Imprisoned for a Trillion Years, I Was Worshipped by All Gods!-Chapter 516 - 72-Ambush! Lioncrest Academy’s Underhanded Move

Meanwhile—

Outside the valley, the gathered students from Lioncrest Academy, who had been waiting for Alan and the others, were starting to grow impatient.

"I bet they're too scared to come out now."

"I heard they've been stocking up on supplies. At this rate, we're just wasting our time!"

"Exactly. When are we finally going to avenge Senior Gunn?"

The students began chattering among themselves.

Their gazes gradually shifted toward the very front of the group, where a slim young man stood, leaning on a staff.

He was Borg, one of the five prodigies of the External Affairs Department—and the leader of this revenge mission.

Hearing the murmurs behind him, Borg narrowed his eyes and stepped forward, walking toward the valley.

He had run out of patience.

This disgrace had to be washed away—with the blood of Alan and his companions.

"Everyone, move out. If they won't come to us, then we'll go to them!"

Hearing this, the other students immediately followed.

"Don't underestimate Alan's group. They're not as weak as you think. This time, we're wiping them out for good."

Everyone nodded in agreement.

"They caught Senior Gunn off guard last time. But this time, we're ready."

"They won't get another chance."

As they entered the valley, Isabella saw them from afar. Her heart skipped a beat, and she rushed off to find Gayle.

When she found him, Gayle simply gave her a reassuring look.

At that moment, Borg and his group arrived, spotting Gayle inside the grand hall. Borg called out:

"I am Borg, here to challenge the students of Sirius Academy!"

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"This match will determine not just superiority—but life and death!"

Lioncrest Academy's reputation had been tarnished, and they intended to reclaim it through Alan and the others.

"Very well. Go ahead," Gayle replied calmly.

Borg exhaled in relief—then charged forward with murderous intent.

Today, they would avenge Gunn and restore Lioncrest Academy's honor.

"Headmaster Gayle, they all seem really strong… I think my brother might be in danger!"

Gayle gently reassured her:

"Your brother and the others are not ordinary. They're not weaker than those students."

"Stay here with me. They… will be fine."

Isabella nodded obediently.

She didn't go up the mountain—she knew she wouldn't be any help to her brother and might even become a distraction.

Waiting here was the best option.

"Then I'll prepare some healing potions for them," she said with a sigh before returning to her room.

But after she left, a strange figure appeared.

An elderly man with white hair, clad in a silver robe, holding a staff—stepped into view.

His expression was solemn, almost divine in his cold demeanor.

With his arrival, the very air seemed to grow brighter and heavier, the atmosphere tense and oppressive.

He was none other than Stephen, Headmaster of Lioncrest Academy—

the most powerful mage in all of the Plantagenet Kingdom.

He glanced at the disheveled, drunken Gayle and said:

"It's been a while. You haven't changed much."

"You, on the other hand, seem even more authoritative."

"Why do you cling so stubbornly to this? One Lioncrest Academy is more than enough for the kingdom."

Gayle replied coolly:

"Isn't that what you wanted? The number one academy in Plantagenet Kingdom—you certainly have the title."

Stephen continued:

"You shouldn't place your hopes on those three. No matter what you do, it'll all be for nothing. They'll only become proof of your failure—corpses lying at your feet."

Gayle didn't argue. He simply said:

"Time will tell."

"Stubborn fool. Then one year from now, we'll see who's right."

Atop the mountain.

Alan suddenly paused his wooden sword training, sensing something. He looked forward.

Seeing the approaching Lioncrest Academy students, his expression turned surprised.

Francis and Fort sensed the disturbance too and quickly gathered near Alan.

"That shorty just let you stroll up here?" Fort asked in disbelief.

Borg replied calmly:

"We're all students, even if from rival academies. A year and a half from now, we'll be enemies in a life-and-death battle. There's no reason he would refuse an early match."

Alan understood now—Headmaster Gayle had let them in intentionally.

To him, they were touchstones, tests for Alan's group.

Though Alan didn't know the full story of the long-standing feud between the two academies, he was a student of Sirius Academy now.

And that meant choosing a side.

He had no personal grudges against these opponents, but for his own survival and gain—

he would have to fight them with everything he had.

"I don't want it said that Lioncrest Academy used dirty tactics. Three vs. three—a life-or-death duel!"

Alan exchanged glances with Francis and Fort. They stood firmly by his side.

Behind Borg, two other students stepped forward.

One held a black staff, his skin dark and rugged like forged iron, radiating a fierce, battle-hardened aura.

The other was wreathed in wind element, light and swift like a soaring bird.

Seeing them, Alan's heart sank.

He could feel a venomous danger from them—like staring into the eyes of snakes.

They were just as deep and unfathomable as Borg himself.

Moreover, their specialties mirrored those of Francis and Fort.

It was clear—Lioncrest Academy was taking this seriously. They hadn't sent in average students for Alan's group to gain fame—they sent killers.

"These guys aren't pushovers," Francis and Fort muttered, their expressions turning grim.

Just then, the dark-skinned young man stepped forward and fixed his gaze on Fort.

"Heard you're pretty talented. Let's see how long you can last against me."

He was cocky, with arrogance etched into his bones.

"I just hope you're still that smug when you're face-down in the dirt," Fort scoffed.

The young man sneered.

"Keep dreaming. Remember my name—Bolt. It'll be the one to send you to hell."

Suddenly, a terrifying aura erupted from him—like a flood of iron crushing the earth beneath him.

Tier: Gold Mage.

Feeling the pressure, Fort's face turned grim.

To reach Gold Tier at such a young age…

Lioncrest Academy truly lived up to its reputation, drawing in the top talents of the Plantagenet Kingdom.

In many remote regions, a single Gold Mage could dominate an entire territory.

Even Fort, often praised as the kingdom's number one prodigy, felt immense pressure now.

On the other side, the wind-shrouded youth looked at Francis with interest.

"A rare gravity element… interesting. You're worth fighting—but your tier's too low."

Francis narrowed his eyes.

"You think you're better than me? I fought Duke Alice and lived to tell the tale."

That seemed to catch the wind mage's attention.

A chilling breeze spread out, cutting like invisible blades in the air—

cold and relentless as winter itself.

Another Gold Mage.

Francis's eyelids twitched.

"What the hell—how are Gold Mages this common? Are they handing them out like cabbages?"

But having already talked big, Francis straightened up and said:

"I don't fight nameless nobodies. Who are you?"

The youth replied:

"They call me the Windchaser—Aesop."

Francis bared his teeth.

"Good. After today, they'll be calling you Aesop the Floor Hugger."

As Francis faced off against Aesop, and Fort against Bolt, Alan shifted his gaze away.

The two from Lioncrest were strong, not just in tier but experience.

Francis and Fort were outmatched in raw tier.

And given their elite background, these two likely had no weaknesses.

Francis and Fort were in real danger.

"Still worried about them?" came Borg's voice, sneering.

"Better worry about yourself—and treasure your final moments."

Borg unleashed a dominating Gold-tier pressure of his own.

This time, Lioncrest Academy had sent its elite, giving Alan's team no chance of survival.

In an instant, all three duels were on the verge of exploding into battle!