Imprisoned for a Trillion Years, I Was Worshipped by All Gods!

“That felt good!”

After thoroughly humiliating the people of Lioncrest Academy, Alan found even his walking steps becoming lighter and more cheerful.

This time, his little “operation” hadn’t been prompted by old Gayle; it was purely a spontaneous idea that struck him while casually wandering near Lioncrest Academy.

Before arriving in the Imperial Capital, Alan had always believed that the people of the big cities would possess a much higher level of civility and virtue.

However, ever since the incident where Isabella had been kidnapped by Lioncrest Academy students, Alan had been forced to recognize a harsh truth—

“Crows everywhere are equally black.”

People’s kindness might vary from one to another,

but their capacity for evil was always the same—ugly and repulsive.

The only reason Lioncrest Academy hadn’t already been reduced to rubble beneath his feet was thanks to the protection of Stephen, that Legendary Mage,

as well as the powerful vice headmasters guarding those students.

Had they not been there, Alan would have long since flattened the Academy without a second thought.

Clap! Clap! Clap!

Just as Alan was about to cross the Third Avenue of the Imperial Capital, he suddenly heard a series of strange, crisp sounds coming from the ruins flanking the street.

Unable to suppress his curiosity, he veered off the road and made his way toward the source of the noise.

It didn’t take long before he spotted a young girl, roughly the same age as Isabella, dressed in a light purple princess dress, squatting amidst the debris and fiddling with something.

One thing in particular caught his attention—

On the side of the girl’s slender neck, there was a faint mark resembling a black rose.

“A tattoo at that age?”

Alan clicked his tongue in disapproval.

Judging by her clothing, the girl didn’t look like she came from a poor family.

So why was she alone in this abandoned stretch of ruins?

If not for the fact that this was the shortest route back to Sirius Academy, Alan himself wouldn’t usually come anywhere near this broken, desolate area.

Splat!

Another crisp sound snapped him back to attention.

Alan quickly pinpointed the source—

The girl in the princess dress was scooping up lumps of black, muddy clay and slapping them repeatedly onto the ground, as if trying to make it more pliable.

However, it was clear she wasn’t experienced with handling such materials.

After pouring water onto the mud, she had made it even wetter and sloppier—

threatening to dissolve it into nothing but a thin pool of dirty water.

“Hold it! That’s not how you do it!”

As someone who considered himself an expert at playing with mud, Alan couldn’t stand by and watch any longer.

He strode over without hesitation.

“You can’t mold mud like that.”

Without waiting for a response, Alan thrust his hands into the gooey mixture.

Scooping up a handful of dry soil from nearby, he sprinkled it over the mud, carefully kneading it in to restore the proper consistency.

Little by little, the once watery sludge regained a firm, moldable texture.

The girl’s eyes widened into perfect circles.

She hadn’t understood a thing—

One moment, the mud had been falling apart under her fingers;

the next, Alan had swooped in, kneaded it a few times,

and suddenly it was workable again.

It was almost like magic.

“It’s the same principle as baking bread,” Alan said casually.

“Too much water? Add flour. Too much flour? Add water.”

“Judging by how you were handling it… you don’t play with mud very often, do you? Or maybe—”

He stopped mid-sentence.

Because at that moment, he got a close look at the girl’s face.

Unlike most girls her age, whose complexions were rosy and full of life,

this princess-dressed girl was deathly pale—

not the healthy pale of nobility, but the sickly pallor of illness.

She was also painfully thin.

Not quite skin and bones yet, but disturbingly close.

But what left the deepest impression were her eyes—

Her irises were pure black.

In the Plantagenet Kingdom, different regions produced residents with a variety of eye colors—

brown, gray, blue—

but pure black irises?

Alan had never seen such a thing.

Those pitch-black eyes were like twin obsidian stones,

swallowing all the surrounding light,

giving the eerie illusion that if one stared too long,

their very soul might be drawn into them.

Feeling uncomfortable, Alan quickly wiped the sweat off his forehead and turned his gaze away, trying to shake off the unsettling feeling.

“Were you trying to make something out of this mud?”

He asked, using the motion of wiping sweat as an excuse to shift his focus away from her.

The girl remained silent for a moment.

Then, with her dirty little hands, she lifted her dress slightly and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from inside—

on it, a childlike drawing made in simple black lines.

“Interesting… is this supposed to be a unicorn?”

Alan chuckled, pointing at the rough sketch of a horned horse on the paper.

The girl shook her head firmly, then looked up at him with a gaze full of anticipation.

Alan was startled.

He pointed at himself.

“You want me to sculpt it?”

The girl nodded vigorously.

Alan scratched his head and said,

“Alright… I’ll give it a try.

But if it turns out ugly, you’re not allowed to laugh at me, okay?”

He wasn’t lacking in confidence, of course.

Far from it—

Alan’s skill with sculpting soft materials had been honed to perfection through years of baking bread for his little sister.

Not to mention, he had recently mastered an advanced magical technique: Mana Shaping.

Compared to taming the volatile chaos of raw mana,

mud and dough were child’s play.

The humble words were simply to preserve a little dignity for the inexperienced princess-dressed girl.

Soon, under Alan’s deft and nimble hands—

A jet-black warhorse, complete with a proud, sharp horn atop its forehead, began to take shape.

Not long after, Alan snapped his fingers lightly.

A tiny flame, glowing faintly with an orange-red hue, danced to life at his fingertip.

With a serious expression, he carefully baked the muddy surface of the unicorn, drying it thoroughly without leaving a single crack.

When all was done, he stepped back and let out a long, satisfied sigh.

Admiring his handiwork, he asked the girl,

“Alright, take a look.

If there’s anything you don’t like,

I’ll fix it up using the leftover mud.”

The princess-dressed girl’s mouth fell open slightly in awe.

She carefully cradled the black unicorn in her small hands,

examining it from every angle with a look of wonder.

It was hard for her to believe that only moments ago,

that sloppy mess of mud had been transformed into something so vivid and lifelike.

Seeing her stunned expression, Alan chuckled and explained,

“When working with mud, it’s not just about getting the water-to-dirt ratio right.

You also have to slow down—take your time.

Good work comes from patience.”

“If you get frustrated and smash it every time something goes wrong,

then you’ll never create anything, even if you smash mud for the rest of your life.”

Hearing his words, the princess-dressed girl furrowed her brows slightly,

an almost defiant glint flashing through her dark eyes—

as if she wasn’t entirely convinced.

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