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

Blanche, panic rising in her chest, shakily pulled out another rune stone and sent an urgent message to the academy.

Then, she pushed her wounded body forward, forcing herself toward the front gates of Sirius Academy, desperate to catch up with Alan.

Meanwhile, in the heart of the capital—

Alan stormed through the bustling streets like a wild tempest.

He overturned vendor stalls, shattered stone walls, and even forcibly stopped several carriages, all without pause or apology.

People screamed. Others hurled curses at him. But he didn't care.

He had only one goal: Lioncrest Academy.

His mind was blank, completely overtaken by a single, all-consuming fear—what if Isabella… was gone?

He could take the hatred, the attacks, the humiliation from Lioncrest Academy.

He could wait for his chance and return it a hundredfold.

But if something happened to Isabella?

Then he would drag the entire Lioncrest Academy to hell with him—even if it meant his own life.

Blood dripped from his lips as he bit down, hard, trying to ground himself in that rising sea of rage.

His fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles cracked audibly, veins bulging as his body trembled.

Some of the vendors along the street began to recognize him.

"Was… was that Alan just now?"

"It really was! What's he doing, running like a madman?!"

Their eyes followed his trail of destruction. At the end of the road stood the towering, iron-clad gates of Lioncrest Academy.

"My gods… is he headed there?!"

"No way… that's suicide!"

"Stop him! Someone stop him! He's still so young—he can't throw his life away like this!"

Despite the warnings, despite the gathering crowd of bystanders and well-meaning merchants, Alan raced forward.

Within moments, he reached the front gates of Lioncrest Academy.

There—chained to a pillar beside the gate—was a small, trembling figure.

Isabella.

Thick, iron chains bound her arms and legs, rattling loudly as she shook in fear.

"Isabella!" Alan shouted her name before he even realized it.

The girl looked up, startled. Her eyes filled with tears.

"Brother… no… don't come any closer—it's a trap!"

Alan froze for half a second.

Then fresh blood leaked from the corner of his lips again as he exhaled slowly, suppressing the wrath boiling inside him.

From within the academy, several Lioncrest students stepped through the gates, smirking as they faced him.

"You finally showed up…"

But before the words could fully leave the speaker's lips—

Shing!

A razor-sharp blade of mana sliced across his neck.

Thump.

His head tumbled to the ground, rolling several times before it finally stopped.

No one even saw the attack.

In less than a second—the boy was dead.

Gasps of horror erupted from the onlookers.

Especially the crowd of nosy pedestrians who had chased Alan here.

"W-What's going on?! He just—he didn't even speak—he just killed that guy?!"

"No hesitation, no questions… just decapitation?!"

"Hey! You—!"

The other Lioncrest students instantly drew their magic, their expressions turning grim.

But Alan didn't give them the chance.

In the blink of an eye, the Holy Sword Staff formed in his hand.

Blades of radiant light magic, cloaked in violent mana, burst forth and pierced straight through the students' defenses.

Before they could cast a single spell, several had already been run through.

Then Alan stomped the ground hard.

A web of earth element surged from beneath his feet, intertwined with traces of metal element, rising up like chains to bind the students' legs.

A move he'd learned during his fierce duel with Duke Mogan.

Slash! Slash! Slash!

Blazing light swords carved through flesh and bone, reducing the trapped students to scorched, dismembered corpses.

But Alan wasn't finished.

He opened his hand, then slammed his palm against the ground.

An eerie, crystalline chime echoed around them, sharp and unnatural—like glass shattering inside the skull.

Some Lioncrest students suddenly turned pale, panic flooding their faces.

They reached toward the sky helplessly, their pupils dilating.

Moments later, blood-red crystal blossoms burst from their chests—piercing through their skin like deadly art.

Amidst the gore, the flowers bloomed—painting the massacre in elegant crimson beauty.

A scream tore through the air.

"Wait—did you see that?! Wind element… Earth… Metal… Light… Fire… and some strange crystal spell—"

"Don't tell me… he's a Magus?"

"Magus?!"

The crowd was stunned into silence.

In the Plantagenet Kingdom, there were countless mages.

But Magus—those who could command all elements and create their own spells—were so rare that most believed them to be legend.

Even across centuries, few had ever existed.

But rare did not mean unworthy.

In fact, among mages, the word Magus carried the weight of myth.

A title spoken only with reverence and longing.

Many dreamed of reaching such heights.

But that dream remained forever unreachable for most.

To command all elements? To shape raw mana freely?

It was a feat few could even attempt.

And now… before their eyes…

A true Magus had appeared.

At that moment, it no longer mattered who supported Sirius or Lioncrest.

The news of a Magus' emergence spread through the capital like wildfire.

Crowds flooded the streets, heading straight for Lioncrest Academy.

Meanwhile, Alan continued his one-man assault, cutting down the Lioncrest reinforcements as they arrived.

None of them lasted more than a second.

"Enough!"

A powerful male voice boomed across the battlefield.

Vice Headmaster Krom appeared, hands behind his back, face grim.

He stepped forward and barked,

"Alan! Are you trying to get yourself killed?! You've trespassed on Lioncrest grounds and murdered our students!"

Before he could finish, Alan raised the Holy Sword Staff, pressing the blade to Krom's neck.

His voice hoarse and trembling with rage—

"Get myself killed? Hmph. You think I care who dies today?"

"I've come to your academy as demanded. Bring out the one responsible. Or I'll kill every last one of you."

Then—Alan vanished from in front of Krom.

A moment later, a Lioncrest student behind the vice headmaster fell limp—his chest punched through cleanly by Alan's fist.

He collapsed without even a gasp.

Right under Krom's nose.

The insult could not have been clearer.

Krom's face twisted in fury.

His fists clenched.

His murderous intent spiked.

But just as the standoff reached the brink of all-out war…

A female voice chuckled mockingly from beyond the academy gates.

"Heh… Lioncrest Academy, truly shameless. You lure someone here with despicable tricks, then cry foul when he fights back?"

"You brand him reckless, violent, unrestrained—when you're the ones playing judge, jury, and executioner."

"How convenient. How typical."