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

“Everyone, this royal-exclusive magic train is equipped with a full suite of recovery facilities, including the latest invention from the Royal Mechanized Academy—the mana replenishment module!”

“I know you’ve all just come through some intense fighting in the ruins, so take this chance to rest and recover your mana as much as possible.”

After leading the members of Sirius Academy into the train car, Emperor Denken couldn’t help but begin an enthusiastic introduction of the train’s advanced features.

As expected from royalty—the elite who truly knew how to live—the interior of this private train was a marvel of magical luxury. Food, entertainment, rest—it had everything. There were even specialized mana restoration devices built exclusively for mages.

Francis, always fascinated by magical machinery, followed right behind the Emperor like a wide-eyed child. Everything he saw amazed him, and he kept gasping in wonder.

Alan, while far less expressive on the surface, was also taken aback.

After all, he was, in the most literal sense, a bumpkin. These magical constructs and devices were things he had neither seen nor even heard of before!

After some time spent touring the compartments, with the Emperor explaining everything in detail, his voice finally began to dry out.

“Let’s stop here for today,” Denken said, rubbing his throat. “Get some early rest. If you need anything, I’ll be in the conductor’s room.”

“Thank you for the introduction, Your Majesty. Your explanations were truly enlightening,” Blanche said politely with a graceful bow.

At that moment, she caught sight of Alan and the others still gawking around like tourists. Flustered, she quickly raised her hand and pressed down on their heads, forcing them all into deep bows as well.

Denken’s expression was a masterpiece. He clearly wanted to laugh, but was also afraid of offending Alan, so he tried desperately to hold it in. Still, strange little snorting sounds slipped out from his throat despite his efforts.

“By the way, Your Majesty,” Alan suddenly asked, “where did Archbishop Daniel go? Wasn’t he with you just earlier?”

Since boarding the train, Alan hadn’t seen a trace of Daniel. He wasn’t worried that Daniel would harm him—but he had learned the hard way that one should always be on guard, especially while traveling.

Even though the Church had been showing a consistently friendly attitude of late, there had still been moments of friction—particularly during the events in Ironblood City. That was more than enough reason for Daniel to bear a grudge.

Noticing the flicker of suspicion in Alan’s eyes, Denken quickly explained, “Oh, him? He took a squad of elite church knights and is currently lying in wait around the train, keeping watch on the surroundings.”

“Rest assured. That old man’s eyes are as sharp as ever. Even I have to admit it.”

“I see… then I’ll go get some rest.” Alan nodded to the Emperor, then turned and entered his private cabin.

The others were all tired too. After a quick wash, they each headed to bed for some much-needed rest.

Once the students had all left, Denken clasped his hands behind his back and strolled slowly toward the rear end of the train.

At the junction between two cars, Old Gayle lay collapsed on the floor like a pile of rags. The scent of alcohol wafting off him was strong enough to make even a seasoned drinker blush.

Denken didn’t say a word. He silently approached, bent down, and picked up the silver flask lying by the man’s side.

Suddenly, Old Gayle’s eyes snapped open. He lunged and grabbed Denken’s wrist.

“Put that down! I’m not done drinking!”

But Denken didn’t even look at him. With a flick, he shook off Gayle’s grip, raised the flask, and emptied the rest of the liquid into his own mouth.

Old Gayle shouted in outrage, scrambling to his feet and looking like he was ready to wrestle the Emperor for the bottle.

Before he could launch himself, Denken raised a hand and said, “Answer one question for me, and I’ll tell you where I keep the real alcohol on this train.”

“And not just any alcohol—it’s a red wine vintage from Magical Year 82, brewed by none other than the legendary winemaker, Master Raffel!”

Gayle knew full well that someone of Denken’s stature could easily procure such rare vintages. But he couldn’t guess what the Emperor wanted to ask. Wasn’t his stance in this conflict already obvious?

Stubborn by nature, Old Gayle defaulted to his safest tactic: silence.

But then the attendants entered—each carrying a bottle of the promised wine. Their labels sparkled with enchantments, instantly recognizable to any connoisseur.

Old Gayle broke.

“…What do you want to ask?”

He locked eyes with the bottles, barely glancing at Denken.

The Emperor smiled cheerfully. “Tell me… who’s the one backing Alan?”

“Or rather—who’s been helping him grow at such a staggering pace?”

Gayle surged forward, snatched a bottle from the attendant’s hands, and took a long swig like he was gargling mouthwash—revenge for the earlier theft of his flask.

Then he smacked his lips and burped loudly.

“I don’t know.”

Denken froze. Then his expression turned dark with frustration.

He stormed up and grabbed Gayle by the collar, roaring, “You drunk old bastard! Do you take me for a child?! Alan eats and sleeps at Sirius Academy. You’re his headmaster! And now you’re telling me you don’t know?! What kind of joke is that?!”

Gayle looked completely unbothered. He shoved Denken back and explained calmly:

“No, you’ve misunderstood. I wasn’t trying to fool you—I genuinely don’t know.”

“That person behind Alan? Never showed up. Since Alan entered the Academy, I haven’t detected even a single suspicious mana fluctuation nearby.”

“And besides… weren’t you also the one who speculated that Alan’s freakishly fast growth might be the result of some mysterious backer? So why is it that I must know, but you can keep guessing?”

It was a reasonable argument. For a moment, Denken had no response.

After a pause, still unwilling to give up, he asked again, “You’re really saying you don’t know?”

Gayle sighed in annoyance. “Why don’t you go ask Alan yourself? He’s never told me anything about how or why he’s progressed so fast. And I never asked. As long as he remains my student in name, that’s enough.”

Realizing he wouldn’t be able to extract any useful information—and having wasted several bottles of fine wine in the process—Denken couldn’t help but feel a little bitter.

After all, he’d intended to drink those himself.

With his mood soured, the Emperor activated his mana projection and opened a communication channel with Daniel.

“How’s your side of things?” he asked.

“Everything’s under control,” came the reply. “Looks like Gayle’s assessment was accurate—Stephen and Lioncrest Academy still need time to gather their forces for an all-out assault.”

Denken let out a quiet chuckle.

“Heh… it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you this motivated, Daniel.”

“The way you’re acting now—it’s just like how the Church behaved when it first arrived in Charlie, using every trick in the book to seize territory and believers from the royal family.”

There was a hidden edge in his voice.

Daniel smiled politely, but his tone turned cold.

“If you’ve got something to say, Your Majesty, just say it outright. No need to bring up ancient history as bait.”

Denken’s expression darkened.

“Very well,” he said in a steely voice. “Then I’ll be blunt.”

“What is the real reason you’re helping Alan?”

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