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

“Exactly!”

Tyrande lowered his voice and continued coldly, “I’ve also heard… that it was on this very same magic train that Alan once personally killed a hidden acolyte from the Church. You know how sacred acolytes are to the Church—they’re practically the gods’ chosen emissaries.”

“But instead of hunting him down, the Church of Steam and Magic actually treated him with courtesy and respect. Doesn’t that strike you as strange?”

“And what’s more…”

Tyrande pointed a finger at Beatrice.

“He crossed paths with you in that small world before, didn’t he? You two even clashed. At that time, he was nowhere near your level of strength. And how long ago was that? Not long enough for a normal mage to even break through a single tier.”

“Yet now… in such a short period, he’s reached a point where he can match you head-on. Do you realize how terrifying that is?”

Beatrice fell silent. She couldn’t find a single explanation for how Alan’s strength had grown so fast.

Tyrande stepped closer and patted her shoulder, letting out a heavy sigh. “Beatrice, you and Eisen are the top prospects of this year’s intake at Lioncrest Academy. The Headmaster, along with the rest of us mentors, all have high hopes for you both.”

“This isn’t just about personal glory. This concerns the honor of Lioncrest Academy itself.”

“We can’t gamble on whether Alan really is a magus or not. We can only assume the worst. And if he truly is one, then Alan is an existential threat—one that Lioncrest Academy must eliminate.”

“Right now, Alan’s in Ironblood City, all on his own. The Rose Duke is off in the Sacred Realm. No one’s here to protect him. This is the best chance we’ll ever get.”

“Tell me, Beatrice—if I don’t act now, using this method, when else would I get another opportunity like this?”

Beatrice looked conflicted, hesitating for quite a while before finally speaking up. “But… what if someone finds out?”

Tyrande’s expression darkened instantly. He clenched his fist and slammed it against a nearby tree trunk with a resounding crack, then hissed, “No one will find out. And even if someone does… so what? What can those wretches possibly do to us?”

“They’re nothing but parasites—peasants who grow grain and brew ale. Every single one of us at Lioncrest is an elite among elites. If this goes to trial, who do you think the Justiciar would believe? Them, or us?”

“Lioncrest Academy’s very existence is the embodiment of law and order. No one dares defy us.”

“Besides…” A mocking smile curled Tyrande’s lips. “The memory of peasants is short. Give it some time and the whole incident will be forgotten. At most, it’ll be reduced to a few idle rumors told over dinner. Who would believe Lioncrest Academy actually blew up a Church-operated magic train?”

With that, Tyrande retracted the second wave of vines he’d sent out—but still, there was no sign of Alan.

A strange look crept onto his face. “Weird. Why can’t we find him? Where the hell did he run off to?”

Beatrice slowly lifted her head and scanned the surroundings. After a pause, she offered, “In that situation, whether he jumped off or stayed in the train, he should’ve been dead either way.”

“If we didn’t find his body inside the carriages, then chances are, he jumped. And with that massive cliff ahead… he probably fell.”

“Given the sheer force of inertia from jumping off a speeding train, it’s entirely possible. He’s just a tier-bronze—he definitely hasn’t mastered mana shaping, that kind of advanced manipulation.”

Tyrande mulled over her words and gave a slow nod. “Fair point. In that case, no use sticking around. Let’s move.”

The two exchanged a glance, preparing to leave.

Then Beatrice suddenly asked, “Mentor, is Eisen coming back soon?”

Tyrande blinked, then chuckled, “Not coming back—already back. And you know exactly what kind of person he is. He’s probably already on his way to Sirius Academy, ready to deal with all those feeble fools.”

“Alan’s lucky he’s dead. If he were alive and crossed paths with Eisen… who knows what kind of beating he’d get, hahaha.”

The two laughed and chatted casually for a while before Tyrande activated a teleportation spell, vanishing from the scene with Beatrice in tow.

Meanwhile, deep underground, Alan was trembling with rage.

“Lioncrest Academy… you bastards are beyond shameless.”

He understood now. Lioncrest wasn’t attacking him for revenge. They were simply afraid—afraid of his potential. That’s why they wanted to kill him before he could grow any stronger.

But he, Alan, was no fragile sapling to be easily uprooted.

After waiting a little longer and confirming that Tyrande and Beatrice’s mana traces had completely faded, Alan cautiously crawled out of the pit.

He clenched his fists tightly, eyes filled with cold fury.

One day, he vowed, the people of Lioncrest Academy would pay—with blood.

Had he not grasped the concept of mana shaping in that life-or-death moment, he really might’ve been done for.

People liked to talk about Lioncrest Academy as a prestigious institution in the capital.

But in Alan’s eyes, they were worse than the scum from House Roan.

The noble side of human nature might vary from person to person.

But the dark, vile side? It was always the same—deceitful, cowardly, cruel.

Alan took a deep breath and forced the hatred down his throat.

After taking a moment to recover, he turned and began walking toward Ironblood City.

He had no intention of walking all the way back to the capital on foot. That would take far too long—and it wasn’t necessary.

Moments later, in the forests surrounding Ironblood City, the wind began to howl.

Alan shot through the trees like Tarzan, moving with astonishing grace and speed.

But look closely and you’d notice—there were no vines or tools helping him.

All he used were faint flows of mana.

In past battles, he had tried to shape mana into physical forms to restrain enemies, but never got the hang of it.

Now? He could effortlessly condense mana into circles, squares, even triangles—with barely a sound.

These basic geometric shapes might seem simplistic, but when used right in battle, they were deadly.

Take, for example, the mana triangle spike he once placed beneath Duke Mogan. It had taken the old noble completely off guard.

This method not only conserved mana, but also created devastating surprise attacks.

Picture this: two mages in the heat of battle, flinging fireballs and ice shards at each other—when suddenly, one of them molds his mana into a longsword and lunges forward.

Even the most seasoned warrior would flinch.

And that brief moment of hesitation?

Could be fatal.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!