7 [7] This Vast Land

The façade of the ultimate antagonist is quite impressive.

Alvin browsed through his attributes, and Alvin's current panel was no less impressive than a slightly weaker Servant in the Holy Grail War.

Although... he knew that in the moonlit world, the panel was basically just for show, the Noble Phantasms were the key to determining victory.

In actual battles, everyone would release chaotic magical attacks, creating explosions of gas.

However, this panel was already extremely exaggerated. It's worth noting that Alvin is just an eight-year-old shota.

He could be described as a young dragon man, capable of carrying weights and punching through stones. Even those long-established knights would exclaim upon seeing him, "This kid is only eight?!"

With the Ultimate Life Form talent, his phantasmal species blood granted Alvin literal strength of bears, eagle eyes, leopard speed, wolf ears... not referencing ordinary animals, but using phantasmal species from the age of gods as a standard.

All the superior characteristics of various species converged into one, and he could even develop a pair of wings if he wanted. No need for any rigorous training, practice, or study, as long as he kept breathing, he would continually become stronger. This was the superiority of being the ultimate life form, every moment was a continuous step towards the realm called perfection.

With age, Alvin still had vast room for improvement, truly embodying a promising future.

When he reached adulthood, he would undoubtedly grow into a monster with Strength and Agility both at A, or maybe even four A+. However, compared to the luxurious terms around him on the panel...

One line on the panel seemed a bit out of place...

[Luck: E]

"Tsk." Alvin looked at that glaring item, "It's actually E-Rank..."

"Is this implying I should become a Lancer?"

It had to be said, his system truly understood the antagonist. If luck were good, then he wouldn't be an antagonist but the protagonist.

Thinking this way, the silver-haired youth couldn't help lowering his gaze and looking at the vast training ground at the base of the castle.

Although swordsmanship was more in line with Alvin aesthetic.

But it seemed like the system was hinting for him to learn the spear?

In this dilemma, a tall figure appeared behind Alvin.

Accompanied by the warm voice of an old man.

A rough hand, covered in scars and calluses, gently pressed on the young man's shoulder.

"Alvin, you seem distracted?"

"Father."

Alvin didn't need to turn around to know it was his old man, Vortigern. Even with senses as alert as a jackal, he hadn't noticed Vortigern's approach.

The strengths of the two sides were obviously not on the same level.

He turned around and looked at the burly old man in front of him.

What entered his eyes was the gentle smile on Vortigern's face.

Ignoring his overly tall stature, the despised king who made the entire Britannia tremble seemed like an ordinary and amiable neighbor at the moment.

If an outsider saw this scene.

No one would believe that the seemingly friendly old man in front of the youth was the terrifying Vile King who made the entire Britain tremble.

Only in front of his own son.

This king, who was pointed at by thousands, concealed all his sharpness.

Facing his silver-haired old man, Alvin nodded slightly in greeting.

"I was looking at the scenery outside the window."

"Something on your mind?"

"I've encountered a little bottleneck in my magical studies," Alvin said straightforwardly, "And Lady Morgan seems to be distancing herself from me."

"Your cousin has that kind of personality, you should be more tolerant of her," Vortigern smiled, "Tomorrow is your eighth birthday, do you have any gifts you want?"

"As long as it exists on this Britannia, feel free to ask. Even the stars in the sky, I'll pluck them for you."

The old man said exaggerated words with a gentle tone that contradicted them. The idea of plucking stars sounded extravagant.

But Alvin knew that Vortigern could really do it...

The despised King Vortigern had ruled over the central city of Londinium for nearly a decade.

The brightest jewel of Britannia had fallen into the hands of Vortigern, and the capital had succumbed to the barbarian rebels, a great shame for the Celtic people.

Despite the widespread condemnation and curses... over the years, no lord or knight dared to truly show up for retribution against Vortigern, demonstrating the terrifying reputation he had earned.

In addition, what is even more intriguing is...

Alvin is not clear about what force is supporting this elderly king, who willingly faces the world's criticism, bears the thousand-year-old infamy, and introduces barbarians to usurp the throne from his own brother.

Uther is not even a match for Vortigern.

If Vortigern is truly a vile king seeking power, why wait until this late, decrepit age to rebel?

After many years of acquaintance, Alvin naturally sees that Vortigern, denounced as a dragon, has no craving for power whatsoever.

No interest in women, no love for wealth, no desire for authority...

Despite leading a foreign army, there is a strict military discipline, more like driving Celts away than conquering cities.

No interest in bloody massacres, the word 'cruel' doesn't suit him.

There is no motive for revenge either.

...Then, what is he persisting for?

Unfortunately, no matter how directly or indirectly Alvin has asked about it, Vortigern never answers. He just smiles and ruffles Alvin's hair.

"You'll understand when you grow up, Alvin."

He always says.

Will time provide the answers...

Time...

There is nothing more cruel in this world than time.

Even the light-devouring dragon has to be tainted by the decay of aging under the river of time.

Vortigern Pendragon.

