Jeanne stared at the unbelievable creature before her. It was a lion—a living, talking lion, not an Aslan with animalistic traits!
This was only the second time she had encountered a creature of this sort; the first had been Emperor, the penguin over at Penguin Logistics. Up until now, Jeanne had assumed such beings were exceedingly rare.
"What is this thing? A guardian beast related to the Aslan?" Talulah raised an eyebrow at the golden lion, eyeing the beast with mild curiosity as it adopted a hostile stance.
"I'm not entirely sure," Jeanne replied, scrutinizing its presence. "It looks like a rather unique creature, and it speaks fluent human speech. Have you ever seen a beast, other than Emperor, talk like this?"
Jeanne could tell this beast was vastly different from ordinary fauna; it clearly possessed far higher intelligence than a common wild animal.
"If you have come to marvel at the place where kings sleep, I offer you welcome on behalf of the departed," the lion said, padding slowly toward them without concealing its hostility. "If you are here to claim treasures, gold and jewels lie to the east. But if you have come to seize the Sword of Victoria that belongs to the Aslan, we have no choice but to fight."
A heavy, sweltering pressure filled the cavern—a sensation like standing in the middle of a vast, sun-baked savanna. The lion was using its aura to exert a quiet threat over the trio.
If they dared touch the Sigh of Kings, this creature intended to stop them by force... but did it truly possess the power to back up that threat?
Setting aside how much strength it had, a beast of this nature usually relied on limited mystical abilities. Like Emperor, was it merely a bit stronger than a normal human?
Standing opposite the lion were an empowered Draco, a literal dragon, and a maiden with formidable powers. This trio wouldn't just beat a single lion; if sent to another world as adventurers, they could march straight to the Demon King's castle and thrash him without breaking a sweat.
"This is the resting place of kings, where both Draco and Aslan lie buried," Talulah stated coldly, refusing to show the slightest deference to the Aslan emblem. "And I don't believe anyone inside this hall has a greater right to command what lies within than I do."
Talulah eyed the Sigh of Kings with a quiet, intriguing intensity. Truthfully, she had little personal interest in the blade, but the lion's posture piqued her defiance.
She gripped the hilt of the Sword of Victoria with both hands and gave it a firm tug. To her surprise, though the blade was merely driven into the stone floor, it refused to budge an inch under her strength.
Fascinating. Facing something that blatantly defied physical logic, Talulah grew even more curious about its true nature.
"Roar—!"
With a mighty roar, the talking lion sprang into action, preparing to pounce on Talulah.
Yet its offensive was cut short before it even began. Fafnir had finally snapped back to reality, realizing two crucial facts: this lion was an enemy, and this enemy knew where the gold was hidden!
The young dragon lunged forward, grabbed the lion by its tail, and demanded, "Where's the gold?!"
When the lion ignored her, Fafnir simply swung the beast by its tail like a windmill. In the young dragon's hands, the mighty beast had no chance to resist, its body thumping repeatedly against the cold stone floor.
Watching this display of absolute animal cruelty, Jeanne and Talulah wondered if their earlier caution had been completely unnecessary. The beast didn't look terrifying at all now.
"And here I thought it was some grand guardian of the Aslan lineage, holding ancient magic to awaken those stone statues and crush trespassers..." Talulah muttered, utterly speechless at the lion's pathetic performance. "Turns out it's just this?"
Talulah felt a faint flush of embarrassment. To think she had actually been intimidated by a wild beast just moments ago! If word of this got out, it would be downright embarrassing.
"Speak! Where is the gold?!" Fafnir demanded, swinging the lion around in continuous circles like a giant fan.
The talking lion desperately tried to wriggle out of the girl's terrifying grip. What in Terra's name is this child? it panicked internally. Why are none of my powers working against her?!
"Eh? It disappeared?" Fafnir blinked as the weight suddenly vanished from her hands.
The lion reappeared a short distance away, staggering on wobbly legs. Its head was spinning so violently from the dizzying rotation that it could barely stand upright.
"You cannot pull the Sigh of Kings from the stone," the lion panted heavily, trying to regain its balance. "That blade can only be drawn by a true descendant of the Aslan. This royal sword possesses..."
"...Some built-in mechanism that verifies whether the person holding the hilt meets the requirements, right?" Jeanne scratched her head with a wry smile. "Why does this sound so familiar? Have you people been running this exact same trick for centuries without changing the script?"
Jeanne shook her head in amusement. This felt like a page ripped straight out of the legends of Caliburn and Artoria. Even after Britannia became Victoria over the centuries, the sword-in-the-stone trope remained completely unchanged!
"Let me ask you something, lion," Jeanne said, eyeing the blade with growing interest. "Is there some absurd rule that whoever pulls this sword out becomes the King of Victoria?"
Jeanne felt a sudden urge to try her luck. Who knows? Maybe she could swap her class from Ruler to Saber and play King Arthur for a day!
After all, aside from her figure, she looked remarkably similar to Artoria, effectively sharing the exact same face. The idea felt surprisingly viable the more she thought about it!
"There is no absolute rule..." the lion rasped. "However, anyone capable of drawing the royal sword here is a recognized Aslan—and by extension, fit to rule Victoria. You may understand it that way. And my name is Gawain. Address me by my name, not 'lion'."
Hearing the name, Jeanne's eyes sparkled with even greater curiosity. "Your name is Gawain?"
"What? You know me?" Gawain eyed the peculiar woman, trying to fathom where she could have possibly heard of him.
"Can you make mashed potatoes?"
Gawain raised his paw in sheer bewilderment. "Do these paws look like they can cook?"
"Do you know the Excalibur Galatine?"
"What on earth is that? Some kind of sword technique?"
"Ah, guess not. That's a shame." Though Jeanne had expected the answer, hearing it out loud still brought a tiny wave of disappointment.
She had briefly wondered if the Sun Knight had lost his memory and turned into a lion. It seemed it was just a coincidence of names.
"I can't pull this thing out," Talulah sighed, stepping back after trying so hard her dragon tail had almost cramped up. "Do you want to give it a shot?"
"I'll try! I'll try!" Jeanne stepped forward enthusiastically. "Maybe I'll actually unlock a beam attack!"
Gawain flopped onto the ground, entirely resigned to his fate. Let them do as they please. He couldn't win in a fight anyway, and pushing the issue might turn him into tonight's dinner.
"Man, this whole scene gives me massive nostalgia," Jeanne muttered to herself as she approached the blade. "If there were an Incubus whispering cryptic advice in my ear right now, the picture would be complete."
Hiding in the shadows nearby, a hidden Sarkaz felt a cold sweat break out across his neck. How does she know?! Could she have noticed me already?
Jeanne placed both hands onto the hilt of the Sigh of Kings, feeling the faint hum of energy radiating from the steel. With a casual, effortless tug—
Clang!
The Sigh of Kings slid free from the stone, rising effortlessly into the air.
Gawain's jaw dropped in absolute shock. How could a woman who was clearly not an Aslan draw the Sigh of Kings?! What on Terra was her... race?
Looking closely at Jeanne, Gawain realized it wasn't that her racial traits were subtle—she possessed no racial traits whatsoever!
That distinct appearance brought to Gawain's mind the ancient beings who walked this land long before his own creation. If this maiden truly belonged to them, then everything made sense.
After all, the sword itself was a product of their ancient technology.