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

Francis threw an arm around Fort’s neck with a mischievous grin. “Heh, this is Hell, and I am the three-headed dog of the underworld, come to claim your soul in the form of someone you know best!”

Fort immediately shoved him away with a look of pure disdain. “Get lost, will you? You? The three-headed hound of Hell? You’re more like a hellbound husky at best! And who gave you the right to assume that you, of all people, are the one I know best?”

Francis froze in place for a moment, visibly hurt. He turned to Fort with pitiful eyes. “I thought of you as my brother… but you don’t even see me as human. That… really breaks my heart.”

Alan couldn’t help but laugh despite himself. These two goofballs were already back to their usual antics. He shook his head and decided to ignore them, turning instead toward Blanche. He quickly moved to her side and helped her to her feet.

“Senior, are you alright?”

Blanche nodded gently. “I’m fine. Just overused my mana and got a few scrapes and bruises. Nothing serious—don’t worry.”

“That’s a relief…”

Her gaze softened as she looked at him. “You don’t know, but when Stephen hurt you all just now… I felt like my heart was being torn apart. I wished with everything I had that he would focus his cruelty on me alone and spare the rest of you.”

She sighed softly and raised a hand to stroke Alan’s forehead with surprising tenderness.

“Silly boy… even if you hadn’t been there, Lioncrest Academy and Sirius Academy were destined to be enemies. I should be the one thanking you. You shielded me from that old bastard for so long. If you hadn’t, he might’ve used even crueler methods to deal with me… and my grandfather.”

Her expression dimmed as she mentioned her grandfather. The atmosphere grew heavy again.

Alan didn’t know how to respond and simply stood there beside her in silence. The air between them turned awkward.

“Ahem… By the way, isn’t that lady over there waiting to talk to you? She’s been staring in your direction this whole time.”

Blanche cleared her throat and lightly tapped Alan’s shoulder, motioning for him to turn around.

Without another word, Alan drooped his shoulders and trudged back toward the red-haired woman, visibly lacking energy.

“You took quite the beating this time, huh? How did it feel?”

The woman clapped a firm hand on his shoulder, making Alan wince in pain.

“What do you think it felt like? Awful. Completely unfair!” he grumbled, clearly annoyed.

The red-haired woman raised a brow. Ever since she’d awakened, Alan had sensed that she was holding in some kind of frustration. Could this be what people called “morning temper”?

“Well, then that’s exactly how it should feel. As long as you remain weak like this, you’ll keep experiencing that awful, unfair pain over and over. Stephen may be dead, but more people like him will come. Stronger, crueler, more arrogant. And they’ll keep stepping on you unless you do something about it!”

With that, she lifted her crimson sword and spun it once in front of him, the blade tracing a glowing arc in the air.

“But—if you were strong, like me, none of this would happen. The moment someone pisses you off, bam—you slice them down. You punish them with mana. You crush them. Then it’s you stepping on others, and no one else stepping on you.”

At her words, the blade of her sword suddenly erupted with radiant light.

Two clusters of dark mist on the ground that had been slowly writhing dissolved instantly into ash under the beam, leaving no trace behind.

“Just like that!” she said coldly. “If you don’t have strength, others will bully you, humiliate you, even try to kill you. But if you have strength—true, terrifying strength—they won’t dare touch you. They’ll beg to serve you. Flatter you. Bow to you.”

“Remember this: in this world, the law of the jungle rules all. The strong dominate, and the weak are prey. That is the one and only eternal law that never fails.”

Alan scratched his head in frustration.

“I know what you’re saying is true… but still… I’m only in my early twenties. Even if I work hard, how strong can I really get? All those old geezers have been studying magic for decades. What chance do I have? Getting stronger… takes time, doesn’t it?”

The red-haired woman sneered. “Time? You think you need time? Guess what I was doing when I was your age?”

Alan blinked. “Uh… studying spells and magic techniques?”

“Wrong. I was killing. Killing people who annoyed me. Killing people who might annoy me. Whether they were tier-diamond, Legendary, or stronger—I slaughtered them all.”

Alan was dumbfounded. Of course, she could say that. She was a legend. A monster. Comparing himself to her was like comparing a spark to the sun.

She noticed his silence and sighed.

“Sigh… Forget it. You wouldn’t understand anyway. I’m a strong one, and you’re still weak. We see the world differently. You can’t possibly understand my perspective.”

“Yes, yes, you’re the strongest under the heavens. I’m just a pathetic weakling who should shut up and stop talking…”

“Watch your mouth!”

The red-haired woman’s tone changed instantly, sounding almost maternal now.

“I won’t let you insult yourself like that. If you’re trash, then what does that make me, someone who saw your potential and backed you from the start? A blind idiot?”

“I didn’t say that…” Alan grinned, clearly trying to be cheeky.

She was so angry she couldn’t even speak. Without warning, she grabbed his wrist and pulled the Lumen Sancta staff right out of his chest with a stern expression.

“Alright. Enough whining. Time to learn.”

“Learn? Learn what?”

“The skill I just used.”

She raised her crimson sword again, her tone turning serious.

“This technique is called Judgement of Soul. As the name suggests, it targets the spiritual realm. For enemies that possess a soul but no physical body, it allows you to judge them. When the blade falls, their soul is utterly annihilated.”

“And for those who have both a body and soul, Judgement of Soul first isolates and captures the soul, tearing it free from the body—then you repeat the same process and destroy it.”

“It might not be as flashy or overwhelming as your Light Sword techniques, but let me tell you something: most mages in this world spend their entire lives studying mana and external forces, yet they have zero understanding of the mind, spirit, or soul.”

“That’s why that drunken geezer’s mana overpressure technique works so well in real combat. It targets an area almost no one else does.”

Alan’s eyes widened slightly in shock. “Wait… You knew about that?”

“Of course I did! I was sleeping, not dead!”

“…So, um… how do I use Judgement of Soul, exactly?”

Alan put on his best respectful student face. He knew his senior’s temper—she responded to humility, not defiance. If he acted stubborn or prideful, she might refuse to teach him at all.

The red-haired woman narrowed her eyes and raised an eyebrow.

“You’re asking me?”

“Well, yeah! I don’t know the technique—who else am I supposed to ask?”

She burst into laughter. “Hahaha! You’ve got some nerve! When you were learning Mana Compression, you didn’t ask this many questions!”

“T-That’s because Mana Compression was easy to learn! And besides, Lumen Sancta helped me share the burden—”

“Bullshit!” she snapped. “That staff doesn’t even have a mind of its own. It can’t help you bear anything. That was all you, every last bit of it!”

“Now get to work! Practice until you’ve mastered Judgement of Soul. It’s not a hard skill to learn—but the real test is whether you can grasp the distinction between physical reality and the spiritual plane. You need to learn how to consciously control your own soul!”

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