Drawing the Chosen Sword

"Leon, we've reached the cathedral. You are about to draw the sword and become the King of this nation, so pull yourself together and don't lose face."

The knight leading the way in his gleaming armor turned his head to speak to the person in the carriage behind him.

The carriage was crude, merely a common flatbed cart used for hauling goods, pulled by two horses and flanked by three squires on horseback.

There was only one man on the cart, huddled up and sitting in a cramped position. It wasn't that the carriage was small, but rather that the man's physique was immensely massive.

He was two or three times the size of an average person, and even sitting on the low flatbed, he looked taller than the knight on horseback.

"Understood, brother. I will certainly become King."

As they stopped in front of the destination cathedral, they encountered more people, mostly knights and their servants.

They stood in small groups, and upon seeing the giant on the cart, they were all struck dumb, whispering among themselves.

There was no mystery why; his size was simply too immense, exceeding the limits of human cognition!

Especially after the giant dismounted, his stature, which stood taller than the houses, became even more conspicuous!

Faced with this astonishment and gossip, the giant was already quite accustomed to it, merely waving his hand and smiling at the crowd.

This only drew further gasps of amazement from them.

"Honestly, is it really that surprising?" The man's mouth split open, revealing well-developed canines, his lion-like face full of wildness and sharpness.

He was the man who would draw the Sword of Selection and become the King of Britain. The knights he encountered now might eventually become his subordinates, galloping across the battlefield together; there was no need to fuss over such trivial matters.

Ignoring the knights' astonishment, the moment he thought about drawing the sword and becoming the King of this country, he quickly suppressed his excitement and regained his composure.

Leon El'Jonson, over three meters tall this year, was currently a squire in the Caliban region.

He had originally been an ordinary person from Earth until one day he encountered a "Great Luck Iaido," and when he regained consciousness, he found himself an infant adopted by a lion in the forest.

After spending eight years with this lion mother, he met a lord named Luther, who took him out of the forest and made him his foster son.

Through these years of studying literature and martial arts, Leon had gained a general understanding of this world.

It was similar to the medieval period on Earth, featuring knights, magical beasts, fairies, magnificent magic, and powerful martial arts...

Regarding his own physique, Leon had felt he looked like a normal child before the age of eight, but after being adopted by Luther, a comparison revealed that at eight years old, he was already as tall as an average adult. Now at three meters, he estimated he would continue to grow, at least another half-meter.

Having discovered his abnormality, Leon had some speculations about his own origins...

Named after a lion, over three meters tall, unknown biological parents, an expensive foster father, armed nobles called knights...

Damn it, is there going to be a golden giant descending from the sky in a spaceship next?

Having deduced which world he had transmigrated into, Leon felt like a grot who had just had his toe stepped on.

I don't want to transmigrate into the Warhammer world!

Leon had learned some Warhammer lore in his past life. Although not much—mostly from fan fiction—it was enough. Comparing the facts, he was shocked to discover his true identity was actually the Emperor's eldest son, the Lion!

After the realization, Leon adapted quickly.

After all, he was already here...

However, since he had arrived in this cesspool of a world, he had to make some changes. The Great Crusade was too far off; he would start with small things within his reach.

For instance, unifying the planet beneath his feet...

By the time the golden giant descended, he would have the capital, the confidants, and the territory. Even if he couldn't have a foundation as solid as the Thirteenth, he at least couldn't be as incompetent as a vessel for the Butcher's Nails.

Through eight years of study, Leon had prepared a rough plan for conquering the world.

It just so happened that he heard there was a Sword of Selection in the national cathedral's graveyard, confirmed by the palace: whoever could draw this sword would become the King of Britain.

Leon understood.

It was Warhammer, after all; there were always prototypes of Earth nations, such as the Thirteenth's Five Hundred Worlds being based on Rome, the Khan's planet on the Mongols, the Wolf King's on the Norse, and so on.

Considering the Warhammer worldview was written by a British studio, it was understandable that the knightly kingdom Leon currently inhabited would include elements of "King Arthur."

Upon learning of the Sword of Selection, Leon decided to draw the blade to establish his status as King, and subsequently, to campaign across the land and unify the planet.

When Leon shared his thoughts with his foster father, Luther was also very optimistic about him.

Luther had seen Leon's extraordinary nature back when he first adopted him.

Especially after these years of guidance, Luther found that his foster son was quick-witted, possessed a photographic memory, had a towering physique, and was a master of martial arts... his virtues were countless.

