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

As soon as Alan spoke, all three of them fell into silence.

After a moment, it was Francis who broke the stillness with a hoarse voice, asking, "What exactly do you mean by that?"

Alan gazed up at the bright moon above, letting out a quiet sigh.

"The path to rebuilding the Academy will be a hard one," he said softly. "And with all the enemies I've made, forces from every direction are watching our every move. I'm scared. Scared that you'll end up like Headmaster Gayle…"

"Hold it right there!"

Francis suddenly stood up, cutting him off. His expression turned uncharacteristically stern.

"Listen to me, Alan. I don't care what's going on in your head right now, but if you're trying to suggest that I abandon Sirius and walk away from the Academy, then forget it. That's not happening."

"I'm not the only one who considers this place home. Let me make this clear—my name is Francis. I was born a man of Sirius Academy, and if I die, I'll be its ghost!"

Fort nodded firmly beside him, clearly of the same mind. After everything they had gone through together, there was no way he could walk away from this land he had already accepted as his true home.

"You guys… sigh…"

Alan let out another sigh, heavier this time.

It was true that they had managed to survive the last crisis—thanks to the sudden arrival of the flame-haired woman, who drove off the NK Kingdom forces and those black mages in one fell swoop. They'd even taken the chance to strike back and uproot Lioncrest Academy completely.

But Alan knew this wasn't the end of it.

The danger wasn't over—far from it. The NK Kingdom had lost a significant number of Legendary mages. That meant the next assault would only be fiercer.

And those black mages? They were a nightmare in their own right. Each one wielded forbidden magic. Sure, they were no match for the flame-haired woman, but to Alan and the rest, they were the most troublesome foes imaginable.

They had no physical forms, could suppress their mana signatures, and strike from the shadows. It wasn't inconceivable that one of them could appear out of nowhere and assassinate a sleeping mage without warning.

It was just too dangerous.

Alan couldn't bear the thought of losing another friend—another family member—right in front of him. That's why he had said what he said.

But Francis was having none of it.

"What do you mean, 'you guys'?" he said sharply. "Say it right—it's 'we.' Just the fact that you said that shows that somewhere in the back of your mind, you still think of us as outsiders. But are we? Obviously not!"

"Forget all the good times we shared at the Academy for a second. Just think about all those fights against bounty hunters and enemy raiders. How many times did we save your life? And how many times did you save ours?"

"We've long since become brothers and sisters bound by blood and battle. Saying something like that just hurts the bond between us."

Fort might not be as eloquent as Francis, but the determined fire in his eyes made his feelings just as clear.

"These past weeks, Francis and I have been training hard," Fort added. "Sure, we're still nowhere near your level. But at the very least, when the next fight comes, we won't be a burden anymore!"

"Pfft—speak for yourself!" Francis scoffed. "I'm the one who's been training seriously. You? You climb some mountains and hop through fire pits and call that training? Please. Compared to what I've been doing, you're just playing house!"

WHAM!

Fort's fist crashed into Francis's face before he even finished the sentence.

Alan couldn't help but notice something strange. The metallic sheen on Fort's body had changed. It was no longer the usual silvery hue—it was shifting toward a darker, golden color.

Alan didn't fully understand how the sharp metal-element body worked, but judging by appearances alone, Fort had clearly become much stronger through his grueling training.

"You little punk! You actually hit me? You've got a death wish!"

Francis roared and immediately flipped the gravitational field, suspending Fort upside down in mid-air.

But Fort wasn't going down without a fight. With a cunning grin, he began hitting himself, triggering the bramble wristbands he wore—turning their passive rebound ability into an active offensive move.

In no time, the two were brawling again, exchanging blows like children in a sandbox.

Watching the two of them roughhousing so freely, Alan's hands began to itch. He downed the last drop from his silver flask, summoned Lumen Sancta, and charged into the fray.

"Oh come on! Again?!"

"Do you realize how scary you look charging at us with that sword and that murderous gleam in your eye?!"

"Alan—ALAN?!"

"By the gods, he's drunk again!"

Realizing the situation, Francis quickly canceled his gravity flip and shoved Fort away.

Fort, who had his back to Alan, still didn't know what was going on. He looked at Francis in confusion.

Francis pointed behind him, looking half-laughing and half-exasperated. "If you don't run now, he's gonna slice you into scrap metal!"

Fort spun around—and immediately broke into a cold sweat.

The glowing tip of Lumen Sancta was already mere centimeters from his forehead. One wrong move and it would pierce right through.

But before anything else could happen, Alan suddenly collapsed with a soft thud, lying on the ground fast asleep, eyes shut and breathing deeply.

The other two finally exhaled in relief. Exchanging a glance, they picked Alan up and carried him back to his quarters for some well-needed rest.

Time passed quickly, and soon, the morning sun rose.

Sirius Academy, now completely transformed, welcomed its first visitor.

Daniel sat as a guest, glancing around the room with curiosity and no small amount of admiration.

The new building, designed by royal architects, was nothing short of extraordinary.

Everything radiated grandeur and luxury.

Even though Alan had repeatedly requested that the renovations be kept modest, the designers hadn't held back. They were used to designing palaces and royal gardens—flamboyance was second nature to them.

All the materials used were of the highest quality, and the overall aesthetic was extravagant and refined.

White marble pillars stood tall in the halls, and carvings of rare and mythical beasts adorned the walls. One particularly massive mural depicted a wolf-shaped creature locked in battle with fearsome spellbeasts—symbolizing Sirius's unyielding resistance against tyranny and brute strength.

Alan stumbled into the room, clutching his pounding head.

He almost never drank, and last night's binge had left him with the worst hangover of his life.

The headache alone had nearly made him miss this important meeting.

"Apologies, Mr. Daniel. I'm late," he said as soon as he entered.

Daniel waved off the apology with a smile. "It's fine, really. You're the Headmaster now. You've got a mountain of responsibilities—I understand completely. Besides, if it weren't for the urgency of the matter, I wouldn't have shown up this early either. Who doesn't want to stay under the covers a little longer, right?"

Daniel's casual tone didn't help Alan's guilt.

He quickly took his seat and got straight to the point.

"Let's skip the pleasantries, Mr. Daniel. What brings you here today?"