Imprisoned for a Trillion Years, I Was Worshipped by All Gods!

“This bond of yours… truly touching,” the man in a single-layered tunic sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. “But I’m afraid none of you are leaving here alive today!”

With a sudden roar, he turned toward Alan and his companions, bellowing with fury. Then, sweeping his gaze across the surrounding jungle, he barked in irritation, “What a bunch of cowards! Just going to stand there watching?! Let me make this clear—if you don’t show yourselves now, then forget about claiming this bounty!”

“The last few attackers who went after him ended up dead, one after another. Tell me—when it comes to one-on-one combat, who among us can actually beat this Alan?!”

No sooner had the words left his lips than several figures silently emerged from the deeper shadows of the forest, flickering like ghosts between the trees.

These hidden mages had been lying in wait, and now they revealed themselves—most of them stood at the peak of tier-gold strength. Among them was another, clad similarly to the tunic-wearing man, a genuine tier-platinum powerhouse.

If these mages truly chose to join forces, then even Alan would be in grave danger. The odds were stacked against him.

“Really now?” A lazy yet clear voice suddenly pierced through the growing tension. “All of you, ganging up on a child? And you still dare call yourselves mages?”

The attackers froze mid-step, their aggression stalled by the unexpected interruption. One by one, they turned toward the source of the voice.

There, leaning against a large tree trunk, stood a man clad in worn, black armor—its edges frayed, its plates battered. He looked more like a destitute knight than any kind of threat. Dark bags hung beneath his bloodshot eyes, making it obvious he hadn’t had a proper rest in days, if not weeks.

Strapped to his back and waist were two broken swords. Rust mottled the blades, their edges chipped and sheaths missing. They hung exposed in the air, as if the man no longer cared to hide their shame.

The disheveled man raised his head lazily and cast an uninterested glance at the assembled attackers. His gaze lingered with contempt.

The tunic-wearing man frowned slightly, suddenly wary. “You’re not on the bounty list. Who the hell are you?”

The weary knight scratched his head, muttering, “I’m your long-lost father.”

A flush of crimson instantly crept up the attacker’s face. He didn’t even need to look around to know that his fellow assailants were desperately trying to hold back their laughter.

“You bastard! You dare humiliate me in front of everyone? You must have a death wish!”

Without warning, the man lunged forward, launching a brutal whip-like kick toward the knight.

But the knight didn’t flinch. He calmly placed his right hand on the hilt of the sword at his waist, and in that instant, the fatigue in his eyes vanished. What replaced it was a razor-sharp clarity—lethal and unforgiving.

He moved.

The broken blade arced ever so slightly through the air.

He didn’t even touch his attacker—but something shifted.

Time itself seemed to freeze.

The attacker, mid-kick, suddenly stalled midair, his body suspended unnaturally as if gravity and momentum had simply ceased to exist.

“Fall.”

The knight growled, voice low and commanding.

A thunderous crash followed.

The tunic-clad man howled in pain, slamming into the ground. Yet no blade had pierced his flesh. There was no blood.

Still, his abdomen had caved inward—an invisible force had struck with terrifying power, like the lash of a giant’s leg.

Gasps echoed through the clearing.

The attacker lay limp on the ground, trembling. He raised his head with difficulty and stared at the knight with eyes full of hatred.

But the knight wasn’t even looking at him anymore.

He turned his gaze toward Alan.

“I may not be on the bounty list,” he said casually, “but what I came here to do isn’t all that different.”

“Still, I don’t like this ‘many versus one’ kind of setup. Here’s what we’ll do—you fight them first. If you win, I’ll give you the honor of challenging me. But if you lose… well, I’ll kill them all and then take you on myself.”

Alan showed no sign of fear, even in the face of such an absurd declaration. This made the knight grin.

“Bold, aren’t you?” he chuckled. “Now I can’t tell if you’re brave or just an idiot.”

Before Alan could speak, Francis stepped forward angrily. “Hey, are you insane? You’re saying Alan has to beat all of them first just to earn the right to fight you? And if he can’t beat them, you’ll do it for him?”

“That’s just your excuse to let those other bounty hunters wear him down first, isn’t it? Drain his mana, tire him out, so that when you step in for your so-called ‘honorable duel,’ it’ll be an easy win—and you walk away with the reward.”

“You make it sound so noble, but you’re just a two-faced schemer like the rest of them.”

Francis jabbed a finger toward the knight. “My brother can’t stand people like you—acting all high and mighty on the outside, but playing dirty in the shadows. Walk away now, and we’ll pretend none of this happened. But if you so much as try to touch him—I swear, Alan will cut you into minced meat!”

The knight yawned and picked at his ear as if bored. “You done ranting?”

He shot Francis a sidelong glance. “Don’t worry. Once I’m done with Alan, you and that little girl won’t be going anywhere either… Wait, that’s extra work, isn’t it? Hah, forget it. You two better scram. I won’t waste my precious energy on useless trash.”

“YOU SON OF A—!” Francis exploded, face turning crimson as he unleashed a stream of profanity.

But just then, from deep within the rainforest, another voice rang out—a soft chuckle, delicate and ambiguous.

Everyone turned toward the sound.

A man stepped out from the jungle shadows, dressed in a flowing red silk robe. He was androgynously handsome, his features refined, his demeanor almost ethereal. In one hand, he held a silver astrolabe that shimmered under the filtered sunlight.

Though his movements were gentle and composed, he moved with a speed comparable to a tier-gold mage at full sprint—an uncanny contrast that sent unease rippling through the crowd.

The knight raised an eyebrow. “Holmes. Shouldn’t you be off playing detective somewhere? What are you doing here?”

Holmes smiled gently, then looked at the knight. “Claude, aren’t you the last person who should be questioning others? After all, you wiped out the entire Laun family and now strut around Jacob’s Ruins like you own the place. Compared to that, my presence here is perfectly justified.”

Claude bit his lip and mumbled, “You strategists are all the same. Scheming cowards. I can’t out-talk you. How about we settle this with a duel?”

Holmes chuckled, pulling a pipe from inside his robe and taking a puff. “Oh please. I’ve no interest in brawling with a wild mutt like you. Whether I win or lose, I’d still come away reeking of dog fur. I’ll pass. Let’s hear what the boy has to say.”

Turning to Alan, Holmes gave him a long, appraising look. “Hmm… fascinating. Truly fascinating. I thought the Plantagenet Kingdom had peaked with Rose Duke Alice. But now—now I see they’ve bred an even more terrifying monster.”

Alan, tired of being constantly compared to Alice, lifted his Lumen Sancta and pointed it directly at Holmes.

“If you want to fight, then bring it on. If not, then shut up and get lost—I’m not here to listen to you ramble.”

Holmes opened his eyes slightly, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Ramble? I wouldn’t call it that.”

“Everyone thinks I’m just an investigator. But truth is—I’m an investor.”

“And you, little monster… you look like one hell of a promising investment.”

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