Imprisoned for a Trillion Years, I Was Worshipped by All Gods!-Chapter 547 - 103-Let’s See Who Dies First—You or Me!

While Alan was still struggling against his primal instincts, torn between reason and temptation, the outlines of Kent Kingdom began to emerge faintly on the distant horizon of the plains.

Among the many nations scattered across the continent, only Kent and Barton Kingdom shared borders with the mighty Plantagenet Kingdom. This geographical triangle had sparked countless skirmishes and full-blown conflicts throughout the last hundred years.

Yet despite the frequent clashes, the main belligerents had always been King Charlie's Plantagenet and Barton.

Kent Kingdom, on the other hand, seemed to adopt a different philosophy—almost as if its rulers had long foreseen the dangers of choosing a side. For generations, the kingdom had steadfastly upheld its neutrality.

But that neutrality should not be mistaken for weakness.

On the contrary, Kent Kingdom stood on ancient soil riddled with forgotten relics from bygone eras. Thanks to those legacies passed down through the ages, its people were among the most elite warriors and magi on the continent.

For this reason, neither Barton nor Plantagenet dared to provoke Kent lightly. Any large-scale invasion would be met with a steep and bloody price.

As the distant kingdom grew closer, the gray-haired woman seemed to recover a measure of her strength. Without warning, she shoved Alan backward, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Alan was about to complain, but before he could utter a word, the woman mounted his waist, pinning him beneath her. Her hands clamped tightly over his mouth.

A familiar black mist—thick, murky, and laced with an eerie cold—began to seep from her body. In seconds, it had enveloped them like a dark cocoon, obscuring them from sight.

And then, muffled voices echoed from outside.

"Keep searching! That monster couldn't have gotten far! The five priests gave their lives for the Church just to injure her—if we lose her now, how do we explain ourselves to the bishop? Or the believers?!"

Even within the cocoon, Alan could still sense the waves of mana rippling through the earth around them.

The black-robed woman chuckled lightly from within his mind.

"Seems like the Church is really pulling out all the stops. They even sent a few mages who are on the verge of reaching tier-diamond just to track her down."

Alan analyzed the situation quickly.

From the start, the one who had made enemies of the Church was the gray-haired woman—not him. He had simply followed her in pursuit of a scroll that rightfully belonged to him.

In that sense, he and the Church shared the same goal: recover the scroll.

So if that was the case, why should he be treated like a fugitive too?

With that thought, Alan reached into his pocket and touched the diamond card that Daniel had personally given him back on the magic train.

As long as he held this card, even the highest-ranking figures in the Church wouldn't dare act against him lightly.

But the black-robed woman immediately saw through his thoughts and let out a faint scoff.

"You're still too naïve," she said. "That card might serve as a token of trust, sure. But if the more rigid minds in the Church see you so intimately close to this woman—your actions questionable, your behavior ambiguous—what do you think they'll assume?"

Before Alan could answer, she continued, her voice low and knowing.

"They'll assume you're working with her. That everything you did before was just a clever act. And they won't hesitate to erase you both."

Alan sighed in frustration.

As much as he hated to admit it, her reasoning made perfect sense.

A mere card was no match for the Church's wrath—not after they'd lost multiple tier-platinum level mages in this single confrontation.

"Ugh…"

Suddenly, the gray-haired woman coughed up blood again. The dense mist around them wavered and thinned slightly.

Startled, she forced herself to focus, straining to maintain the stability of the mana barrier.

But in doing so, her grip weakened, and she collapsed directly into Alan's arms.

Her knees brushed against his thigh, pressing against the tense muscles beneath his clothes.

Her labored breathing made her tattered clothes shift rhythmically, and the scent of tulips, unique to the Kent Kingdom, drifted into Alan's nose.

The fire he had tried so hard to suppress earlier came roaring back.

Fortunately, the moment didn't last long.

After searching the area and failing to find the gray-haired woman's whereabouts, the Church's pursuers finally retreated.

A short while later, the woman slowly regained consciousness. She immediately dispelled the cocoon, but found herself too weak to even stand.

Alan stood up slowly, took a few steps back.

But the woman stared directly at him, eyes narrowed. She licked the blood from the corner of her lips and whispered:

"You think you can run from me?"

Alan raised his eyebrows. "Well, how would I know if I didn't try?"

With that, he spun around and bolted.

The woman gave a sharp scoff and shot to her feet. In the blink of an eye, she was upon him, grabbing the back of his neck and slamming him face-first into the ground.

The plains were dry and dusty. Dirt caked half of Alan's face, making him look utterly miserable.

He gritted his teeth, calling out desperately to the black-robed woman.

Still… no response.

"Think one more stupid thought," the gray-haired woman snarled, "and I'll kill you right now. Believe me?"

Alan, thinking quickly, put on an expression of hopelessness and said, "Go ahead, then. Kill me. What's the point? I'm dead either way, aren't I?"

Her grip tightened slightly. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Alan shook his head and sighed heavily. "Exactly what it sounds like."

"Even if you don't kill me now, the moment I take you to Kent Kingdom, you'll kill me anyway—to silence me. So what does it matter? Now or later—it's all the same."

The gray-haired woman pressed her lips together. She hadn't expected words like that from someone so young.

"You do have a decent sense of self-awareness," she admitted coldly.

But instead of letting go, she began to squeeze even harder.

That's when Alan suddenly changed his tone.

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"But I'm not going to die alone," he said. "If I have to die, I'll drag you down with me."

As soon as the words left his mouth, a soft golden light burst from his chest, so bright that it forced the gray-haired woman to squint and recoil.

In the next instant, a holy staff shaped like a sword, sacred and radiating divine danger, appeared in Alan's grasp.

He gripped it tightly and propped himself up on one knee, slowly breaking free of her control.

"I know I can't beat you in a one-on-one fight," Alan said calmly. "But don't forget—the Church's hunters are still close by. They're combing the area for you."

"If we start fighting here, the mana shockwaves will absolutely give away your location."

"Your dark-element isolation barrier—how many more times can you cast it?"

"However many times that is, it won't be enough to get you all the way back to Kent."

He stared at her unflinching.

"And that's not even the worst of it. If you fail to return with the scroll… your so-called allies hiding in Kent won't exactly welcome you back with open arms, will they?"

The woman clenched her jaw. "I could kill you before any of that happens. I'm strong enough."

"No doubt about it," Alan said with a cold smile.

Then he lifted the holy sword-staff and pointed its glowing tip straight at her heart.

"Then let's see who dies first—me… or you!"