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

Sweeping his gaze across the field, there were no unnecessary figures in sight—neither Alaika nor the Lionheart King he had never seen before.

Only an ocean of roaring flames stretched endlessly before him.

Alaric's eyes gleamed with a gem-like brilliance.

Reflections of death flickered in his gaze, the ordained fate of all things flowing unceasingly in his vision.

Clang!

The Sword of End fell into his palm, and Alaric leaned forward.

Boom!

Before anyone could react, Alaric's figure transformed into crimson lightning, piercing through the blazing sea of fire!

Ding!

With a clear resonance, the flames that had been roaring moments before vanished in an instant, leaving only the lingering heat in the air as evidence of their existence.

"What?!"

Not just Lancelot, but the three enemy Servants also gasped in shock, their eyes turning to the figure that had suddenly appeared.

The cursed sea of flames had been a calculated measure to weaken Lancelot and his allies. Even if it couldn't affect their spirits—blessed by the Lionheart King—it would still exert some influence.

But now, its sudden "death" left everyone stunned.

Splatter!

Amid the distraction, blood spurted.

An invisible slash severed the unnamed Servant in front of Tristan cleanly at the waist.

A decisive blow—fatal even to a Servant, who could only meet death with such injuries.

With Tristan instantly taking down one Servant, Lancelot swiftly dispatched another of the remaining two, leaving only a lone, one-armed Servant retreating slowly under their combined assault.

In a corner where no one was paying attention, Mordred suddenly noticed that the giant dragon she faced was far weaker than expected.

The wounds it suffered were not healing quickly; in just a few exchanges, its body was drenched in blood and riddled with gashes.

"What a letdown—"

Disappointed, Mordred lost all desire to continue the fight.

Initially, she had thought the dragon would be the strongest opponent, taking the initiative to drag it into a one-on-one battle.

But it turned out to be merely a facade—nothing like the dragon Tristan had faced.

Despite its stronger physique and fiercer breath, its lack of regenerative ability made it weak in Mordred's eyes.

Once she realized this, Mordred stopped holding back.

Raising her sword high, a burst of crimson lightning engulfed the dragon!

...

After quickly finishing off the sea of flames, Alaric hurried back just in time to witness Lancelot driving his sword into the chest of the unnamed Servant.

Blood splashed into the air, evaporating in the lingering heat, rising as wisps of smoke.

With this, all three of the Lionheart King's Servants were dead, leaving none to fight.

Though they were all renowned heroes of history, facing someone like Lancelot—a top-tier Knight of the Round Table—defeat was inevitable.

"Sir Lancelot, where is the Lionheart King?"

Alaric paid no mind to the once-formidable unnamed Servant, instead looking to Lancelot for the Lionheart King's whereabouts.

Their mission was to confront the Lionheart King. Killing chimera and Servants would mean nothing if they failed in this goal.

"The Lionheart King—"

Lancelot didn't answer directly but instead looked into the distance.

At the far end of the massive platform lay an anomaly.

Tap, tap.

Clear footsteps echoed.

Alaric turned to see a figure clad in light armor approaching.

A flowing cape billowed in the wind, and their attire exuded nobility.

"Knights of the false king, and the nameless one—have you come merely for my life?"

The figure's handsome face bore a faint smile as if this were a casual conversation.

Alaric said nothing, instead glancing at Lancelot with raised brows.

Lancelot's expression was stoic as he called out loudly:

"Lionheart King, if you claim to be a true king, then act with the dignity of one. Why resort to such underhanded tactics?"

Lancelot's words intrigued both Alaric and Tristan.

What could the Lionheart King have done to provoke Lancelot's anger?

"You are the Knight of the Lake, Sir Lancelot, are you not? To hear such words from the one who betrayed the King of Knights—"

The Lionheart King's smile remained, yet his words dripped with mockery.

"Sir Lancelot, where is Alaika?"

Alaric sensed something amiss and asked quietly.

"Taken by the Lionheart King's schemes—"

Regret tinged Lancelot's voice as his gaze locked onto the Lionheart King, unyielding.

Hearing this, Alaric instinctively turned toward the Lionheart King, who had stopped at a distance, observing from afar.

Piecing the events together, Alaric surmised:

After splitting up with Tristan, Lancelot and Alaika pursued the enemy, eventually encountering the Lionheart King. It was likely during the battle with the three Servants that Alaika fell into the Lionheart King's hands.

Yet what puzzled Alaric was the Lionheart King's motive for taking Alaika.

"What could be the purpose?"

Before Alaric could voice his doubts, a sudden figure interrupted.

The approaching presence stirred up a gale, kicking up dust.

"Tch! What's all this chatter? What's there to talk about?"

The small figure that barged between them was none other than Mordred. Having finished off the dragon, she rushed back, only to stumble upon the Lionheart King exchanging words with Lancelot and the others.

Her face was one of disbelief.

"Why are you chatting with this guy? Weren't we here to kill him?"

To Mordred, this dialogue seemed utterly baffling. Even Tristan wasn't intervening?

"Mordred—"

The Lionheart King turned toward Mordred with the same smile, about to speak when—

Boom!

Lightning coursed across Mordred's body as she charged with explosive speed, her sword aiming straight for the Lionheart King!

She gave him no chance to speak further.

Crash!!

Mordred's sword slashed downward with unstoppable force.

Clang!

The Lionheart King, unable to evade in time, blocked the attack with his sword.

The clash of blades rang sharply.

Like the fuse of a bomb, Mordred's assault ignited the already tense battlefield!

Lancelot surged forward without hesitation, the indestructible light of his holy sword splitting the air as he targeted the Lionheart King.

Thrum!

Tristan, standing motionless, plucked his bowstring, sending waves of invisible slashes toward the Lionheart King.

Faced with this coordinated onslaught, the Lionheart King's response was—

The light of the holy sword's radiance.

"Excalibur!"

The brilliance of the holy sword shone forth—a sight that left even the true Knights of the Round Table stunned and filled with nostalgic awe.