What Sanzang said left Alaric somewhat puzzled. Not only were there other elements involved, but even the matter represented by the dragon's blood was far from simple. Could this be due to the British connection? Alaric couldn't be certain. Just as he was about to ask further, Sanzang shook her head, stood up straight, and mumbled, "I don't understand this. If only I could hear the voice of the Bodhisattva, or if Wukong were here—he'd be able to figure out what kind of monster you are."
Seeing Sanzang so troubled, Alaric decided not to press the matter further.
"Never mind, Miss Sanzang. We'll understand when the time comes."
To prevent her from dwelling on the issue, Alaric interrupted her thoughts, trying to ease her mind.
Hearing this, Sanzang let out a long sigh.
"It seems my cultivation isn't enough. Could it be that I've been as lazy as Wukong and the others say?"
Seeing Sanzang fall into self-doubt, Alaric found it both amusing and exasperating.
At this moment, Gawain returned, carrying several pots of mashed potatoes. Noticing Agravain's absence, he asked curiously, "Has Sir Agravain already taken the magus and left?"
Seeing Gawain indeed holding mashed potatoes, Alaric instinctively glanced at the bustling market behind him. He vividly remembered Sanzang eating her way through the market earlier; just the aroma alone was enough to make one's mouth water—not to mention that Alaric was now utterly famished.
"Indeed, Sir Agravain has already taken Alaika away. That leaves just Miss Sanzang and me. Sir Gawain, did you make these mashed potatoes at the market?"
Gawain nodded.
"Naturally. I wanted you, Sir Alaric, to witness the superiority and deliciousness of potatoes. This is a delicacy praised endlessly, even in the capital."
Alaric quickly interrupted Sanzang's self-doubting thoughts.
"Miss Sanzang, perhaps you could reflect on this later. For now, why don't we try Sir Gawain's mashed potatoes? They say it's fit for a royal feast."
Sanzang sniffed the air and followed the aroma to the mashed potatoes in Gawain's arms. Surprised, she said, "The Buddha teaches us to eat on time. Have you two not eaten yet?"
Alaric took one of the large pots of mashed potatoes from Gawain, marveling at its hefty weight, silently admiring the capacity of a royal appetite.
"Miss Sanzang, would you like some?"
...
A few minutes later, Alaric sat alone at the edge of a pure white wall, full and content. The Sword of End rested horizontally on his lap. Now far from Gawain, the night had fully descended.
Within the eternal radiance of the light wheel, starlight twinkled, and a bright moon hung high. If the daytime light wheel was the blazing eye of the divine, watching over humanity from above, the nighttime light wheel was the cold, distant gaze of a god beyond the mortal world, leaving humans feeling lost and helpless.
A cold night wind brushed past, lifting Alaric's now longer white hair. Looking down at the pitch-dark camp below, he could see only a few flickering lights moving among the tents. These were the knights maintaining order and safety after the refugees had fallen asleep.
Though Alaric understood this was merely the calm before the next Holy Selection, he couldn't help but let out a long sigh. He didn't know how long he'd been sitting on the wall alone when he saw a light.
As the first ray of dawn broke on the horizon, heralding the arrival of morning, the sunlight soon dispelled the chill in the air around Alaric, bringing a warm, comforting sensation. A new day had begun.
This day held particular significance for Alaric. With Lancelot and Tristan returning to Camelot, they were set to depart and eliminate the remnants of the Crusaders and the man calling himself the Lionheart King.
Before venturing into the domain of the Sun King, Ozymandias, Alaric had no qualifications to join the crusade. His mastery of dragon blood was far from its peak, and his martial skills were weak. Joining the crusade recklessly would only mean throwing his life away.
But with the Holy Grail in his possession, everything had changed. At his maximum power, he was only slightly weaker than Gawain, the Sun Knight, even in Gawain's regular state. This was enough to make Alaric proud.
As time passed, movement began in the camp outside the walls—not just among the refugees from various regions, but also among the knights maintaining order. When the sun finally appeared at the edge of the horizon, figures emerged in the distance, approaching Camelot.
Alaric squinted slightly. With his dragon eyes, he could easily discern the figures. Leading them was a man clad in purple armor. His handsome features made him unforgettable. It was none other than the Knight of Lake, Lancelot, who had once served as Alaric's mentor.
'Tristan hasn't returned yet?'
Alaric scanned the surroundings but didn't see Tristan. Apart from their first summoning, Alaric hadn't had much interaction with that knight.
"Sir Lancelot—!"
When Lancelot and his knightly retinue reached the main gate, Alaric raised his hand in greeting. Noticing Alaric on the wall, Lancelot smiled slightly and called out, "Sir Alaric, have you finished gathering information about the Sun King?"
Thud!
Alaric leaped down from the wall, landing not far from Lancelot, and said with a smile, "More or less. I also brought back news of the Crusader's remnants. To put it simply, the King did not completely annihilate the Crusaders. The one calling himself the Lionheart King has rallied the remnants, and they've become a threat. So, we need a complete extermination."
Lancelot dismounted, looking at Alaric in surprise, seemingly not expecting him to return with such shocking news.
"And what of the Sun King? Did you gather any intelligence about him as well?"
Lancelot wasn't particularly concerned about the remnants of the Crusaders, but he knew that Alaric's mission was personally assigned by the Lion King. Failure would surely incur her wrath, which Alaric was currently too weak to endure.
"Of course. I learned about the Sun King first, and then I discovered the Crusader remnants," Alaric replied with a smile.
Hearing this, Lancelot nodded in relief. Just as he was about to say more, his gaze fell on the dark sword at Alaric's waist. He instinctively asked, "Sir Alaric, what is this?"
Lancelot remembered that before they parted, Alaric hadn't possessed this ominous-looking weapon.
Alaric didn't hide it, answering directly, "It's a reward from the King—something like a lower-tier substitute for the holy spear she wields. It didn't originally look like this; it was a holy sword as pure as the holy spear."
Hearing this, Lancelot didn't ask further and instead returned to the topic of the Sun King.
"So, Sir Alaric, what intelligence have you gathered about the Sun King? Is he our enemy?"
Based on Alaric's earlier description, Lancelot believed the Sun King would likely stand against them, but he couldn't make any assumptions without confirmation.
Alaric nodded and said, "Strictly speaking, the Sun King will be our enemy. His way of protecting humanity is entirely different from the King's, so he will never agree with her plans."