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

"Where is the workshop?"

Alaric asked, turning his head to survey the surroundings. There were no signs of any civilized structures—only countless bone towers standing tall amidst the desolate wasteland.

"It's not here. The rebel's magical workshop was a hidden place within the mountains. By the time we arrived, it had already been destroyed by the abominations that broke out from within," Tristan replied, shaking his head.

He continued, "As for this fire, it seems to have originated from those escaping abominations. Likely a key component of some magical ritual. A chain reaction occurred, resulting in what we see now."

"Howl—"

Alaric began but stopped himself, taking in Tristan's explanation as he surveyed the scene. The current state of affairs was clear.

Under Alaika's guidance, Lancelot and Tristan had indeed found the Crusaders' magical workshop hidden in a mountain valley, but they were too late. All the chimeras in the workshop had been released into the outside world, leaving the workshop in utter ruin.

Staring at the giant dragon before them, Alaric suddenly asked with curiosity, "Then what's the deal with this dragon?"

The lone, terrifying beast stood in stark contrast to the fiery battlefield filled with battling chimeras.

"This dragon wasn't present initially. It emerged from the corpses of the chimeras I relentlessly slew to stop them from chasing Sir Lancelot," Tristan said calmly, his gaze fixed on the massive carcass nearby.

After battling it for over ten minutes, Tristan alone understood how troublesome the dragon had been—its body was a fusion of countless lives, its unparalleled regenerative abilities, and the bizarre berserk curse. These three elements combined to create a nameless monstrosity.

Yet Alaric had slain the dragon with ease.

Upon hearing Tristan explain that the dragon was a composite entity formed from all the chimeras in the fiery battlefield, Alaric immediately realized that had Mordred not obliterated the remaining chimeras earlier, another such monster would have eventually emerged.

Looking at the fields of bone towers, a troubling thought crossed Alaric's mind. How many lives did this cost?

From the scale of the battlefield, there must have been hundreds of chimeras. While their quality varied, their sheer numbers were staggering. Given what Alaric knew of the Crusaders' method for creating chimeras, an enormous number of lives was required. Refugees aside, had they also sacrificed their own Crusader knights?

Alaika's explanation of the chimera formula lingered vividly in Alaric's memory.

"Hm? It seems similar to what we encountered earlier—"

Though Mordred had taken a direct hit from the dragon, she brushed it off, stretching nonchalantly as she overheard Alaric and Tristan's conversation.

"Indeed, Mordred. The chimeras we faced earlier were of the same type as the ones Sir Tristan encountered," Alaric confirmed.

"It seems there is more than one battlefield. But our priority now is to locate Sir Lancelot."

Alaric didn't know how many chimeras remained or where they were scattered. However, having witnessed the ultimate form of a chimera, he had a clear sense of their potential threat. The immediate task was to find the missing Lancelot and Alaika to deal with the Lionheart King.

"Sir Tristan, Mordred, what do you think?"

Alaric asked after sharing his thoughts.

"Of course, we should go after that Lionheart King! Otherwise, Lancelot will steal all the glory!"

Mordred grinned.

"Defeating the rebel Lionheart King is an urgent matter," Tristan agreed. "Since most of the chimeras released from the workshop have been eliminated, we should regroup with Sir Lancelot without delay."

Seeing both of them in agreement, Alaric nodded and posed another question: "Since the chimera horde had been released before you reached the workshop, could this mean the Lionheart King had already caught wind of our plans?"

Tristan nodded solemnly.

"Indeed. As you suggest, Sir Alaric, our plan has likely been uncovered. Whether Sir Lancelot managed to confront the Lionheart King remains uncertain."

"Ugh, Agravain's plans are useless!"

Mordred grumbled, realizing the implications. She began ranting about Agravain, who was stationed back in Camelot.

"If the Lionheart King escapes, we'll lose his trail, putting us at a disadvantage," Alaric said.

"This opportunity is likely the best—and perhaps the only—chance to eliminate him."

From Alaric's perspective, the remnants of the Crusaders were now reduced to just the Lionheart King and a few strong subordinates. However, their numbers were undoubtedly limited. To create the chimeras, the Lionheart King must have exhausted nearly all of his manpower, leaving only a handful of followers.

As their conversation concluded, Alaric, Tristan, and Mordred pressed further into the valley under Tristan's guidance, following Lancelot's path. As the number of bone towers dwindled, Alaric finally saw a landscape beyond the scorched earth.

The mountains had been cleaved apart. Crimson blood stained the land. Severed limbs and broken bodies littered the area, forming rivers of gore.

Alaric immediately recognized the corpses as belonging to chimeras. It was evident that a fierce battle had occurred here, and it had ended in Lancelot's victory.

"Then, is it time for Sir Gawain to enter the fray?"

Alaric asked, turning to Tristan and Mordred after witnessing the battlefield Lancelot had left behind.

The Sun Knight Gawain, especially with the Lion King's blessing of eternal daylight, was undoubtedly one of the strongest in this singularity. His power rivaled only the Lion King's brilliance. As the final trump card in this knight offensive, Gawain was currently stationed outside the mountains, awaiting the right moment to strike.

However, with the Lionheart King already aware of their plan, Alaric felt there was no longer any point in keeping Gawain waiting. It would waste a golden opportunity. Having Gawain enter now could clear the battlefield efficiently. With Gawain and Lancelot together, they could easily dominate—or even decisively eliminate—the Lionheart King.

Hearing this, Tristan's expression remained stoic, though his tone carried a tinge of melancholy.

"The Sun's radiance will reach the mountain valley eventually."

"What do you think, Mordred?"

Alaric turned to Mordred, who was never one to mince words.

"Ugh, if you want to call in that gorilla Gawain, go ahead. It's all the same to me," Mordred replied nonchalantly.

"Then I'll be right back," Alaric said, crouching slightly. Crimson lightning began to crackle around him before erupting in a powerful burst.

Boom!

The scarlet lightning shot straight up the steep cliffs, carrying Alaric rapidly to the mountaintop. His ascent left a trail of white mist swirling in his wake.

As he reached the summit, Alaric summoned his sword and unleashed his magical energy. The red lightning around him dissipated, replaced by a dark glow emanating from the blade.

If they sought the Sun's blessing, they needed to signal it to the heavens. Agravain had made the instructions clear—a grand flash of light.

Taking a deep breath, Alaric gazed out over the endless sea of clouds. His ethereal chant echoed across the mountaintop.

"O hammer of the humbled king, reverse the aurora! Devour the light! Shine forth, EX Rhongomyniad (Sword of End)!"

A beam of black light shot into the sky, piercing through the clouds. It was a symbol of his will—no longer an instrument of destruction but the absolute proof of rebirth.

In an instant, it seemed as though a black sun descended upon the vast sea of clouds.

Opposing it, the Sun began to move.