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

“I think I finally understand,” Bruce said, voice calm yet laced with contempt, “why that old bastard Stephen treats you like a thorn in his side. Why he’s so desperate to wipe you out—no matter the cost.”

“Cut the damn chatter,” Alan growled, eyes blazing. “If you want to fight, then bring it. If not, get the hell out of my way!”

He immediately activated his vital energy, hastening to repair the damage within his body. But he could clearly feel it—the Stone of Sage, which stored his reserves, had already been drained by more than half over the course of today’s relentless battles.

At this rate, he’d burn through all of it long before this fight ended.

Alan clenched his jaw. From now on, he couldn’t afford to waste vital energy like this. It would have to be reserved strictly for moments of absolute life and death—those rare opportunities when a turnaround meant survival.

As he was thinking, Alan caught a flicker of movement from the corner of his eye.

Bruce—who had been standing still just a heartbeat before—vanished.

In the same instant, a gust of wind kicked up the fallen leaves across the ground, forming a violent spiral of airborne debris rushing straight toward him like a darting snake.

Alan didn’t hesitate. He charged forward with Lumen Sancta in hand and unleashed a powerful upward slash.

A surge of light element burst from the blade, transforming into a pure, concentrated form of light sword technique—raw, fierce, and unrelenting. The blade’s glow cleaved toward the swirling leaf storm.

But Bruce suddenly reappeared directly in front of Alan.

He didn’t dodge. Didn’t even flinch.

Instead, he calmly raised a single hand and pressed down on the sword’s edge, smothering the light element before it had a chance to fully materialize.

The light spell ruptured mid-cast.

The backlash was instant.

Alan’s mana surged chaotically inside him, nearly spiraling out of control. He staggered back a few steps, heart pounding wildly. A wave of dizziness crashed over him.

Bruce didn’t wait.

In the blink of an eye, he struck again, his palm crashing into Alan’s back.

The force was monstrous.

Alan felt his organs twist and churn like they’d been violently rearranged. The world spun around him—he felt as if he’d been strapped to a spinning pendulum and hurled through the air.

When the blow ended, Bruce took a step back, folding his arms behind his back as if nothing had happened.

Alan stood dazed, his vision swimming. His mind couldn’t catch up. All he could perceive was Bruce slowly floating upward, ascending higher into the sky.

Even though his eyes were foggy, one thing was certain—Bruce was rising.

Rosalia, who was still locked in combat with the dark mage nearby, caught a glimpse of what was happening out of the corner of her eye.

She turned pale.

There was no time to help.

So she shouted with all her strength:

“Alan! Don’t just stand there! Run! He’s using a Legendary-class spell—you can’t survive that head-on!”

“Legendary-class…?” Alan blinked, disoriented.

Then, all at once, he snapped out of his daze.

Slowly, he looked up—and his breath caught in his throat.

Above him, the world had begun to distort.

The very air twisted unnaturally, as though a giant, invisible hand were wringing the sky itself like a wet towel.

And behind Bruce’s floating form…

A crimson crescent moon was rising.

Under that bloody arc, a mirror-like black lake had appeared, impossibly still. Bruce stood at its center, unmoving, yet exuding such oppressive mana that the very space around him trembled under the weight.

At the same time, the ground beneath Alan’s feet cracked in a spiderweb pattern.

But these weren’t the chaotic fractures of a natural earthquake—they were geometric, precise, forming a mana matrix as though space itself were being reconstructed.

Alan had never felt fear like this.

Not even back at Lioncrest Academy, when he’d witnessed a clash between two Legendary Mages—Gayle and Stephen. Back then, even as mountains shattered and clouds were torn asunder, he hadn’t been afraid.

But there was one key difference.

He hadn’t been the target.

Now, Bruce’s killing intent was fully directed at him.

Alan didn’t have time to wonder why Bruce—just a tier-diamond mage—could wield Legendary-tier magic.

All that mattered was surviving.

Since Bruce had revealed his trump card, Alan no longer had any reason to hide his own.

His breathing calmed.

His expression grew cold, tranquil—even serene.

He raised both arms.

The moment he did, Lumen Sancta, still gripped tightly in his hand, burst into a radiant golden blaze.

That golden light surged upward into the sky, growing broader and broader until it became a massive pillar of light, reaching far beyond the clouds.

Claude, watching from a distance, suddenly felt a chill.

His eyes sharpened.

He stared at Alan and muttered—half to Holmes, half to himself:

“No way… Is he really going to try and face a Legendary spell head-on instead of fleeing? Is he even human?!”

Holmes chuckled. “Whether or not he’s human… isn’t really up to us to decide.”

He added, “But if he didn’t have that kind of courage, then how could Duke Rose ever have taken a liking to him?”

Claude’s jaw dropped. “Wait—Rose Duke? You mean the one from the Plantagenet Kingdom?”

Holmes rolled his eyes. “Of course. Who else? There’s only one Rose Duke in the world.”

Claude finally understood. “No wonder that kid had the guts to claim he could take on all the attackers by himself. So he has a connection with her. That explains everything.”

He sighed, then scratched his head. “I’ve been out of touch lately. Haven’t heard much about her. What’s her rank on the New Star Rankings now? How high is her bounty?”

Holmes thought for a moment. “No idea what her rank is now. But last I heard, when she left the British Empire, she defeated the No. 3 ranked mage in under three minutes.”

“As for the bounty?” Holmes shrugged. “The bounty hunter guilds don’t even post her name anymore. They know that even if every hunter in the world teamed up… it still wouldn’t be enough.”

Claude nearly choked. He thumped his chest, coughing hard to steady his breath.

Nearby, Isabella—hiding behind Holmes, watching—held her breath. Her little hands were tightly clenched as she stared at her brother.

Her gaze darted between Alan and Bruce.

When she looked at Alan, her eyes were filled with worry, hope, pride, and a faint glimmer of adoration.

But when her gaze landed on Bruce…

Her entire expression darkened.

Her features twisted with rage, her aura turned icy, and within her innocent face shimmered a trace of—brutality.

“Here it comes!” Holmes suddenly shouted, pulling everyone’s attention back to the sky.

Bruce, still suspended midair, lifted a single finger.

He pointed downward—toward Alan.

“Accept the judgment… of blood.”

The words were like a death sentence.

A thin, crimson arrow of concentrated blood mana shot from Bruce’s fingertip, screaming through the air like a beam of red lightning.

In a heartbeat, it was mere meters from Alan.

The projectile didn’t look particularly threatening—but the mana swirling within it was terrifying.

It was as if all the blood in the world had been condensed, pressurized, and funneled into a single bolt. A divine retribution cast in liquid fire.

This was no ordinary attack.

This was an execution.

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