Imprisoned for a Trillion Years, I Was Worshipped by All Gods!-Chapter 512 - 68-Alan Surrounded

After Alan drove the carriage away with Francis and the others, all eyes turned to the three Lioncrest Academy students slowly getting up from the ground.

Each of their faces was twisted with rage, their eyes burning with murderous intent.

Ever since Sirius Academy fell from grace, Lioncrest Academy had taken the throne as the top academy in the Plantagenet Kingdom. Students from Sirius either backed down at the first sign of confrontation or got thoroughly beaten when caught. When had they ever been humiliated like this—especially in public?

This was a disgrace like no other.

The scar-faced youth couldn't stomach it. He roared like a rabid wolf, "This isn't over! They'll pay in blood!"

Enraged, he was the first to bolt in the direction Alan's group had gone.

The two others, still aching from their wounds, gritted their teeth and followed quickly. If they didn't redeem themselves fast, not only would they disgrace the name of Lioncrest Academy, but their status within the school would suffer.

Lioncrest Academy was used to dominating others—when had they ever been bullied?

Fueled by fury, the three launched themselves toward Alan's carriage with terrifying speed.

As Lioncrest Academy elites, they were all rare mage talents, and their burst speed was jaw-dropping.

Alan, carrying heavy supplies, wasn't moving fast. Within moments, the three caught up.

"Think you can just walk away after hitting us?" they shouted, their expressions ferocious. "You're going to pay for this!"

But before they finished yelling, Alan had already responded—with a powerful kick.

A pale shockwave exploded out as he struck the scar-faced youth again, launching him into the air. The man crashed into the ground with a loud thud, forming a crater as debris and dust scattered.

Splat!

Already wounded, the youth was further devastated by this strike. His face flushed red, and he coughed up a mouthful of black blood.

"You're dead, Alan!" he spat hatefully. "Dead! Once I recover, I'll wipe out your whole damn family!"

But no sooner had he spoken than Alan's icy gaze locked onto him.

"Heh. Starting to feel scared now, huh?" Alan said coldly. "Here's your choice: break your own arms and I might let you live. Otherwise, I'll make you wish you were dead—and have your sister work the brothels."

As his words fell, a chilling aura of Blade Spirit erupted from Alan's body. An intense white light burst forth, illuminating the sky.

In the scar-faced youth's horrified eyes, a gleaming sword light tore through the air—growing larger by the second.

Slice!

His head soared skyward, red blood spraying from his severed neck like a gruesome fountain.

The air filled with the thick, metallic stench of blood.

The other two Lioncrest students, standing nearby, were frozen in terror. Sticky blood splattered on their faces as they trembled uncontrollably.

Alan... had killed someone!

And not just anyone—he'd publicly executed a Lioncrest Academy student!

Their shock was immense. Fear gripped their hearts like icy chains.

The bystanders, too, were stunned. No one expected Alan to be so ruthless—to behead someone on the street without hesitation.

How long had it been since something this brutal happened in the capital?

Even Francis and Fort were wide-eyed with disbelief.

"Let's go," Alan said, ignoring the stares. He urged the carriage forward, moving away at top speed.

Not long after Alan departed, a group of over twenty Lioncrest Academy students arrived in a hurry.

At the head of the group was a pale-skinned youth, wearing blood-red robes and holding a demonic staff. His appearance was eerie and unsettling.

He was Gunn, one of the top five prodigies in Lioncrest Academy's External Affairs Department.

When he saw the headless corpse of the scar-faced youth, his expression turned ice-cold.

"Alan... you've got a death wish," Gunn hissed. "You dared to lay hands on our people?"

"This grudge will be avenged!"

"Tonight, we drink his blood and raze his academy—leave not even chickens or dogs alive!"

With that, he stormed off in the direction Alan had gone.

The rest of the Lioncrest students, roused by the blood-colored magical aura surging around Gunn, followed him in pursuit.

…

Meanwhile, down on the plains at the base of the mountain—

Alan was still urging the carriage forward at full speed.

In the back, Francis hesitated before speaking.

"Alan, weren't we too reckless back there? Killing a Lioncrest student… they'll stop at nothing for revenge now!"

