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

Credits: Alexander Martinez

"Argh—" Mordred gritted her teeth tightly. Despite her efforts to break free from Alaric, she hadn't even had the chance to widen the distance between them before Alaric's fist struck her abdomen, sending her flying backward!

"I won't deny your loyalty and righteousness, but I don't want to see you stagnate here! We're already at the end—when the world is about to be destroyed, and a new humanity is about to be born!

 And yet, you're still like this, Mordred!"

Alaric's expression was one of fervent madness. He tore off the shattered armor on his body, revealing his strong and muscular frame.

"It doesn't matter. None of this matters!

 As long as the next humanity doesn't have fools like me, that's all that matters!"

Mordred spat a mouthful of blood but never took her gaze off Alaric.

Crack—!

A sharp sound came from the Sword of End in Alaric's hand. At the same time, Mordred finally assumed a stance that Alaric recognized well.

The surging magical power declared the impending destruction.

Mordred's near-roaring chant rang out:

"Let my body scatter for the glory of Camelot!!"

Mordred's eyes locked onto Alaric. The crimson radiance emanating from her kingly sword was a manifestation of her twisted longing and hatred toward her father.

This one strike would contain everything she had!

 The overwhelming magical energy surged toward the heavens, and a crimson arc, similar to Alaricé's, quietly bloomed. Rising alongside it was the black and red hue of hatred.

The brilliance of this Noble Phantasm far surpassed what had been unleashed during the Lionheart King's subjugation. The sheer oppressive force of the magical energy made it feel as though one couldn't breathe, as if they had already evaporated.

This was a power that the current Alaric could not contest. The upper limits of the Sword of End's brilliance had already been revealed during his battle with Gawain. Even if Alaric were to use his own Noble Phantasm, pouring in unlimited magical energy, he would still lose to Mordred.

A clash of Noble Phantasms would undoubtedly result in Alarc's defeat.

Thus—

The gem-like glimmer in Alaric's eyes intensified sharply. A deeper aura of death filled his gaze.

Having already harnessed the power to sever the connection between the Holy Grail and the Magecraft King, Alaric had confidence in his ability to destroy this torrent of magical energy!

 As the death of all things emerged, Alaric gripped the hilt of his sword tightly.

Over the past six months, especially under King Hassan's tutelage, Alaric's assassination techniques and mastery of Mystic Eyes of Death Perception had reached an entirely new level.

The core principles could be summed up in three words: speed, precision, ruthlessness. The moment his ultimate strike touched the death line, victory would be his!

But just as Alaric prepared to face the crimson torrent head-on—

A petite figure holding a round shield stepped in front of him!

 Her short lilac hair swayed as she turned, revealing determined eyes.

Realizing that Alaric had no intention of using his Noble Phantasm to clash with Mordred's, both Ritsuka Fujimaru and Mash Kyrielight immediately concluded that Alaric's Noble Phantasm might not be able to overpower Mordred's.

Acting almost without thinking, Mash stepped in front of Alaric to protect him and prepared to face Mordred's all-consuming crimson torrent alone.

"True name unleashed. I will stand on the seat of catastrophe. That which heals all wounds and grudges, our glorious homeland!"

Her clear cry carried both unspoken doubt and immense determination. As her magical energy surged, the Noble Phantasm belonging to the Heroic Spirit Galahad—

—was about to manifest!

But at that moment, a large hand grabbed Mash's shoulder.

"Mash! Stand back!"

Alaric gripped Mash's shoulder and forcefully tossed her backward!

 "Huh?"

Caught completely off guard, Mash could only watch as she was thrown farther and farther away from Alaric. Always the one to shield others from danger, Mash seemed unable to comprehend what had just happened.

But Alaric had no time to worry about Mash anymore.

Mordred had pushed her blessings to their absolute limit, attaining the destructive power of a self-destructive spirit origin. Her Noble Phantasm's power had surged dramatically.

Even before the crimson torrent reached him, Alaric could feel the terrifying force barreling toward him—enough to evaporate mountains and annihilate the land!

Arash's earlier warning that this power could obliterate the entire mountain range was no exaggeration. It was an accurate description!

The mere presence of the crimson torrent caused the surrounding atmosphere to evaporate. The searing heat created an absolute vacuum that even made Alaric feel suffocated.

"Boil over, Wrath of the Planet! Clarent... Blood Arthur!"

Pouring everything from this second life into her strike, the crimson torrent surged forward.

In an instant, the valleys and ground on either side of the torrent were ripped apart and evaporated.

The western village was obliterated in an instant, erasing any trace of those who had once lived there.

 The apocalyptic scene bore down on Alaric like the end of the world.

As Mash watched, Alaric faced the terrifying torrent with nothing more than a single sword strike.

An unadorned strike—one that embodied the pinnacle of assassination techniques, achieving absolute speed. It was the culmination of all of Alaric's martial skills!

"Death Perception—Bury the Light!"

Ding!

With a sound that echoed across the heavens, both Alaric and the terrifying crimson torrent vanished from the battlefield. Only the surging backflow of displaced air remained, engulfing Mash in her astonishment.

The next moment—

Squelch!

A crimson bloom of blood erupted.

 A scalding sword pierced through flesh and bone, driving straight through the spiritual core that served as the foundation of a Servant.

"——"

Silence fell. As Alaric stood before Mordred, his sword impaling her spiritual core, only a wordless exchange passed between their gazes.

But in her final moments, Mordred finally spoke.

"How could I… be defeated? The only one who can end me… is King Arthur!"

Clang.

Her kingly sword fell from her hand. In the moment the Sword of End pierced her chest, Mordred had already irreversibly approached her end.

In truth, from the moment she unleashed her Noble Phantasm, Mordred had already chosen to walk toward death, sacrificing everything to deliver her ultimate strike to kill Alaric, Ritsuka Fujimaru, and the others.

"Idiot… Why didn't you use the Mystic Eyes?"

Realizing that her demise was proceeding slower than it should, Mordred understood that Alaric had refrained from using the Mystic Eyes of Death Perception to kill her.

Instead, he had chosen the simplest sword strike to shatter her spiritual core.

"I wanted to talk with you for a little longer, Mordred. Nothing lasts forever—not even echoes of the past. Your sins are no exception."

Alaric withdrew the Sword of Endi, his tone carrying a faint sadness.

Even his exalted dragon heart couldn't suppress the sorrow he felt.

But Mordred no longer seemed interested in arguing with Alaric.

"If it's you, Alaric, you're someone who could end me as well—

My brother… who inherited Father's blood…"

Mordred's emerald eyes were already dimming, but they remained fixed on Alaric as if she could still see the man who resembled her father yet carried the same aura as her mother.

Even though Alaric's draconic transformation had given him features similar to King Arthur, Mordred had never regarded him as an equal to her father. After all, she was a perfect replica of King Arthur.

To Mordred, Alaric was like her—a reflection of their shared, tragic fate.

"Yes, you are my sister."

Alaric raised his hand, brushing aside Mordred's disheveled golden hair and wiping the blood from the corner of her mouth.

"Mordred—"

But at that moment, Bedivere arrived, his eyes immediately locking onto Mordred's pierced form. Faint motes of light were already beginning to drift from her limbs.

As a Servant, Mordred had reached the end of her second life.

Bedivere instantly understood.

Mordred, sensing Bedivere's approach, grinned weakly,

"Still hanging around, you third-rate knight?"

PS: Nooo! Mo-chan!