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

Thanks to Alan’s tireless efforts, Sirius Academy’s spoils from the fall of Lioncrest were nothing short of astonishing: three tier-diamond magic artifacts, seventeen pieces of gold and tier-platinum magical equipment and items, five tier-platinum skill scrolls, five million mana stones, and an uncountable number of valuable mana cores, high-grade potions, and other rare goods.

Francis was so thrilled he nearly passed out from excitement, flopping onto the ground and twitching like he was in shock.

“Heh… hehehe… so much money! So much treasure!”

Fort struggled to pull him back to his feet, trying to maintain at least a shred of dignity for their group. But the wildly grinning corners of his own mouth betrayed how overjoyed he was as well.

A short while later, the Lioncrest Academy vault that had once been packed to the brim now lay completely stripped—every shelf emptied, every container looted. Not a single scrap remained.

Alan, ever cautious, had not loaded all the treasures directly into the magical storage pouch given to him by the Emperor. He’d placed a few symbolic items inside for appearance’s sake.

The rest, however, he had absorbed into the First Layer of the Abyss.

Only there could he feel completely secure.

Once the spoils had been collected, Alan led the group out of the hall. Standing at the academy’s main gate, he summoned a surge of fire element and unleashed it upon Lioncrest Academy.

In moments, flames engulfed the ancient institution, and the inferno’s reflection danced in the eyes of all who watched—bright, wild, and final.

Strangely, Alan no longer felt any hatred in his heart. The ones deserving of his hatred had already paid the ultimate price.

What remained was a deep, overwhelming sensation of release—a liberation that surged through every fiber of his being.

They say vengeance only breeds more vengeance, that violence is a cycle with no end.

But Alan didn’t care.

What mattered to him was this moment—this now. He had tasted the satisfaction of revenge, and it was real.

He also understood something else: without the closure granted by today’s blood and fire, he would never have been able to move forward. The chains of regret would have bound him forever, dragging him down, feeding the endless cycle of grudges.

The senior sister standing beside him seemed to read the emotions on his face. She gently rested her hand on his shoulder and said in a soft voice, “It’s over now. Let’s go home.”

Alan turned to look at Blanche, meeting her gaze with a steady, determined expression.

“Yes. Let’s go home.”

He and Francis bid farewell to Daniel and Emperor Denken, then began the journey back to Sirius Academy.

Oddly enough, it was quite the contrast. When they had first set out for Lioncrest, they had gathered half the city in a massive, thunderous force.

But now, on their return, it was just the four of them—quiet and calm. The difference was almost surreal.

Watching their silhouettes fade into the distance, Daniel let out a long sigh.

“Now that Lioncrest has been destroyed, Sirius Academy no longer has any rivals in the kingdom. I can’t help but wonder… how far will these young people go in the future?”

This time, Emperor Denken was unusually contemplative. Rubbing a mana stone between his fingers, he spoke lightly.

“Who can say what the future holds? Old priest, shouldn’t this be your moment now? Go ahead and pray to your god or whatever, bless them so their paths stay smooth.”

“Hah… I suppose you’re right.”

Daniel gave a small smile, bowed his head, and began to recite a sacred blessing in a low, solemn voice.

…

By dusk, the setting sun had painted the horizon blood-red.

Alan and the others returned, bathed in golden light, followed closely by a few Lioncrest students. These former enemies now looked like stray dogs—ragged, defeated, and still burdened with the corpses of fallen Sirius students on their backs.

Once they reached the Gayle Dome, Alan directed the Lioncrest students to place the bodies into the empty graves they had dug earlier.

Blanche hurried forward, scooping earth with her hands and gently covering the bodies. Every handful of dirt that fell from her fingers was accompanied by silent tears slipping down her cheeks.

These upperclassmen of Sirius… when they’d entered the academy, she had still been just a little girl, hiding behind Gayle’s legs, watching them from the shadows as they sparred in the training grounds.

Back then, they had seemed so full of promise, so full of life.

Now they lay lifeless, buried beneath the soil.

Sirius still stood—but the first generation of wolf cubs raised by the academy had all perished.

The world remained, yet the people were no more.

Alan and Francis stepped forward to comfort her, helping to fill in the graves with solemn expressions. No one spoke for a long time.

Eventually, the burial was complete. A dozen Sirius students now rested beneath the earth.

Francis turned to Alan, face dark.

“What about them?” he whispered, eyes narrowing as he glanced at the kneeling Lioncrest remnants. “Want me to finish them off?”

Alan let out a sigh and shook his head.

“Spare them. Just because they belonged to Lioncrest doesn’t mean they all participated in the atrocities.”

Francis blinked, surprised.

“You’re planning to let them go?”

Alan nodded.

“More or less. I’ll give them a chance.”

“What kind of chance?”

Alan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he turned to the Lioncrest students and gave them a small, unreadable smile.

“I’m about to launch a number of mana spikes. Some will be real, some will be illusions. If you’re struck by a real one—you die. If it’s an illusion, you live.”

“Your fates will be decided by destiny.”

The Lioncrest students exchanged terrified glances, their faces pale.

Each one prayed, begged silently that the spike headed their way would be an illusion.

But as time passed, and more and more of their comrades collapsed beside them, the last remaining student broke down and screamed.

“You… you’re lying! There are no illusions, are there?! You’re just murdering us!”

Alan clicked his tongue.

“Hey now, that’s not fair. I did include illusions. If none of you survived, maybe that just means fate wasn’t on your side. Don’t blame me.”

And with that, he drove the final mana spike into the last student’s skull.

And so, the Lioncrest Academy—a near-century-old institution—was wiped completely from the Plantagenet Kingdom. Not a single trace remained.

Francis, half-laughing and half-exasperated, turned to Alan.

“You weren’t planning to let any of them live, were you? Then why bother giving them false hope? Why create such an elaborate illusion?”

Alan chuckled softly.

“Killing them outright would’ve been too easy. But giving them hope first, then tearing it away right in front of their eyes—that’s how you inflict the deepest pain.”

“Damn, that’s terrifying. You’re not just killing bodies—you’re killing hearts. Alan, promise me you’ll never use that kind of method on one of us…”

Alan shot him a look. “Say one more word, and I’ll shove a mana spike into your skull right now. Want to test me?”

Francis clutched his head, retreating two steps while grinning sheepishly.

“Haha, I was just joking. You’re the strong and generous new Headmaster of Sirius! You’d never stoop to bickering with a lowly student like me, right?”

He even blinked at Alan with big, innocent eyes.

Alan was so irritated he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Are you serious? Who said you’re still a student? You’re Sirius Academy’s official Public Relations Ambassador now—responsible for all external affairs.”

“And by the way, I want you to research the family backgrounds of the students we just buried. I’ll pull some mana stones from our spoils—you’ll deliver them to the families as compensation. Consider it a proper funeral gift.”

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