Imprisoned for a Trillion Years, I Was Worshipped by All Gods!-Chapter 577 - 133-Eat It

"So scary?"

Francis raised an eyebrow and said to Gayle, "Let me just say this upfront—we're not monsters like Alan. We don't have the experience or the ability to take on multiple opponents at once."

"So..."

As he spoke, he turned to Alan, giving him a pitiful look and pleaded, "So, brother, if anything really happens, you gotta be the first one to step up, alright?"

Alan rolled his eyes at him and sighed, "Could you at least try to rein in your idiocy a little? You're dragging down the average intelligence of the entire space."

"Think about it a little, will you? The Headmaster wouldn't have brought these problems out into the open unless he already had some solutions in mind."

Hearing this, Francis's eyes lit up. He quickly turned to Gayle again, full of hope.

"Really? Headmaster, you really have a way for us to handle fighting against multiple enemies at once?"

Old Gayle merely let out a cold snort.

"You're dreaming," he said, voice heavy with disdain. "Unless you have overwhelming strength and can crush every enemy in front of you, if you ever face two or more mages at once, you'd better find a way to run. The increase in numbers leads to a change in quality. Facing just one more mage means you'll have to split your focus to handle an entirely different elemental attack."

"Not to mention, when certain elements are combined, their synergy can produce effects far beyond the sum of their parts."

After hearing Old Gayle's explanation, Francis slumped back into his chair, drained of all energy.

"So basically, we're just sitting around waiting to die, huh?" he said miserably.

"Not necessarily."

Blanche suddenly lifted her head and looked seriously at Gayle.

"With Stephen having modified the wager, we might be able to exploit some loopholes."

"He can hire bounty hunters to attack us through financial means—"

"Then we can do the same. We can hire mercenaries to strike back."

Old Gayle let out a deep sigh, his voice low and tired.

"At first, I thought the same. After all, in my younger days, I did befriend quite a few mercenary leaders. If I could just swallow my pride and ask them for help, maybe, just maybe, we could turn things around."

Upon hearing Old Gayle's softened stance, Francis immediately straightened up in excitement.

"Then what are we waiting for, Headmaster? Hurry up and contact them!"

But instead, Old Gayle slammed the jug on the table with a loud thud, his face twisted with bitterness.

"It's not that I'm too proud to beg. It's just... after all these years, most of those mercenary leaders have already made it big."

"And as for us, Sirius Academy? Calling it 'barely functioning' would be a compliment!"

"Even if they wouldn't outright mock us because of our old ties, once they actually saw the pitiful state we're in now... Who could guarantee they wouldn't look down on us? Honestly, I just don't have the guts to face that humiliation."

...

The atmosphere turned deathly still.

Everyone's eyes were locked on Old Gayle, yet no one dared to speak.

After all, they could only vaguely imagine how much pressure their Headmaster was shouldering.

Trying to lighten the mood, Francis forced a grin and said,

This content is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

"Well, you never know unless you try. Maybe those mercenary leaders are all outstandingly kind-hearted people now?"

Old Gayle gave a bitter laugh.

"That might have been true ten or twenty years ago, back when Sirius Academy was at its peak."

"Back then, those so-called mercenary captains wouldn't even dare to breathe loudly in front of me. They had no choice but to be good people."

"But now... sigh... a fallen lion can't even keep mangy dogs at bay."

His voice was full of resignation.

Even Francis, usually so light-hearted, found himself infected by the heavy mood and sat quietly in his chair, saying nothing.

At that moment, Old Gayle suddenly stood up and pointed at Alan, Francis, and Fort.

"Enough with the useless talk! If you want to change your fate, you'd better take action! Ten minutes from now—meet me at the training field!"

With that, he left the dining hall without looking back.

The three who were called out looked at each other, feeling a little baffled.

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

Francis stood up and waved the other two along.

Alan wiped the corner of his lips with a napkin and was just about to follow Francis when—

Isabella suddenly tugged at the corner of his shirt, her voice soft and hesitant.

"Brother... can you stay with me a little longer?"

"Of course."

Hearing his sister's request, Alan immediately sat back down without hesitation.

He turned to Francis and Fort and waved them away.

"You guys go ahead. I'll catch up soon."

"Got it, got it."

Francis waved dismissively without even looking back.

Soon, the dining hall was left with just Alan and Isabella.

She sat there quietly, resting her chin in her small hands, gazing at Alan intently—as if she wanted to imprint every detail of his face into her memory.

Alan scratched his face awkwardly and asked,

"What's with you today? You're acting weird."

Isabella smiled gently.

"Really? I just missed you so much, brother. I wanted to have a good look at you."

"Well, fine. Look all you want—but don't make me late for the Headmaster."

Alan gave a bitter chuckle. There was no way he could refuse when his little sister acted like this.

After a moment, Isabella lowered her gaze and said quietly,

"You can go now, brother. I've looked enough."

"Oh... okay."

Still feeling slightly bewildered, Alan stood up and walked out of the dining hall.

Along the way, he kept glancing back—only to find that Isabella's eyes never once wavered, always following him closely.

But unlike before, today's Isabella seemed... different.

Her gaze was powerful, full of energy, and her entire aura had subtly changed.

"Was that... just my imagination?"

Alan shook off the strange feeling and continued toward the training field.

—

"Everyone's here?"

At the training ground, Old Gayle stood with his hands behind his back, swiftly scanning the three of them.

Then he crooked a finger at Fort.

"You first. How's your development with the sharp metal element?"

Fort frowned slightly, troubled, and replied,

"I've... hit a bottleneck."

"Oh?"

Old Gayle gave him a thoughtful look.

"What kind of bottleneck?"

"The metal element... it's too heavy. I can't... control it freely."

"I see."

Old Gayle fell silent for a few seconds, then suddenly walked toward the corner of the training ground.

After rummaging around noisily for a bit, he pulled out a battered old box and dumped it out—spilling a heap of rusty iron nails at Fort's feet.

"Eat them."

"Huh?"

Fort stared blankly at Old Gayle, confused.

"I said, eat them."

Old Gayle's expression was serious, not a hint of joking in his eyes.

Fort gritted his teeth.

"Alright, I'll eat!"

Without hesitation, he knelt down and began stuffing the rusty nails—each about ten centimeters long—into his mouth, one by one.

Soon, everyone could hear a series of metallic clangs coming from inside Fort's mouth—

as if a blacksmith had set up shop inside his skull.

Watching this horrific sight, Francis's face turned pale with fear.

He couldn't help but rush over to Gayle and cry out,

"Headmaster! This... this won't kill him, right? Look! Fort's already bleeding from the mouth!"