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

Francis, who had been bent over, vomiting uncontrollably, quickly stood up as soon as he heard Blanche’s words. Clutching his stomach, he stumbled backward several steps, his face filled with horror as he stared at Alan.

“I knew it!” he stammered. “No wonder you always hovered around me back at the academy. So that’s what you were really after… Alan, I never saw you for what you really were! Let me be clear—stay away from me! You might not be into women, but I definitely am!”

Alan was utterly speechless. Never in his wildest imagination had he expected that a casual lie told to appease an upperclassman would come back to stab him in the back like this. It was as if the joke had transformed into a boomerang and smacked him square in the face.

Just then, Fort stepped forward with a face full of resolution. Straightening his back, he confidently displayed his impressively built chest muscles and said solemnly, “If you don’t mind… I could—”

“Could what? Get the hell out of here!” Alan snapped, shoving Fort away forcefully, and then wiping his hands as though ridding himself of something dirty.

He was genuinely stunned—not just by Fort’s unexpected boldness, but by how far he was willing to go. All because he wanted to repay a favor? Was Fort truly ready to go that far?

This wild child who had grown up in the forest clearly didn’t understand the twisted hearts of people in society.

Alan turned his back on the two men and began pacing in place, racking his brain for a way to explain himself. But no matter how long he thought, he couldn’t find a satisfying solution.

If he opened his mouth now and said that his supposed “preference for men” was just a fib meant to trick the upperclassman, it would be no different from admitting that he had, in fact, peeked at Blanche while she was bathing that day.

But if he didn’t explain it at all, then fine—let Francis and Fort believe what they wanted. His real concern was Rosalia.

He feared that her misunderstanding of him would deepen even further.

After all, Alan had always been acutely aware of the third Princess’s feelings toward him. He had never been blind to them.

He wasn’t made of stone. Many times, he simply didn’t know how to respond to her affection and would dodge the issue with a laugh or a shrug.

But now, thanks to Blanche’s accusation, the topic had been thrown back on the table in front of everyone.

To say he wasn’t conflicted would be a blatant lie.

“Pfft.”

Just then, Rosalia stifled a giggle with her hand.

How could she not see the tangled mess in Alan’s heart right now?

In truth, she had already figured out whether Alan liked men or women long ago.

Even though she often dressed and acted like a man due to her position and upbringing, Rosalia was, at her core, still a woman.

And everyone knows—when a man and a woman spend enough time together, things can… happen.

As that thought drifted into her mind, Rosalia’s face suddenly flushed bright red, the color creeping all the way to her ears. She quickly turned her head away, trying to suppress the flurry of emotions swirling in her heart.

“Alan!”

Just when everyone seemed to be drifting off into their own thoughts, Claude stepped forward and called out to him.

“Do you still remember the pact we made?”

Claude’s gaze burned with intensity, his eyes locking onto Alan with a flare of pure [Battle Spirit].

Alan straightened, his expression turning serious. “Of course I remember. Only by defeating the assailants would I earn the right to challenge you—correct?”

Claude nodded with a smile. “Seems your memory isn’t too bad. But let me say this first—I’m not the kind of person who takes advantage of others when they’re down. Even though I’m just a wandering knight, I still uphold the vows I made when I was first knighted.”

“After all the battles we’ve been through, your mana must be nearly depleted, right? If I fought you now, it’d just be bullying someone who’s already exhausted. That wouldn’t be a worthy victory.”

Alan didn’t like that implication one bit. He shot back, “If you really think my mana’s gone, why don’t you come test it yourself?”

Seeing that Alan wasn’t backing down and seemed ready to throw down right then and there, Claude hastily waved his hands.

“No, no—no need for that! I may want to fight you, but this just isn’t the right time. Haven’t you noticed? This ruin is starting to collapse!”

At that, Alan quickly looked up. Sure enough, the space around them was showing signs of inward collapse. The fabric of the pocket dimension was beginning to implode.

Apparently, his earlier battle with Bruce had destabilized the foundation of the ruin, forcing it to shut down prematurely in order to preserve what little structural integrity it had left.

“So… does that mean our pact is off?” Alan turned back toward Claude and asked.

Claude scratched his head, then grinned. “Call it off? No way. Honestly, after watching you fight just now, my hands are practically itching. Every fiber of my being is screaming for a duel, and my instincts are practically begging for a real match.”

“But… like I said, now isn’t the time. Wait until we’re back at Sirius Academy. Rest up, recover your mana—get yourself back to peak condition. And then… you won’t have to come find me. I’ll be there, ready to honor our pact.”

With that, Claude offered Alan a formal knight’s salute, then sheathed his two swords and strode off.

Francis came up beside Alan and muttered, “This wandering knight guy… he’s got principles. Didn’t even try to sneak attack you when you’re all worn out. Guess real knights aren’t just all talk.”

“You’re wrong.”

Alan shook his head, wagging his finger as he corrected Francis’s misconception.

“Claude didn’t become honorable because he was knighted. It’s because he’s naturally upright and just that the kingdom chose to bestow the title of knight upon him. Don’t mix up the cause and effect.”

As he spoke, Alan suddenly caught a glimpse of the androgynous young man Holmes—the one who had claimed to be an investor—standing nearby with a mischievous smile on his face.

Alan quickly called out, “Mr. Holmes! About earlier—thank you for your help. That was a huge favor.”

Holmes strolled up, still smiling, and handed Isabella gently back to Alan.

“Oh, it was nothing,” Holmes said. “A small gesture, really. You handled the crisis with your own strength. Just keep an eye on your sister from now on, alright? Don’t let her get lured away again.”

Alan tightened his grip around Isabella’s wrist, his eyes full of determination. “I won’t. There won’t be a next time.”

Holmes nodded approvingly, then, taking on the tone of a seasoned elder, chatted warmly with the siblings for a few moments.

But then, his smile faded abruptly. His tone turned grave as he looked Alan in the eyes.

“Alan, you’ve made it through today’s storm—but I’ll be honest with you. This is just the beginning. That old snake Stephen is playing a long game, and what you’ve just experienced is only one part of his chain of schemes.”

“You’ve already been swept into the vortex of power struggles between factions. Even if you wanted to back out now… I’m afraid it’s already too late.”

Alan had more or less sensed this outcome, but now that Holmes was spelling it out clearly, he knew he had no choice but to face it head-on.

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