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

“As expected,” Alan thought, a glint of understanding flashing through his eyes.

He had already come up with a rough answer in his mind.

Old Gayle’s previous explanations had been far too vague. Besides, someone like Rose Duke Alice—a peerless genius encountered only once in centuries—was ultimately an exception. The method she used to master mana Overpressure couldn’t simply be generalized and applied to others.

It was even possible that Alice had been born with a natural form of mana Overpressure. It was ingrained in her, almost instinctual.

Trying to use his own hard work to exchange for something others were born with was obviously an unfair and losing trade.

Alan slowly clenched his fist and abruptly punched toward the crystal giant’s chest.

This punch carried no mana, no enchantment—just a venting blow, thrown in sheer frustration.

Yet even such an ordinary punch, relying only on the force of the gust it created, was enough to blast a bucket-sized hole straight through the crystal giant’s chest without even making direct contact.

The precondition for successfully wielding mana Overpressure was simple: you needed to possess a strength that vastly surpassed the norm.

The stronger you were, the greater the oppressive force you could exert. The two aspects complemented each other, forming a virtuous cycle.

This, Alan realized, was the most effective way for an ordinary person to grasp the concept of mana Overpressure.

“In the end, it’s still the same as before,” Alan murmured inwardly.

“As long as my strength is overwhelming enough, then no matter how complicated the technique—be it mana Overpressure, mana shaping, or any other so-called high-end skills—they’ll come to me naturally. There’s no need for me to deliberately study them.”

Still, he had to admit—the power of Overpressure was nothing to scoff at.

Alan lifted his head again and looked at the shattered chest of the crystal giant.

He recalled the time he had fought the stone golems earlier and had roughly gauged the durability of these magical constructs.

Without any interference from mana Overpressure, the defensive capabilities of a standard stone golem were roughly equivalent to those of a tier-gold mage.

This crystal giant, forged by fusing many stone golems together, had defenses that should have risen to tier-platinum levels.

Yet even so, a single punch fueled by pure Overpressure had caused devastating damage.

And this wasn’t even his full power—it was merely his base strength.

Alan didn’t even dare to imagine: if he unleashed this punch after amplifying it with the vital energy from the Stone of Sage, just how terrifying would it become?

He reckoned that even powerful tier-diamond mages might suffer a humiliating defeat if they were careless.

“Let’s see…” Alan mused thoughtfully.

“Since this technique concentrates Overpressure into a strike, and it has the effect of shattering enemy defenses… why not call it Mana Rupture?”

He chuckled at the thought.

In an actual battle, no opponent would ever expect that a mage, who had just been exchanging spells with them moments ago, would suddenly step in and throw a physical punch—

—especially a punch capable of rupturing mana shields and magical defenses alike!

The more Alan thought about it, the more amusing he found it.

He even started humming a little hometown tune as he left the training ground, stepping lightly like he didn’t have a care in the world.

However, not long after he departed, something unexpected happened.

The giant crystal figure, which had been sitting motionless on the ground, its core hollowed out by the earlier blow, suddenly developed countless hairline cracks spreading outward from its chest wound.

Then—

Crash!

A sharp, crisp sound echoed through the empty field.

The entire crystal giant, which had barely managed to maintain its form moments ago, shattered completely into a field of glittering debris.

The true destructive force of Mana Rupture…

…was even greater than Alan had imagined.

On his way past the training ground’s outer hall, Alan caught sight of a familiar figure.

“Why are you still here?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

There, slumped over in a chair, sat Fort. In front of him were stacks upon stacks of trays, each piled high with metal nails of various sizes and types.

“Y-You go on ahead,” Fort mumbled through a mouthful of metallic shards and bloody spit.

“I gotta finish… all of these.”

Alan couldn’t help the goosebumps that pricked his skin at the sight.

Old Gayle wasn’t training this kid—he was outright torturing him!

But then, Alan’s expression shifted subtly.

He sensed something unusual: Fort’s mana signature was beginning to change.

It was slowly, unmistakably aligning with the purest, most primal form of the metal element—Origin Metal Mana.

It finally clicked.

Old Gayle wasn’t just being cruel; he was helping Fort awaken his Origin Mana.

Fort was a Sharp Metal Elemental Body—a rare bloodline descended directly from the concept of metal itself.

By forcefully ingesting enormous quantities of metal, he was accelerating his return to his origin.

Still, Alan had to admit—this method of eating nails to achieve it looked absolutely horrifying.

“Haah… Huff… Haah… Huff…”

Just as Alan was observing Fort’s transformation, another figure bounded awkwardly toward them, hopping like a frog.

Alan chuckled and walked up with a teasing smile.

“How many laps do you have left?”

Francis collapsed beside the water fountain, guzzling down handfuls of water like a man dying of thirst.

Only after a long pause did he pant,

“F-Fifty laps left… That damned old man… you have no idea how brutal he is! The rope doesn’t look heavy at all, but the moment you start skipping, it feels like you’re hauling two mountains!”

“And I swear, every time I jump one round, it feels like the rope doubles in weight!”

Alan looked at him with a lazy, almost gleeful expression.

“Man, you guys are lucky,” he said, clearly enjoying Francis’s suffering.

“Headmaster must really value you both, giving you such ‘hardcore’ training tasks. I’m jealous.”

He stretched lazily.

“Unlike you, I only got to tinker a bit with some old stone golems before being dismissed. Wish I could get some of that ‘special attention,’ too.”

Francis rolled his eyes so hard they nearly fell out of his sockets.

He knew Alan was deliberately poking fun at him, but he still couldn’t help feeling a little aggrieved.

“Come on, seriously now. Old Gayle really just made you fix some worn-out stone golems? That’s it?”

“That’s your whole training session? You’re not even a puppet master!”

Alan just turned around, waving a hand dismissively.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said nonchalantly.

“Anyway, my mission’s done for today. You and Fort, though, keep it up. You don’t want to miss breakfast tomorrow, right?”

“You little—! Get back here!”

Francis instinctively leapt to his feet to chase after him.

But he had completely forgotten the enchanted ropes still binding his ankles.

The moment he tried to sprint, he tripped, faceplanting spectacularly into the dirt.

Muttering curses through a mouthful of grass and soil, Francis lay there, furiously spitting.

Meanwhile, Alan had already strolled far out of earshot, laughing softly to himself.

Late at night, Alan returned to his dormitory, moving stealthily to avoid waking his sister.

However, when he switched on the light, he froze.

There, sitting stiffly on a chair, staring straight at him, was Isabella.

Alan blinked, confused.

“Why aren’t you asleep yet?” he asked.

Before he could react further, Isabella leapt off the chair and ran straight into his arms, hugging him tightly.

Her sudden, unusually emotional behavior made Alan instinctively reach out and gently pat her head.

Softly, he asked,

“What’s wrong, Isabella? Did someone bully you again?”

Isabella shook her head quickly.

Then she looked up, her small face serious and timid at once.

“Brother,” she whispered.

“If I told you… that the strange disease on my body isn’t a curse… but a blessing from a true god—

…would you be happy for me?”