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

“That’s right! Those bastards should be the ones on their knees! Lining up our senior brothers’ corpses like trophies in the middle of the road—do they have even a shred of humanity left?!”

Francis was seething with anger as he spoke. The expressions on Fort and Blanche’s faces were no better—grim and filled with restrained fury.

The four of them stood in silence for a moment of mourning, then stepped past the bodies, heading straight for the main hall of Lioncrest Academy.

BANG!

The white oak doors, a century-old legacy of the academy, were kicked open by Alan with one resounding blow.

Inside the grand hall, a dense crowd had gathered—hundreds of students from Lioncrest Academy filled the room.

On the other side of the hall, Vice Headmaster Kelin stood atop the podium, his expression dark and hostile as he stared at Alan. “Enough! That’s enough! Just how long do you intend to keep hounding Lioncrest? Is it because we didn’t let you in years ago? Are you still nursing that grudge? And now, even our Headmaster has died by your hands, and still, you’re not satisfied?!”

Alan didn’t respond directly. Instead, his sharp gaze swept across every face in the room, every student of Lioncrest present.

Francis leaned in beside him and whispered, “Hey Alan, isn’t this Kelin guy the same geezer our old Headmaster beat the stuffing out of last time? Why does he still look like he’s perfectly fine?”

Alan calmly explained, “High-level mages can redirect mana to heal themselves. The physical body is just a vessel composed of various trace elements and flesh. As long as the injury doesn’t reach the mana core, they can recover quickly.”

“Ohhh, I see. Man, you know a lot!”

“No, this is just basic knowledge. Read more books and you’d understand too.”

Alan stopped responding to Francis and instead took a deep breath. He looked up and locked eyes with Kelin on the podium.

“Vice Headmaster Kelin, you’re mistaken. My companions and I did not come here to pick a fight with Lioncrest Academy. We’ve come to ask for your help.”

Kelin blinked, then let out a cold laugh. “Help? Ha… help? You arrogant brat, you’ve got the nerve to come begging for help now? You must be insane!”

“No. I’m not insane. In fact,” Alan’s voice turned eerily calm, “I’ve never been more clear-headed in my life.”

Kelin’s words caught in his throat. Seeing the unnervingly tranquil expression on Alan’s face, a strange fear crept into his heart.

“What… what kind of help do you want?”

Alan smiled. “Oh, don’t worry. It’s nothing too troublesome. I merely ask that you, Vice Headmaster of Lioncrest Academy, along with your students, help us carry the bodies of the Sirius students outside… but not upright—no. You must carry them on your knees. On your knees, as a sign of repentance.”

The moment he finished speaking, the hall erupted into chaos. Every Lioncrest student present glared at Alan with fury burning in their eyes.

Kelin was so enraged he nearly choked, coughing violently as his face turned a dark shade of crimson. “Fine! Fine! You dare mock us with this twisted sense of justice?! I’ll tell you right now, Alan, those dead losers don’t deserve to be brought back. They don’t even deserve—”

Before he could finish, Alan vanished from his spot. In the blink of an eye, he appeared directly in front of Kelin and grabbed him by the throat with one hand. His voice dropped to a terrifying growl, like a demon emerging from the pits of hell.

“They were not losers… You—you all—are the true failures!”

Alan’s sudden move was a signal. Immediately, Francis sprang into action as well.

In his left hand, he held his Apple-shaped magic tool; in his right, the enchanted kettle. The mana flowing from his body surged into both artifacts, doubling the amplification and creating a gravity field strong enough to rival even platinum-level mages.

The overwhelming pressure sent dozens of Lioncrest students crashing to the ground. Those closest to Francis were crushed into pulp beneath the intensified gravity.

Fort and Blanche didn’t stay idle either. They charged into the fray with everything they had.

Fort’s fighting style wasn’t fancy. Activating his sharpened metal-element body, he bulldozed his way through the crowd. When struck, his Thorned Bracers would launch a counterattack, and with Blanche providing healing and stamina support from the rear, he had no reason to hold back or worry about running out of steam.

“Today, Lioncrest Academy will fall. Even if a god descends from the heavens, none of you will be spared!”

With both hands, Alan gripped Kelin’s face and drove his knee up into it with brutal force.

Kelin couldn’t react in time. His nose, eyes, and mouth were crushed in an instant, blood spraying in all directions as he howled in pain.

“Aghhh! Bastard! You crazy bastard! Are you really going to drag us all down with you?! I’m warning you, even an old lion’s mane still carries weight! Once we launch our full counterattack, you and your little gang will be wiped out!”

“Then do it!” Alan roared back, fearless.

“If I can take down all of Lioncrest Academy with me, then this life is more than worth it!”

“Fine! Then I’ll grant your wish!”

Finally, Kelin’s reinforcements arrived.

Outside the grand hall, four figures materialized. Clad in white robes and radiating diamond-tier mana, they were none other than the elite Lioncrest Guard—the same ones who had once fought against Stephen and Old Gayle.

Seeing his backup, Kelin spat out a mouthful of blood and tore off his tattered robe.

Raising his chin defiantly, he shouted, “Alan! Surrender now! We have four diamond-tier elites and over a hundred gold and platinum-tier mages. You only have four people. What are you going to fight us with?”

And he wasn’t wrong.

Though Alan was powerful—capable of fighting a hundred opponents—those were just words. Facing a hundred trained and fully enraged mages, even someone with infinite mana would eventually tire.

Francis and the others were in the same boat. No matter how strong, how efficient, they were still only human.

Thud… thud… thud…

Just when Kelin thought Alan would finally see reason and retreat, a strange noise began to echo from beyond the hall.

Footsteps. Rhythmic, unified, and countless.

Kelin frowned. Who would be so foolish as to barge into Lioncrest in the middle of this chaos?

But when he used mana to enhance his sight and clearly saw what was outside…

He froze.

It was an army.

A coalition of soldiers and church followers. Though all wore civilian clothes and had torn off any insignias of rank or affiliation, their identities were unmistakable.

Because in a time like this, the only ones who would stand with Alan…

Were the royal family of Charlie—

And the Church.

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