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

“So what do you propose we do then? That thing so much as touches you, you’re dead. If you want to gamble your life, go ahead—but I’m not joining you!”

Fort stood up, clearly fed up, and made as if to leave.

But Francis immediately dropped to his knees and clung to Fort’s leg, his eyes watery and pitiful. “Don’t… don’t go, I’m begging you! You’re my brother—my real brother! If you activate your full sharp metal-element body, maybe you can take a couple of hits. I can’t! I’m so fragile I bet just the aftermath of his Light Sword Art would take me out!”

“Let go—get off me!”

Fort struggled furiously, but Francis clung to him like a piece of stubborn gum on a boot. In the end, Fort could only sigh in resignation.

“Fine… but let me be clear. I’ll take at most two hits. After that, I’m out—no matter what. Sure, my sharp metal-element body is tough, but it’s not invincible. Alan’s attacks aren’t just powerful—they’re terrifying. If I take too many, I’ll die too.”

“That’s enough, that’s enough!”

Francis practically shouted in excitement. “To tell you the truth, I’ve been developing a new skill. If you can give me enough time to finish chanting it, I can lock Alan down until he sobers up!”

“F-Five… no! Ten minutes. Hold him off for ten minutes under his full assault and I swear we’ll both make it through this in one piece!”

“Ten minutes?! You might as well ask me to die!”

“Three minutes then… I can’t go any lower.”

“Three minutes? I won’t even be done with the opening chant!”

“Five minutes. No more!”

“Fine, I’ll try to speed it up. You be careful too.”

Having agreed on a plan, the two of them prepared to engage Alan in a drawn-out battle on the mountain trail.

At this point, Alan looked completely unconscious, eyes shut tight as he swung Lumen Sancta purely on instinct.

His strikes were ferocious but lacked structure. For the moment, that gave Fort some breathing room.

He watched Alan’s every movement like a hawk, terrified that one misstep would leave him horribly injured or worse.

But then, in the very next moment, everything changed.

A metal-element sword began to materialize in Alan’s left hand, glowing faintly with elemental energy.

With this addition, Alan’s tempo surged. His previously clumsy attack rhythm suddenly snapped into focus—and accelerated.

The pressure on Fort doubled in an instant.

Within mere seconds, Fort’s entire body was covered in long, thin slashes.

And this was despite the fact that he was still maintaining his sharp metal-element form.

For most mages, that body was like an indestructible fortress. But against Alan, it was like paper armor—utterly useless.

Once again, Fort felt the massive chasm between his power and Alan’s.

“Hey! Are you done yet?! I can’t hold out much longer!” Fort shouted toward the trees.

Francis, still hidden and chanting, replied urgently, “Almost! Hang in there just a little more!”

In that brief moment of distraction, Alan vanished from Fort’s sight.

A chill crept down Fort’s spine.

He instinctively looked up—and saw two sword tips glowing with faint golden light descending directly toward his head.

Clang! Clang!

Two sharp metallic rings exploded in his ears. Fort’s world spun wildly, his vision blurring into a mess of sparks and stars.

Alan’s attack had bypassed even his bramble-rebound armbands, striking directly at his body and causing real damage.

With a loud thud, Fort collapsed to the ground.

Both strikes had landed on vital points. They weren’t fatal—but enough to knock him unconscious for quite a while.

Seeing his “shield” go down, Francis’s heart leapt into his throat. His chanting sped up even more.

“Ael Nokuth Gravitus, Singularis Voluptura!!”

Strange, ancient syllables poured rapidly from his lips.

At the same time, the trees around him began to twist unnaturally. The dirt and leaves on the ground lifted into the air, spiraling toward him like a vortex.

Gravity, at its core, was an attractive force.

And Francis was now cranking that force up to the absolute maximum.

He turned himself into a humanoid black hole. Any physical attack aimed at him would be drawn toward him—but would never hit the core. They’d pass by, deflected by the pull without touching him.

It should’ve worked. It always worked.

But he underestimated Alan.

When the dual Light Sword Arts—cast through Lumen Sancta and his elemental blade—struck, Francis realized with horror that the sword lights ignored his gravitational pull entirely.

They flew straight at him.

“Damn it—his sword can even cut gravity?! Is he still human?!”

Francis shut his eyes in despair.

He never expected that his end wouldn’t come from a heroic battle with foreign invaders—but by Alan’s hand.

Just as the searing blades closed in, Francis felt someone push him from the side.

A shadowy figure had appeared from nowhere, knocking him out of the path.

The twin sword strikes grazed his cheek, leaving two long, bloody marks across his face.

Across the clearing, Alan’s body suddenly twitched violently—then he collapsed, completely unconscious.

Francis lay on the ground, panting. Only after several long seconds of absolute silence did he confirm Alan wasn’t moving.

Only then did he let out a huge sigh of relief, clutching his wildly beating heart.

His legs gave out and he dropped to the ground, trembling.

He’d nearly pissed himself.

That was how terrifying Alan’s attacks were.

“Mmm… ngh…”

Suddenly, Alan stirred.

Holding his head, he groggily sat up.

Francis’s relief evaporated instantly, panic rushing back in.

But Alan gave a weak smile and raised his hand. “It’s alright. I’m fully sober now.”

Hearing this, Francis nearly cried with joy.

“You bastard! Were you trying to scare me to death?!”

He turned to Fort, still lying next to him, and gave him a rough shake.

Fort groaned awake, rubbing his head. The three of them now sat together, surrounded by ruined earth and scorched trees, an awkward silence settling between them.

“Uh… haha… Nice weather tonight, huh?” Alan pointed lamely at the full moon above, trying to lighten the mood.

Francis and Fort exchanged a glance, then said in perfect unison:

“What the hell was that?! Who goes on a drunken rampage like that?!”

Alan gave a sheepish smile and began to explain.

“I was trying out a new form of soul-state training,” he said. “The alcohol helped push my soul into a half-conscious state. But then I couldn’t control my body, and it started moving on its own—acting purely on instinct. That’s why… well… I ended up unleashing Light Sword Arts on anyone I sensed nearby.”

Francis gawked at him. “So you’re telling me… you lost control of your body, and it just decided to murder your friends?! You used all your most deadly tricks on your own brothers?!”

“Uh… pretty much, yeah.”

Alan’s explanation didn’t calm them at all. In fact, it made them even more alarmed.

Francis snatched the flask hanging from Alan’s belt and hurled it far away.

“No more drinking for you! Ever! I don’t wanna die just because you’re feeling emotional!”

Alan shook his head and gave a weary sigh. “You don’t have to tell me. I wasn’t planning to. Tonight was… a special exception.”

“Special?” Francis raised an eyebrow. “What kind of special?”

“Today marks exactly one month… since old Gayle passed away.”

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