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

The side gate of Lioncrest Academy was nothing like the grand main entrance.

Jagged artificial hills and dense rock formations framed the path, narrowing the terrain to a passage only wide enough for two people to walk abreast.

Since Alan and his allies were retreating while fighting, and Lioncrest students were careful not to injure their own in the chaos, the pressure on them was instantly relieved—they only needed to deal with the few students in front.

That's when Alan barked,

"Open the side gate. You go first. I'll cover the rear!"

Not a single one of them questioned his command.

After fending off yet another wave of attackers, Francis, Fort, and Blanche pushed open the side gate and quickly slipped through.

Alan, now alone, pressed his palm to his chest—then clenched.

A torrent of vital energy surged outward from within him.

Where it landed, it bloomed into crystalline flowers—each with an intricate design, their colors glowing brilliantly like gemstones under the sun.

But this was only the beginning.

Alan summoned his Holy Sword Staff, but this time, not to fight directly—rather, as a conduit.

"Light Sword Art!"

With a mighty roar, countless blades wreathed in sacred flame erupted from the ground—spear-like swords driving forward with unstoppable momentum toward the pursuing Lioncrest students.

They tried to dodge, but it was already too late.

The moment the sacred swords made contact with the vital energy on the ground, they expanded, swelling into towering pillars of flame.

In the blink of an eye, several Lioncrest students were engulfed by the raging infernos—consumed so thoroughly that not even their bones remained.

And it didn't stop there.

Those who hadn't been directly struck by the fire pillars were still writhing in agony nearby.

The waves of searing heat had scorched their skin, rendering them immobile. Though technically alive, they were functionally no different from corpses.

Watching this devastation unfold, Krom, who had been observing from a distance, suddenly felt his throat tighten.

This kind of annihilating power couldn't possibly come from a mere tier-bronze Magus!

As the flames slowly dissipated, the remaining Lioncrest students found themselves paralyzed by fear.

They had once howled for vengeance, vowing to tear Alan to pieces.

But now, they were staring down a figure that seemed to embody death itself.

Alan no longer looked like a student. He was an executioner.

"Hey! Did you guys see that?!"

From just beyond the side gate, Francis was still watching, waving frantically at the others.

"That pillar of fire—boom!—and then they were just gone!"

"Alan's a monster! Think he's got another one of those in him?"

Alan, hearing the teasing tone, allowed himself a crooked smile.

He unleashed another wave of vital energy, spilling it onto the terrain like divine ink.

Then, he planted the tip of his Holy Sword Staff into the ground.

The earth beneath his feet began to rumble—magma-like energy churned below the surface.

Those who had dared to remain no longer dared to face him.

The Lioncrest students turned and fled in all directions.

That's when Headmaster Stephen finally returned.

Seeing their leader appear, the wounded and demoralized students felt a flicker of hope.

Stephen's expression was stormy.

He glanced at the charred corpses littering the gate… then at the blood-soaked lion crest carved into the stone beneath them.

His rage boiled beneath the surface.

Ignoring all objections, he walked straight toward Alan and said coldly,

"Why?"

Alan didn't respond.

Instead, he drove the Holy Sword Staff into the ground once more.

BOOM!

Another Pillar of Sacred Flame erupted into the sky, consuming more of the fleeing students in its blazing wrath.

Stephen had seen enough.

In a flash, he lunged forward and seized Alan by the throat, lifting him off the ground.

But before he could squeeze—

A hand reached out and slapped Stephen's away, effortlessly freeing Alan.

Stephen turned sharply.

Old Gayle.

He narrowed his eyes.

"You Sirius Academy fools… have you all gone mad?"

Gayle didn't answer. He simply pulled out his familiar silver flask, took a calm sip—

—and then let it drop.

Clang.

The sound echoed unnaturally.

To Stephen, it rang like a thunderclap.

He looked down—

His own body was splintering like glass, thousands of fractures spidering across his skin.

A surreal vision gripped him.

In that moment, he whispered:

"Reality rewriting… cognitive distortion… You… you've reached Legendary."

Gayle met his gaze with a tinge of scorn.

"So what if I've rewritten reality? The people we lost won't return."

"There are only four Legendary mages left in the Plantagenet Kingdom. You're one. I'm another."

"If you really want to turn this into a war, then come. I've got nothing left to lose."

"And before this life of mine burns out, I'll make sure to drag Lioncrest Academy into hell with me."

Stephen held his gaze in silence for a long while.

Gayle was unhinged.

A lunatic.

But he wasn't willing to become one too.

Lioncrest Academy might have strength in numbers, yes. If they fought, they would likely win in the end.

But the cost…

To defeat Gayle would require Stephen, plus three more headmasters—and even then, victory wasn't guaranteed.

The academy would be razed to the ground. The students decimated. Their legacy in ruins.

Meanwhile, Sirius Academy had nothing left to lose.

If they fought… was it really worth it?

Stephen asked himself that over and over.

And every time, the answer was no.

But then… his gaze swept across the scorched remains of his students.

Rage flared in his eyes.

"Fine," he said slowly.

"I can overlook your little intrusion."

"But—"

He suddenly pointed at Alan.

"This one. This murderer. Must answer for the lives he took. If you insist on protecting him—then prepare to face the consequences. Even if I have to bury Lioncrest Academy in the process, I won't hesitate."

The moment those words fell, spatial magic ripples spread out from Stephen's body.

Moments later, multiple white-robed mages appeared around Gayle, Alan, Francis, and the others.

They made no effort to hide their strength.

Each one exuded mana pressure that could only belong to tier-diamond powerhouses.