Imprisoned for a Trillion Years, I Was Worshipped by All Gods!-Chapter 561 - 117-Those Who Wait for His Return

At the same time, within the heart of Ironblood City…

Inside her private chambers, the Third Princess lay restless upon her bed, tossing and turning without reprieve.

Suddenly, a maid burst into the room, breathless and pale with urgency.

"Y-Your Highness… something terrible has happened!"

The Third Princess immediately sat upright, tension written all over her face.

"What is it?"

The maid tried to steady her breathing before replying in a quivering voice, "Just now, news arrived from the Church… The magic train that was supposed to bring Lord Alan back—it… it met with an accident. The survival rate is estimated at less than twenty percent…"

"What?!"

The Third Princess leapt out of bed and headed for the door without a second thought.

The maid quickly rushed to stop her.

"Please, Your Highness—right now, the Church is busy comforting the families of victims. Everyone there is overwhelmed… You won't be able to get any solid information even if you go."

The Third Princess's eyes turned red with emotion. Her voice was icy.

"Did the Church say anything about the cause of the accident? Was it… a mishap, or something intentional?"

The maid hesitated for a moment before replying, "That part hasn't been fully investigated yet… but some of the survivors claimed they saw a massive magic array appear in the sky above the train right before the accident…"

The Third Princess's face grew even more ashen.

She asked urgently, "Is Alan's name on the list of survivors?"

The maid froze, then slowly lowered her gaze and shook her head with a heavy sigh.

Crash!

Suddenly, several flashes of invisible blade light erupted around the Third Princess.

The tables, chairs, cups, and vases inside the chamber were all cleanly sliced in half, crashing to the ground in a chaos of splintered wood and shattered porcelain, as though a violent storm had passed through.

Yet even this wasn't enough to quell her fury.

The Third Princess crouched low and slammed a clenched fist against the ground.

Her voice cracked, trembling with grief and rage.

"Lioncrest Academy… you beasts are worse than pigs and dogs!"

The maid hesitantly approached, hoping to offer comfort.

But the Third Princess violently shook off her hand and growled,

"Replace all of the city's scouting soldiers—send them directly to the site of the incident. I want a thorough investigation!"

The maid nodded but then asked cautiously, "But… if we reassign all of them, won't that leave the city undefended?"

The Third Princess waved a hand dismissively.

"They're destined to return anyway. Finding him now matters more than holding the gates."

"Understood!"

The maid bowed and turned to leave, swiftly passing on the Princess's orders to the scouts.

Back inside the silent chamber, the Third Princess slowly stood up.

She leaned against the doorway, drawing out a pale gold rune stone from her pocket.

She stared at it with a dazed, longing expression.

"You're going to be okay, right?"

"No… you will be okay."

"I won't let this happen—not to you."

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But then, her eyes dimmed.

She clutched the rune stone tightly in her palm and slowly slid down the doorframe, her body trembling.

At dawn, Alan once again stood before the gates of Ironblood City.

Around him were a few merchants and travelers, all waiting for the gates to open.

He now wore a gentleman's hat, a dark brown long coat, and a pair of sunglasses.

No one would've linked him to Alan—the young prodigy allegedly killed in a magic train explosion.

"Strange… Where are the watchtower guards?"

Alan paused near the city entrance, curious about the missing soldiers who were usually stationed above.

But he didn't have the time to dwell on it.

The moment the sun crested the horizon, the gates of Ironblood City swung open.

Blending into the crowd, Alan quietly entered the city with the others.

His first instinct was to head toward the Third Princess's residence—but halfway there, he suddenly stopped.

His expression changed, and he turned sharply, making his way to the Church instead.

Right now, he was supposed to be dead.

He couldn't risk any contact with the Third Princess—not just to avoid exposure, but because he didn't want to drag her into danger.

At 9 a.m., Alan successfully "borrowed" a Church uniform and posed as one of their workers, slipping into the staff preparing the next magic train for departure.

Soon after, the front of the train hissed with steam and slowly pulled out of the station—destination: the Capital.

After finishing his assigned tasks, Alan let out a long sigh of relief.

Dodging his coworkers' attention, he slipped into the rearmost boiler room of the train and locked the door tightly behind him.

Only once he was completely sure that no one was around… did Alan finally allow his consciousness to descend back into Hell.

This time, he had a singular goal:

To master the art of mana shaping he had just begun to grasp.

Within the first layer of Hell, the chaotic mana raged like dried, cracked clay—uncooperative and nearly immovable, no matter how hard Alan tried.

Even so, he made some progress.

At the very least, he was now able to reshape the blazing Hell Flame around him into cone shapes.

Though he could only mold basic elemental mana for now, Alan was confident.

Given enough practice, he'd soon be able to control even the fine threads of mana that drifted invisibly through the air.

It was just a matter of patience and concentration.

With that thought, Alan threw himself fully into the process—absorbing and reshaping the surrounding mana again and again.

Two days passed.

The magic train carrying Church personnel was now entering the Capital's domain.

Some of the Church members aboard were starting to grow curious.

"Hey? Anyone seen that new kid from the other day?"

"Not sure… I think someone saw him go into the boiler room?"

"Heavens above… Don't tell me he stayed in there all night? That kid's got some serious work ethic!"

None of them knew that Alan couldn't hear a word they said.

His mind was still deep within Hell, completely immersed in the art of mana shaping.

Alan had always had a natural gift for comprehension—and now, with Hell's abundant mana, he was rapidly improving.

Soon, he could not only manipulate Hell Flame, but also begin nudging the more volatile mana drifting in the air.

Half a day later, the train screeched into the Capital's station.

The wheels ground against the rails with a painful screech, echoing through the early morning air.

Meanwhile, within the Sirius Academy, deep inside the Capital…

At the edge of a reflecting pool, Isabella sat quietly, head bowed and feet gently swaying over the water.

Every so often, she heard footsteps echo in the distance.

And every time, she'd jerk her head up, heart filled with hope—was it him?

But it never was.

This time, the footsteps belonged to Blanche.

"You've been sitting here all day, Isabella."

Blanche walked up and gently patted the girl's head.

Isabella shook her head. "I'm not daydreaming… I'm waiting for my brother."

Blanche tilted her head. "Why here, though? The Academy's main gate is quite far from this spot."

"Because," Isabella said confidently, "this is where he always sneaks me off to play."

"So when he comes back… he'll definitely come here first."

Blanche let out a soft chuckle.

She didn't argue. She just stood beside her, silently hoping the girl was right.