If such a person didn't become King, who would?

"My son Leon has the bearing of an Emperor."

While encouraging Leon, Luther contacted his friends and subordinates, leading a large group of people to build momentum for him.

People must always look forward.

Once Leon became the King of Britain, not only would the country be saved, but he, as the foster father, and his entire family would be set for life—even if they weren't all granted titles, a lifetime of wealth was guaranteed.

He, too, was desperate for advancement!

Leon was quite satisfied with this.

As for what would happen if he couldn't draw the sword?

The thought merely flickered through Leon's mind before vanishing in an instant.

Joking, who does he think he is?

"I am the Emperor's eldest son, the most perfect Primarch, a living demigod. If I cannot pull the sword and become king, who else is worthy?"

Leon, brimming with confidence, arrived at the graveyard of the Sword of Selection under his brother's guidance.

The area around the church was packed with carriages and people, all gathered here at Luther's behest to witness the birth of a new king.

The knight walking at the very front was Leon's sworn brother, Joe.

He was Luther's biological son, two years older than Leon, and they had trained and studied together since childhood; though they shared no blood, they were closer than brothers.

Earlier, Joe had also tried to pull the sword, but unfortunately, he could not budge it.

After Leon dismounted and his attendants found a place to tie the horses and carriages, Joe struggled to lift a large bundle from the carriage and handed it to Leon.

"This is the armor Father had custom-made for you; it carries the blessing of the Fae."

As he spoke, he picked up a greatsword taller than himself and handed it to Leon as well.

"This is the greatsword made for you. It wasn't easy to forge weapons and armor that match your physique."

"Thank you, brother." Leon knew exactly what a heavy price his adoptive family had paid to craft his gear—it could be said to be the entire income of their territory for two years.

Although things like 'Fae' didn't sound like anything good in the Warhammer world, now was not the time to dwell on that.

He would settle the score later.

Joe supported Leon's thigh, looking up at a brother who stood taller than a house.

"Hurry and put it on; everyone is waiting to pay homage to the new king."

With the help of his brother and attendants, Leon donned his new armor and buckled the greatsword to his waist.

"Leon, you look truly magnificent!" Joe looked at his brother and couldn't help but nod.

Leon's plate armor shimmered with a metallic luster, primarily white with blue patterns and small gold ornaments. One hand rested on the hilt of his sword, and his blue cloak billowed in the wind behind him; he looked incredibly dashing.

"Let's go, brother. Father is still waiting."

When Leon walked into the graveyard at the back, a crowd of lords and knights had already gathered around the sword embedded in the stone, waiting for his appearance.

Leon's physique was so conspicuous that he drew everyone's attention the moment he appeared.

"So this is the son Luther is always so proud of!"

"He is indeed tall; one look and you can tell he is exceptionally valiant."

"Old Luther is a lucky man."

Among these people were friends and colleagues known to Leon or his father, Luther. It wasn't their first time meeting, but they couldn't help but sigh every time they saw Leon.

A middle-aged knight with sharp, spirited eyes led the group to Leon, looked up at the tall and heroic youth, and revealed a proud smile.

"Leon, my son, my pride, you have arrived." It was Leon's adoptive father, Luther.

Luther had gathered a crowd to build momentum for Leon and had arrived at the Sword of Selection church early to discuss the series of events following Leon's ascension with his colleagues.

"Father, I have kept you waiting." Leon half-knelt, allowing Luther to place a hand on his shoulder.

Looking at the son before him, whose face was like a lion's and whose ambition was surging, Luther patted his shoulder with satisfaction and joked, "Go on. The lords will soon be swearing their allegiance to you."

Surrounded and watched by the crowd, Leon greeted those he knew as he walked toward the Sword of Selection in the center of the graveyard.

Looking at the greatsword with half its blade buried in the stone, the sky-blue hilt, and the golden crossguard engraved with ornate patterns, Leon couldn't help but marvel.

What a fine sword.

Judging by the size of the hilt and the width of the blade, it was a two-handed greatsword. The hilt, which would require two hands for an ordinary person to grip, was just right for one of Leon's hands; to him, it was merely a short sword.

"Hah!"

Leon gripped the sword and pulled with all his might, but the blade didn't budge an inch.

Pull...

It wouldn't come out!

"What is going on?"

"Even Leon can't pull the sword out?"

"I knew it, this is just a farce. Since when is a king chosen by such a ridiculous method?"

