Typemoon: Starting Out as the Lion King [Chapter 60]

"Hmm? Miss Sanzang, do you know something?"

Alaric asked, visibly troubled by the change in the Sword of End, unable to make sense of what had happened.

He unsheathed the blade, allowing Sanzang to examine it.

Agravain, who had been preparing to leave with Alaika, instinctively paused at the sight of Alaric showing the sword to Sanzang. He perked up, clearly ready to hear Sanzang's insights. Meanwhile, Gawain, standing nearby, seemed more concerned with the mashed potato feast awaiting him in the marketplace and began making his way there.

"I don't know!"

Sanzang admitted bluntly, her gaze shifting away from the sword. Her disinterest left Agravain free to resume his preparations to leave with Alaika.

"Sir Agravain, there's no need for violence. Just ask her directly. Alaika is quite cooperative," Alaric advised before Agravain could act, reminding him not to resort to force.

Agravain nodded slightly.

"Rest well before Sir Tristan and the others return, Sir Alaric. We cannot afford complacency before the campaign against Richard the Lionheart."

As Agravain escorted Alaika away, Sanzang's curiosity got the better of her. She asked almost instinctively, "Where are they taking Alaika?"

Alaric replied casually, watching Agravain's retreating figure.

"It's just routine questioning. Sir Agravain needs information about the remnants of the Crusaders. I likely didn't ask thoroughly enough, so his approach should be more effective."

After they departed, Alaric sheathed the Sword of End, disappointment flickering across his face. It seemed he'd have to wait for Agravain to report to the Lion King before learning the truth behind the sword's transformation. Yet, knowing the Lion King's enigmatic nature, Alaric doubted he'd receive the full story.

The mystery of the Red Dragon—a secret the Lion King had guarded closely—remained impenetrable. If the truth about the Red Dragon was kept hidden, uncovering the cause behind the Sword of End's transformation seemed equally unlikely.

Noticing Alaric's disappointment, Sanzang suddenly spoke.

"Actually, I did notice something!"

Her abrupt change in tone piqued Alaric's curiosity.

"Miss Sanzang, what do you mean by that?"

Holding food in both hands, Sanzang frowned slightly, as if searching for the right words to describe the sword's altered state. After a long pause, she said hesitantly:

"It's like a paradox. The sword may look different now, but its essence hasn't changed. Or perhaps it's your heart that has shifted. As they say, 'form follows the heart.' A change in the wielder's heart can often lead to changes in their weapon."

Sanzang's words struck a chord.

"Form follows the heart?"

Alaric's eyes widened in surprise. He grasped the concept but couldn't understand why it would apply to him now—especially about the Sword of End, which appeared ominous at a glance.

If this transformation was truly a result of "form follows the heart," did that mean his heart had changed? Had he fallen into darkness?

"Miss Sanzang, does this mean something is wrong? I don't feel any different. Could my heart have changed?"

Even though Alaric felt in excellent condition, the fact that Sanzang had raised this point made it impossible to ignore. Her perspective often transcended ordinary understanding.

Yet Sanzang seemed equally puzzled.

"Yes, I don't understand either. It feels like a change within your heart, but you seem unchanged. It's not like your mind has been disturbed by a monkey heart, nor does it seem like you've fallen into the Abyss of Kalan. Even though the sword has changed, it still resonates with you."

Her frustration became evident as her face scrunched in thought, struggling to comprehend Alaric's situation.

Watching her tie herself in knots, Alaric stifled a laugh and recalled something.

"Oh, Miss Sanzang, the Sword of End changed when I activated my Noble Phantasm. Do you think that might be related?"

"When I released it, a surge of magical power erupted from my heart, and then the sword transformed."

He carefully recounted the moment, confident he hadn't overlooked any details. The magic from his dragon heart had peaked, pushing his dragon blood to its limits. But why had this caused the sword's transformation?

It wasn't the first time he'd unleashed his dragon blood, and yet this change was unprecedented.

"Hmm? Dragon blood?"

Hearing his explanation, Sanzang quickly finished her food and scrutinized him closely. Her bright eyes seemed to pierce through him, a faint sandalwood scent lingering in the air between them.

"Your aura... It's quite different from the White Dragon's."

Her gaze sharpened, as though seeing something far beyond his physical form.

The White Dragon. Alaric had often heard Sanzang mention that name, and he knew exactly who it referred to: the mythical dragon that accompanied her on her journey to the west, the White Dragon Horse.

Unlike Alaric, an artificially modified dragon, the White Dragon was a natural-born being, later elevated to divinity as the Eight Heavenly Dragon King.

But what did Sanzang mean by "different"?

"Miss Sanzang, what do you mean by that?"

Alaric asked cautiously, leaning back slightly as she moved closer.

"Hmm... Your dragon essence feels distinct from the White Dragon's. It seems like there's something else mixed in. Something different—not monstrous, but..."

Her voice trailed off as she examined him intently.

"Something else mixed in?"

Alaric's expression grew serious. If there was more to his blood than he knew, it could complicate everything.

"Miss Sanzang, are you saying there's something else besides the dragon blood?"

Sanzang hesitated before answering, her uncertainty deepening the mystery.

"Your dragon blood is far more complex than the White Dragon's. It represents something beyond a pure dragon—"