Alan shook his head slightly. "He brought it on himself. I don't regret it."

Francis sighed. He knew full well—if the scar-faced youth hadn't humiliated Isabella, Alan never would've gone that far.

"So what do we do next?" Francis asked. "They definitely won't let this go."

"We keep going. Once we reach the mountain, this becomes Headmaster Gayle's problem," Alan replied calmly.

"And if there are too many of them? What if we can't win?"

"Then we fight anyway," Alan said with a firm gaze.

Francis: "…"

Just as they spoke, powerful elemental fluctuations suddenly lit up behind them like candles in the night—rapidly gaining ground.

Lioncrest Academy students.

And there were a lot of them.

Alan and the others instantly grew serious.

"Francis, take my sister and run. Leave this to Fort and me!"

Francis hesitated, but then nodded and grabbed Isabella—who was just about to protest—and dashed off the carriage in a flash of black light, vanishing from sight.

Alan turned to Fort. "This is my mess. It has nothing to do with you. You should go too."

Fort shook his head. "We're both from Sirius Academy. I'm not leaving. Besides, I've never liked those Lioncrest bastards anyway."

The moment he spoke, a blood-red light shot toward them, landing in front of the carriage and blocking their path.

"So you're the reckless Alan?" said Gunn, who now stood in their way.

He licked his thin lips, his tone dripping with malice.

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In an instant, the ground beneath his feet transformed into a bloody mire, bubbling with red, putrid steam.

The moment the carriage's wheels reached the edge, they started to sink.

Alan halted immediately, his eyes narrowing at Gunn.

Tier-bronze peak.

This guy was high-level—and clearly had some kind of mutated elemental affinity. Just looking at him made Alan's blood roil, as if Gunn had control over his body.

Blood element? A mutation of water?

Alan's expression grew grim.

Any element beyond the four base types was dangerous—and rarely wielded by the weak.

While Alan studied Gunn, the latter sneered. He suddenly glided across the blood-mire with terrifying speed, arriving in front of Alan in a blink.

A strange pulse emanated from his demonic staff.

Disturbance.

A tier-bronze manipulation spell—one that disrupted blood flow. Against lower-tier mages, it could destabilize their mana or even rupture their bodies from within.

But when the spell hit Alan, nothing happened.

Gunn's eyes widened in disbelief.

Alan was only tier-iron! Yet he'd completely resisted the spell's effects?

That was a first.

"No wonder you managed to kill one of my academy's students... Seems you're special. That just makes you a better specimen for my collection," Gunn muttered darkly.

Since Disturbance had failed, blood energy surged around his staff, morphing it into a massive crimson blade, which he brought down upon Alan.

The wave of blood energy dyed the surroundings a horrifying red.

Alan gripped his longsword tightly and launched into the air with a powerful leap. He met the attack head-on, his Blade Spirit slicing through the tainted air like a purifying force—restoring it to its natural state.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Sword and blood-blade collided again and again, sparks flying like falling stars.

The two exchanged dozens of blows in rapid succession, yet neither could gain the upper hand.

But Alan's solid foundation and mastery of Blade Spirit were starting to give him a slight edge.

Gunn felt the tremors through his arms and began to frown.

He'd thought this would be easy—but this guy was nothing like he expected.

He couldn't even land a decisive blow!

"Blood Mirror Spell!"

Gunn suddenly disengaged with a burst of force and leapt backward.

In front of him, blood energy swirled and solidified into a massive crimson mirror several meters tall. Ancient blood runes writhed around its surface, and eerie whispers filled the air.

Alan's heart skipped a beat. He sensed danger.

He looked up—and saw his own reflection slowly form on the surface of the mirror.

The next moment, the whispering voice let out a sinister laugh. A pair of blood-red hands tore through the mirror's surface, and a crimson doppelgänger of Alan lunged out at him.

Its skin was stained red, and its aura was nearly as strong as Gunn's—tier-bronze peak.

"Not many can say they've died to my Blood Mirror Spell," Gunn said with a wicked smirk. "Consider it an honor."

Then, he and the blood clone charged toward Alan—together.