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

“What are you doing acting all polite with me?”Alan’s tone grew a bit irritated as he stepped forward, picked up the magical jug Francis had just put back on the ground, and stuffed it back into his arms.

“Sure, it’s true that the situation this time was resolved thanks to a certain senior of mine, but don’t downplay your own efforts. You guys played a significant role too. These rewards—you’ve earned them, fair and square!”

His gaze shifted to Fort.

“Fort, I know your bloodline is special, and your sharpened metal-elemental body grants you unique advantages in battle. But you can’t rely on brute resilience forever. A true mage isn’t defined by strength alone, but by the ability to adapt—on the fly, in combat. If you keep playing the role of a walking sandbag, that’s all you’ll ever be.”

With that said, Alan crouched down and began rummaging through the pile of loot scattered across the ground. After a moment, he retrieved a pair of wristguards shaped like intertwined thorns and handed them to Fort.

“Here. These bracers reflect any damage you take back to the attacker through thorn magic. For someone like you—a human shield—they’re perfect.”

“Alright!”

Seeing Alan’s unwavering tone, Fort didn’t bother being overly polite. He strapped the thorned wristguards onto his wrists with a grunt.

In an instant, crimson blood began seeping from the surface of his skin, and Fort’s expression twisted with pain—as though he were being tortured by a thousand blades.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Are you sure this thing is a piece of magical equipment and not some medieval torture device?”Francis, watching from the side, had gone pale with fright.

Alan furrowed his brow, eyes focused intently on the flow of mana within Fort’s body. After a few seconds, he raised his index finger to his lips, signaling the others to keep silent.

“Quiet. Just watch.”

“Ugh… AAAAH!!!”Fort’s screams only intensified, echoing across the space. Just as the others began to grow visibly concerned, Alan took a sudden step forward and punched Fort squarely in the chest.

Oddly enough, Fort remained standing, completely unfazed. Instead, it was Alan who was sent flying several meters back. His arm was covered in bloody holes, the result of some mysterious force.

“W-What the hell was that?!”Fort stared down at his hands, visibly stunned and confused.

Alan got back to his feet, channeling vital energy to patch up the wounds on his arm. His voice was steady but slightly hoarse.

“You see now? That’s the effect of thorn magic—reflected damage in action. It’s powerful, but the wristguards are wood-element based, which doesn’t align well with your original metal affinity. You’ll need to gradually harmonize them with your element. Once you do, the counterattack effect will become even more devastating.”

His words painted a vivid picture in everyone’s minds.

Fort, standing alone amidst a siege of enemy mages, unflinching. Not attacking, not even flinching—just bracing. Moments later, every mage who dared lay a finger on him collapses in agony, their bodies riddled with hundreds of puncture wounds from an unknown source.

The image was nothing short of terrifying.

Now, if Fort were to top that scene off by sneering and saying, “I didn’t even try… and you’ve all fallen? Pathetic,” it would be the epitome of cool. Just imagining it was thrilling enough to make one shiver.

Francis’s eyes sparkled with envy and admiration. He darted over to Alan and practically begged, “What about me? What about me? Can you find me something that awesome too?”

Alan shot him a glance, then eyed the magical jug Francis was holding with the tenderness of a new parent cradling a newborn.

A smirk tugged at Alan’s lips. “What’s this? Didn’t you say you were planning to sell that thing?”

Francis immediately shook his head like a rattle drum.

“This treasure? Sell it? No way! But its effect is kinda like that apple-shaped artifact from before—they both just enhance my skill output. Do you think I should trade it in for something else?”

He looked at Alan with puppy-dog eyes, clearly hoping for an upgrade.

Alan thought for a moment before shaking his head.

“No. Honestly, I don’t think there’s any other piece of equipment in here that suits you better than that jug.”

“Huh? Why not?”

Alan’s expression turned serious. “Think about it. What’s your specialty? Gravity magic. It shares the same root as the gravitational spells Old Gayle used to cast. You’ve seen what he could do—make entire stars drop from the sky with a flick of his wrist. With your current power level, you’re nowhere near that yet. But with this magical jug, plus the apple artifact you already have, your skill effectiveness and range will be boosted by two full tiers!”

“Do you realize what that means? Right now, even though you’re only Tier-Silver, the power of your spells will rival those of a Tier-Platinum mage!”

“And when you actually reach Tier-Platinum one day, you won’t just be on par with Old Gayle—you’ll surpass him.”

Francis stood there, completely dumbfounded. It took a while for the meaning to sink in before he stammered, “Wait… you’re saying that once I reach Tier-Platinum, I’ll be stronger than Old Gayle?”

“Alan, you’re not messing with me, are you?”

“I never joke. Especially not with people I care about.”

“YEAH!!! That’s incredible!”Francis jumped nearly three feet in the air, his booming voice echoing joyfully. “From now on, I’m never letting this magical jug out of my sight—not even when I eat or go to the bathroom!”

The excitement on his face was genuine. The idea that his abilities could one day rival those of a legendary figure like Gayle, and the fact that Alan believed in him—that belief meant the world to him. It was a kind of validation and pride he had never felt before.

Blanche stood off to the side, smiling warmly at her companions.

She felt genuinely happy for them—not just because they had received powerful items, but because Alan had an uncanny ability to pick out the gear that suited them perfectly. His insight, his thoughtfulness—it amazed her.

Just as she was lost in thought, she noticed Alan walking toward her.

Only this time, he wasn’t holding anything in his hands.

“Blanche… I’m sorry,” he began softly. “Given your past fighting style, the skill ‘Mana Compression’ would be ideal for you. But it’s a technique I learned from another mage. Without his explicit permission, I can’t pass it on. I hope you understand…”

Blanche shook her head gently. “It’s alright, Alan. I’ve long been aware of my own limitations. I may have wanted to follow in my grandfather’s footsteps, but the reality is—my physical strength and speed just don’t match up to you guys. I’m a female mage trying to brute-force close-range combat. It’s just not sustainable.”

“I’ve already decided,” she said firmly. “From now on, I’ll forge a new path—a style of magic that suits me better. I’ll do my best not to hold the team back.”

“Blanche, don’t say that!” Francis ran over in a rush. “If you hadn’t held off that ice-element mage with everything you had, we would’ve been overwhelmed during the bounty hunters’ first wave. You’re vital to this team—you’ve gotta believe in yourself more!”

The cloud that had weighed down Blanche’s heart seemed to lift, if only slightly. A faint smile returned to her lips.

“I’ve already made my decision, Francis. I’m not going back on it.”

Alan, who had been quiet, asked thoughtfully, “So… have you already figured out what path you want to pursue?”

Blanche nodded. “Yes. Alan, I know you possess some kind of healing ability… but it doesn’t seem to last, right? Otherwise, you wouldn’t have ended up so badly beaten by Stephen the other day.”

Alan’s cheeks flushed. “Come on, do we have to bring that up again? That was pretty embarrassing…”

“Heh, so you do know how to feel embarrassed.” She chuckled. “But don’t worry. I’m not trying to rub it in—I just wanted to say, I’ve decided to focus on healing magic from now on. That way, after each battle, I can help everyone recover quickly. What do you think? Isn’t that a good plan?”

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