Imprisoned for a Trillion Years, I Was Worshipped by All Gods!-Chapter 612 - 168-The Royal Command

Old Gayle let out a hearty laugh.

"Though your strength has grown significantly, your kind-hearted nature hasn't changed one bit. Truly, you're a student worthy of Sirius Academy's name."

"It seems you've always understood from the beginning—that strength exists to protect, not to harm. That spares me the trouble of teaching you that lesson."

Alan scratched his head, feeling a little embarrassed by the praise. He quickly waved his hands, trying to be modest. "Not at all, Headmaster. Francis and Fort train even harder than I do. If you have time, you should really pay more attention to them instead."

"Brother!"

Francis, eyes brimming with emotion, darted over to Alan and nearly dropped to his knees on the spot.

"Even with your strength soaring, you didn't forget us brothers. Say no more—from now on, you're my big bro! You tell me to head east, and I'll never look west. You want me to catch a dog? I won't go chasing chickens!"

Fort didn't dramatize his emotions like Francis did, but the look he gave Alan was filled with gratitude and admiration.

After a while, Francis seemed to grow tired from all the bootlicking. He finally shifted the topic with curiosity. "Hey, by the way… that skill you used earlier to walk through the air—how did that work? Is it a magus-only ability? Can you teach it to us?"

At once, Fort, Blanche, and even old Gayle leaned in with visible anticipation.

It was clear that the idea of a magus-exclusive skill was deeply enticing to these mages.

If all went well, they might become the first group in nearly a century to closely observe—or even learn—a true magus-specific technique. Their curiosity was natural, their eagerness understandable.

But Alan looked conflicted.

It wasn't that he didn't want to teach them. He had no intention of hoarding knowledge or withholding things from his companions.

The truth was—he didn't even consider that airborne walk as a skill to begin with.

In Alan's view, as long as you could maintain a stable flow of mana and sustain its frequency beneath your feet, the rest was simple: just form a few mana platforms in midair and step across them.

It didn't seem like anything special.

As long as a mage had reached a certain level of proficiency in shaping and manipulating mana, they should be able to pull it off—at least, that's what Alan believed.

What he didn't know was that, across the entirety of the Plantagenet Kingdom, mages who could meet both of those conditions were vanishingly rare.

He had unconsciously equated magus and mage—a fundamental misconception.

In reality, even the starting point of a magus was a towering summit most mages could never hope to reach.

And as for walking through the air? That wasn't just a high-level trick—it bordered on miracle-tier magic.

Even someone as powerful as old Gayle—ranked among the kingdom's Legendary mages—would have to rewrite the rules of reality itself just to mimic what Alan had done so naturally.

Creating floating mana platforms of just the right size, density, and shape beneath one's feet, and doing so with perfect precision... Even for Gayle, that would be a delicate, failure-prone process. frёewebnoѵēl.com

"I… I'm afraid I can't teach you," Alan admitted honestly.

But Francis wasn't having it.

"You little traitor!" he shouted, looking deeply betrayed. "I tucked you in my pocket like a brother, and now you shove me into a ditch?"

"If you don't wanna teach it, just say so! What's with the excuses? Ugh—forget it. I wouldn't have learned it even if you offered. Hmph. So disappointed. I'm leaving. Watch me walk away..."

He exaggeratedly turned his body, as if waiting for someone to call him back.

Alan chuckled, clearly amused. "I'm not joking. I really can't teach you. Truth is, that was my first time trying it just now. I don't even fully understand the method or the underlying mechanics yet."

"Even if I gave you the steps I followed, I doubt it would work. We all channel mana differently. If you force it, it might even backfire and cause you harm."

Francis froze for a moment. Seeing how serious Alan was, he finally dialed back his teasing.

"Alright, alright. I was just messing with you. Don't take it to heart. But honestly… I never realized magi were this strong. Watching you crush those guys from Lioncrest, I always thought you were secretly training behind our backs."

"Now I know… it's just a matter of talent. Sigh… Why does it feel like I just lost a match I never even entered?"

At that moment, old Gayle clapped his hands, stepping in decisively.

"Enough chatter. That's the end of this discussion."

"Francis, Fort—get back to the training grounds. Alan's already advanced to tier-silver. What excuse do you two have for standing still?"

Normally, after a scolding like that, Francis would grumble and moan for a bit before dragging his feet to training.

That routine had become part of daily life at Sirius Academy.

But today was different.

Francis and Fort both kept their mouths shut, their faces tense with determination. They turned and marched to the training grounds without a word—and immediately launched into intense practice drills.

Clearly, Alan's advancement had sparked something in them: a powerful surge of competitiveness.

Old Gayle turned to Alan and Blanche. "You two as well—head back to your rooms. The sun's blazing out here. Don't go getting heatstroke."

"Headmaster?" Alan blinked. That wasn't like him at all.

Gayle had never been known for gentle concern. Most students saw him as a lazy, wine-soaked old man—someone who seemed permanently fused to his favorite chair, not the type to hand out caring advice.

What was going on with him today?

Alan was tempted to ask, but Gayle shot him a sharp look that instantly silenced any questions.

With no choice, Alan and Blanche turned to leave.

But as Alan returned to his dormitory, he suddenly realized—

His sister was gone.

…

At that same moment, at the gates of Sirius Academy, Gayle created a rocking chair out of pure mana.

He slumped into it, rocking gently while sipping from a small silver flask. His gaze remained fixed on the far end of the street—as though he were waiting for someone.

And indeed, not long after, a tall man in a white robe appeared on the horizon.

Gayle's eyes narrowed. He opened them fully and spoke with a cold, biting voice:

"What's wrong, Stephen? Couldn't solve things with a bounty, so now you've come to do the job yourself?"

The white-robed man, Stephen, met his glare with equal intensity.

"I wouldn't bother personally with some insect like that. And I have no idea what bounty you're talking about."

Gayle smirked as if he'd expected that answer.

"Sure, Stephen. Keep playing dumb. But let me make one thing perfectly clear—"

He leaned forward in his chair, eyes sharp and dangerous.

"If you want Alan dead, you'll have to step over my corpse first."

"As long as I draw breath, I swear I'll drag Lioncrest Academy into the dirt and grind it to ash."

Stephen gave a dismissive snort. "Tch. You're all bark, old man. You think Lioncrest Academy is scared of you?"

His fists clenched at his sides… but after a moment, he slowly released them.

"No. Let's put that aside for now. I'm not here today on behalf of the academy."

He took a step forward.

"I come as a representative of the Royal Family—and I'm here to deliver a Royal Command to Sirius Academy."