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

“Investor?”

Alan shot Holmes a puzzled look. Clearly, he didn’t quite understand what the man was getting at.

Holmes tucked away his smoking pipe, and the playfulness faded from his expression. His demeanor shifted—serious, composed, and oddly dignified.

“Alan,” Holmes began, his tone calm but resolute, “I know exactly why you came to the Jacob Ruins. It’s for your sister—Isabella. You came here to rescue her. If that’s the case, I have a proposal for you.”

Without warning, Holmes tore off his flowing red silk robe and tossed it aside, revealing a set of intricately forged, crimson armor underneath. The armor was not just ornate—it radiated strength, its plates shimmering like blood-forged steel, refined and battle-hardened.

“I’ll personally see to it that you and your companions make it out of this place alive,” Holmes continued. “But on one condition—you agree to fulfill three requests from me.”

Alan swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He stared directly at the strange man. “What kind of requests?”

Holmes gave him a reassuring smile. “No rush. I’m not asking you to fulfill them right now. You’re still young, and we both have plenty of time.”

Alan narrowed his eyes, the suspicion rising in his gut. “If your requests involve harming the innocent or anything morally twisted, then forget it. I’d rather die here than turn my sword on someone who doesn’t deserve it.”

For a moment, Holmes looked at him with admiration, even warmth. He clapped a hand on Alan’s shoulder. “Good. That’s exactly what I hoped you’d say. Don’t worry—I won’t ask you to do anything evil. In fact, these requests will be very simple for someone like you.”

“Really?” Alan’s voice carried a note of skepticism.

He had every right to be cautious.

He was completely surrounded by elite attackers, many at the peak of tier-gold strength, with at least one tier-platinum threat still loitering nearby—Claude, the scruffy knight who had yet to make a move. Though Claude had claimed he would only fight after Alan dealt with the others, who knew what such a wild card would actually do in battle?

Alan’s life had taught him one thing—never take anyone at their word, no matter how convincing their tone. The world was a place of deception, and every promise carried hidden blades.

But still… Isabella was waiting.

And right now, getting her out of this cursed place was the only thing that mattered.

“…Fine. I agree,” Alan finally said.

He had no other choice.

If surviving meant accepting Holmes’ mysterious deal—then so be it. The future could be reckoned with later.

Holmes grinned, pleased. “I knew I wasn’t wrong about you.”

Once again, he patted Alan on the shoulder, then turned to face the attackers scattered through the clearing. His voice rang out loud and clear.

“You all heard the deal. I’ve just reached an agreement with Alan. He’s agreed to help me in the future—and in exchange, I will protect him and his allies. So I’m afraid none of you are claiming the bounty today.”

Instantly, murmurs of discontent erupted among the attackers.

“Hey, what the hell gives you the right to make that call?!”

“Yeah! Unless you’re planning to pay us something equal to the bounty, that kid’s life is ours!”

Their complaints rang through the forest—but before they could finish, something eerie occurred.

The red silk robe Holmes had discarded earlier suddenly twitched.

It moved on its own—slithering across the forest floor like a venomous serpent. In a flash, it reached one of the protesting attackers and slipped up behind him.

Before the man could even react, the living robe sprang forward, plunging itself into his open mouth and nostrils.

Gurgling noises filled the air as the fabric forced itself into his body. In a matter of seconds, his form began to wither—his limbs shriveling, his eyes bulging, his veins blackening under his skin. It was as if the blood had been drained from him, leaving behind a hollow husk.

Then, as abruptly as it had entered, the red robe slithered back out through his mouth.

The cloth gleamed brighter now, its crimson hue deepened by the fresh blood it had consumed.

The clearing fell into stunned silence.

No one dared challenge Holmes again.

After all, he hadn’t even lifted a finger. Just his robe—a piece of enchanted equipment—had effortlessly killed a peak-tier-gold mage. A feat like that could only be accomplished by someone at least tier-platinum… or higher.

Even the tunic-clad man, who had been leading the attack earlier, now looked at Holmes with fear and caution in his eyes.

But Holmes ignored the rest of them. With a blur of movement, he appeared beside Isabella and stood protectively in front of her.

The little girl blinked up at him, her tone filled with innocent curiosity. “Uncle, you’re really strange… All these people want to kill my brother. But you—you’re helping him. Why?”

Holmes let out an awkward chuckle. He hadn’t expected such a pure, direct question. For a moment, he hesitated—how could he explain the concept of an “investment” to a child?

“Ahem… Isabella,” he began, kneeling down so he was level with her, “Let me put it this way. Imagine you have two choices.”

“First, someone gives you a big allowance. Lots of money—you could buy anything you want.”

“Second, there’s a close friend. Someone who’s been with you since you were little. You’ve had many good memories together. But if you choose the allowance, you’ll lose that friend forever.”

“Now, here’s the twist: You know this friend will become someone very important in the future. Someone who could help you in ways money never could.”

“Which would you choose?”

Isabella didn’t hesitate. “I’d pick the friend. Money can be earned again. But if a friend’s gone, they’re really gone.”

Holmes smiled, nodding approvingly. “That’s why I chose to help your brother.”

“Oh…” Isabella blinked, still looking a little confused. But she quickly nodded. “Even if I don’t get it all yet, I understand one thing—you’re my brother’s friend. That means you’re my friend too! And don’t worry, Uncle—I’ll find a way to repay your kindness someday. I won’t let my brother handle everything alone.”

Holmes stared at her, visibly moved. In that moment, he wasn’t looking at a helpless child—he saw the same strength, the same integrity, that Alan carried. It was part of their blood, carved into their bones.

He had made the right choice.

What Holmes didn’t know, however, was that one day, the roles would be reversed. The protector would become the one needing protection. And this girl—this bright-eyed child—would stand where he stood now.

Just then, Alan took a step forward. His eyes were sharp, locked on the attackers still frozen in place.

The tunic-clad man tensed.

Alan pointed to his own chest—his heart—and sneered. “You want my life? Come and take it.”

“You arrogant little—!”

The attacker could no longer endure the humiliation. Even with Holmes and Claude nearby, his pride burned. Being taunted like this was more than he could take.

“Kill him!!”

With a furious shout, he lunged at Alan, leading the remaining attackers in a frenzied charge.

Against one or two of them, Alan would be fine. But dozens? Even with all his skill, he couldn’t fend them off alone.

Then it happened.

The clash of metal echoed through the forest—clear, rhythmic, and unyielding.

A figure burst from the shadows behind Alan. A small golden humanoid, its body gleaming with a metallic sheen, interposed itself between Alan and the oncoming attackers.

It parried and deflected most of the attacks, moving with inhuman precision.

Alan and Francis both let out a breath of relief.

Francis wasted no time. “Fort! What the hell took you so long? I’ve been waiting forever!”

The golden warrior—Fort—snapped a blade lodged in his arm like it was made of glass. He turned and offered a sheepish smile.

“Sorry. On my way here, I passed over a ravine full of magnetic ore… and, well… I hadn’t deactivated my metal-element bloodline yet. Just being cautious.”

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