he relied almost entirely on his physical strength in battle.

"Which is why I want to learn swordsmanship from you, Sir Lancelot. As a knight of the king, it would be laughable if I were too weak—"

Grasping his sword tightly, Alaric charged forward once more!

Clang!

The clash of blades rang out sharply.

Crack!

A crack swiftly spread across Alaric's weathered greatsword—

Seeing this, Alaric glanced at Lancelot's sword: The Holy Sword—Arondight, the Unfading Light of the Lake. It was a sword entrusted to humans by the Lady of the Lake, as durable as Excalibur itself!

With just a brief exchange, Alaric's sword was already on the verge of breaking! Lancelot exerted a little more force, and Alaric's sword shattered with a crisp snap.

"It's not over yet!"

Alaric, now wielding only the broken blade, charged at Lancelot once again!

The result, however, was obvious—

The sparring match ended with Alaric's swift and decisive defeat.

"Truly, Sir Lancelot, you are the strongest Knight of the Round Table."

To Alaric, swordsmanship was a matter of honing one's skills and accumulating experience, and in that regard, Lancelot was the strongest opponent he had ever faced! Not even the Lion King could compare.

"You flatter me. It seems, Sir Alaric, that you have a strong will. I would be happy to teach you."

After their sparring session, Lancelot could see that Alaric's intentions were pure. He sought to hone his skills to live up to the title of knight.

After some more conversation, Alaric arranged to formally begin his swordsmanship training under Lancelot after the first Holy Selection ended.

"Is Sir Alaric planning to leave with this lady?"

Lancelot sheathed his sword, noticing that Alaric had made up his mind to depart.

"Of course. Miss Serenity and I have a... meeting. I hope you can keep this a secret, Sir Lancelot—"

...

Dawn had arrived.

After bidding farewell to Lancelot, the sleepless Alaric finally witnessed a different landscape. Rolling mountains stretched out before him, barren and desolate.

"This way leads to the Eastern Village, doesn't it? Miss Serenity, should we go around it?"

Alaric, swaying in the saddle atop the black horse, was eager to meet the First Hassan; everything else could wait. Besides, it wasn't likely that Serenity would take the risk of leading him into the village.

"Or is it that Miss Serenity still refuses to take me to meet the First Hassan?"

"That lord…"

Serenity hesitated, unsure of what to say.

The journey so far had been tormenting for her. Alaric's conditions were far too unreasonable, yet the refugees were in Lancelot's hands, leaving Serenity at a loss for what to do. Was she going to take Alaric to Azrael's Shrine?

Just as Serenity was agonizing over her decision—

"!"

The sound of something cutting through the air reached them, and Alaric's expression shifted slightly.

Clang!

"Throwing knives? Is it another Hassan?"

Alaric glanced at the incoming attack—several slender daggers—and then turned toward Serenity.

"Miss Serenity, could you ask your friend to come out? If there's a problem, just say it. These won't kill me."

The assassin's presence was so well-concealed that Alaric, in his current state, couldn't locate them while they remained hidden.

"Lady Serenity, who is this person accompanying you?"

A deep voice echoed from the shadows, and Alaric turned to face the speaker—a tall figure cloaked in darkness, wearing a bone-white mask similar to Serenity Hassan's.

Before Alaric could respond, he had already deduced the identity of the newcomer.

His true name was—

The Old Man of the Mountain—Cursed Arm Hassan!