"Impossible, absolutely impossible. Leon is so strong, how could he fail?"

The scene before them immediately set the surrounding knights to whispering.

Among the crowd, those who knew Leon were filled with disbelief, especially Luther and Joe. As the family who lived with Leon day and night, they knew exactly how strong he was—to say he could pull up a mountain wasn't a metaphor, but a literal description.

With Leon's ability, character, and his awe-inspiring kingly aura, it was impossible for him not to be able to pull out the Sword in the Stone!

If even Leon can't pull it out, who else in the world could?

It wasn't just them; even Leon himself was filled with disbelief.

It was as if his worldview had collapsed.

No way. Could it be that he didn't possess the makings of a king?

Impossible!

He is Lion El'Jonson, the Emperor's finest progeny, the Empire's premier Primarch, a demigod among men!

How could he possibly fail to draw a mere sword stuck in a stone!

Lion glanced at the surrounding knights from the corner of his eye, his heart tightening instantly.

Now is not the time for shock; the most important thing is to draw the sword! I must pull it out no matter what!

If he failed to draw the sword this time, not only would he suffer, but the reputation of Luther and his family would plummet to the depths.

It wasn't just a matter of losing face; if he couldn't draw the sword, this entire family might even be in mortal danger!

Since the previous King Uther was poisoned, Camelot had been without a king for years, with ambition rising everywhere and the hearts of the people unsettled... Luther had once hinted to Lion that if even Lion couldn't draw the sword this time, he would use his own methods to save this country.

Luther was a mere warrior; what other way could he have to save the country?

To secure the legitimacy and righteousness of Britain for Luther's upcoming rescue operation, and for the sake of his own ambition, Lion had to draw the sword!

"Haha, you aren't scared, are you? Did you really think I couldn't draw a mere sword?"

Lion raised his head proudly, offering a hearty laugh to the surrounding crowd to soothe their nerves.

"That was just a joke. Now, keep your eyes peeled—I'm about to get serious!"

These words immediately drew laughter and playful curses from the crowd, but the public sentiment truly settled down quite a bit.

Watching Lion's confident smile, Joe, though appearing to laugh and curse along with the others as if teased by Lion, was deeply worried in his heart.

As his elder brother, how could he fail to see his younger brother's predicament?

Lion was not the type to joke about such a major event!

Exchanging a glance with his father, Joe noticed that his father's brow was also full of worry.

This time, I must draw the sword!

Lion circled the Sword of Selection, his steps heavy, the ground beneath his feet cracking with every stride.

He gripped the hilt with one hand and braced the other underneath.

Lion exerted force suddenly, his face turning crimson, veins bulging on his forehead, as a series of "crackling" sounds of fragmentation echoed out.

"Yaaahhh!"

Under the gaze of everyone, the sword rose inch by inch.

BOOM!

A sound like a landslide erupted, and the spot where Lion stood was shrouded in a cloud of dust, obscuring the view, with only a silhouette flickering within.

Inside the dust, Lion held the Sword of Selection, panting heavily.

Finally...

"He pulled it out!"

This attempt had exhausted all of Lion's strength; he had never struggled so hard in his life.

Having failed the first time, Lion knew he was not the true master of this sword.

But this time, he had relied entirely on brute force unimaginable to ordinary men, shattering the stone holding the blade and the stone pedestal buried in the ground to force the sword out.

Consequently, Lion felt the sword in his hand was incredibly heavy; it was a struggle just to lift it with one hand, let alone swing it.

Heavier than a mountain peak—a million pounds or ten million? Only I could pull this out!

After all, it was the Sword of Selection; it must have been enchanted with some kind of magic or sorcery.

Lion used his hand like a blade to knock off the remaining stone fragments from the sword, holding it up to examine it closely. Despite the obscuring dust, his eyes could clearly perceive the sharpness of the blade.

Having weathered the wind and rain for all these years, the blade had neither rusted nor suffered damage, maintaining its luxury and keen edge—it was clearly a divine weapon.

It's just a bit too small and a bit too heavy for me... not quite balanced.

Lion swept his hand, creating a gust of wind that dispersed the surrounding dust.

As the dust settled, the crowd saw the situation clearly.

Lion stood in the center of a cracked and collapsed pit, facing the assembly of knights, slowly raising the Sword in the Stone high above his head. The sharp blade glinted with a cold light, dazzling the eyes of all who looked upon it.

"My lords, behold your King!"