This man is quite old.

The wrinkles on his face, scars on his arms, white hair, cloudy pupils...

These traces left by time reveal all the hardships the old man has experienced. However, the imposing aura lurking in his sturdy body remains as deep as a prison.

Facing this aged king, Alvin feels like he's facing towering mountains, making it impossible to stir any emotion.

"A character as profound as the earth."

This is Alvin's evaluation of Vortigern.

As for his father's inquiry, the silver-haired youth just gently shook his head.

"I don't want any gifts," Alvin paused, "but I have a few presumptuous thoughts and would like to request Father's permission."

"But feel free to speak."

"I want to go out and see the world, and also practice combat."

As the words fell silent, the old man entered a momentary silence.

After rubbing his son's head, Vortigern looked out of the window and slowly spoke.

"When you were young, your body hadn't fully grown, and practicing combat would easily hurt your bones and tendons."

"Now that you're at this age, you have a suitable physique."

"I have no objection to this matter."

"But, Alvin, if you are to go out..."

The words of the king gradually extinguished like dying embers.

However, Alvin had already understood what his father wanted to say.

His identity is just too sensitive.

'The son of King Vortigern', this identity, if accidentally exposed, would immediately attract a large number of knights for assassination.

Despite the knights advocating single combat duels, when facing demons like the White Dragon, there would be no talk of chivalry.

Vortigern couldn't always protect him.

Sending an army for protection would be an inappropriate display.

So for eight years, Alvin had never set foot outside the castle.

"Sorry, I haven't been able to let you go out. It's my fault."

Although he was a lively young man, he had to be confined to the high tower of the castle. Even though he understood that this was necessary for his protection, Vortigern, as a father, couldn't help but feel guilty for his son.

Therefore, despite the danger, he didn't immediately reject Alvin's request.

"At home, you have everything you want. Why suddenly want to go out?"

The old man wanted to hear his son's reasons.

The silver-haired youth, hearing this, turned his gaze and looked at the vast land under the sun.

His eyes did not linger within the magnificent city of Londinium but crossed over the towering walls, looking towards the distant horizon.

With the sun hanging high, everything was flourishing.

Everything in the world seemed to be thriving.

Just like this cloudless and clear sky, the youth's heart could not be bound by anything.

"Without measuring this vast land with my own feet, I won't truly understand this country, right?"

Alvin spoke softly.

"I want to travel because I want to see the appearance of Britannia with my own eyes."

Beloved by the age of gods, Britannia...

Despite facing the decline of true Ether, the magical energy in this land is still abundant.

Like a mouse stealing into an oil drum, the high concentration of magic in the air is almost extravagant for Alvin, a modern magus relying on a small source for spells.

The true Ether-rich age of gods is right in front of him!

Distribution of phantasmal species in Britannia, characteristics of plants and creatures, and the truth behind the decline of the age of gods...

Alvin has too many topics he wants to study!

Those various ideas in his mind are difficult to realize in the high tower of the castle.

In the Clock Tower, he can't even touch the scenery of the age of gods. This rare opportunity should not be wasted!

The other reason is that if this system were to make a sudden decision that everything that is currently happening is over and take him back to where he was before, there would be no pills for regret.

Just as Alvin answered the questions, it was also his true thoughts.

He never places hope on illusions.

Therefore, Alvin, like a sponge soaked in water, greedily studies everything unknown. Perhaps the power of this body is just like a fleeting dream, but the knowledge and experience gained in the simulation are real.

Not as a magus.

But as a human, yearning to explore the mysterious unknown, that is a truly heartfelt impulse.

Intellect.

That is something that cannot be taken away by anyone, truly belonging to oneself.

Looking at the silver-haired youth gazing out of the window with a somewhat trance-like expression, the hope in his eyes made Vortigern's expression bewildered for a moment.

As a vile king, how could he not distinguish between sincerity and deceit in a person's words?

Because of this, Vortigern knew, Alvin was sincere.

To truly understand this country...?

As the king himself, he never thought about understanding this country.

A ruler is a king.

Almost all of his energy is occupied by the matter of the decline of the age of gods. Because of being too focused on this, Vortigern is oblivious to the land beneath his feet. In the end, as a king... his awareness is not even comparable to that of a child.

...How embarrassing.

Faced with the silver-haired youth's resounding answer, Vortigern couldn't help but be a little stunned.

Alvin's excellence far exceeded his expectations. But if his son is to embark on the treacherous path of protecting Britannia, what should he, as a father, do?

...The old man with one foot in the coffin shouldn't block the way. Leave it to the young people to decide.

"If you want to go out, go, Alvin. I believe you will handle it with discretion."

The old man closed his iron-gray cloudy pupils.

"But before that, you need to earnestly learn means of self-defense."

"Remember, once the body dies, everything ends. As long as you're alive, anything is possible. Only by understanding the value of life can you have the determination to give up everything."

"Go and learn, learn how to do your best to survive..."

"This is the first lesson your father gives you."