Imprisoned for a Trillion Years, I Was Worshipped by All Gods!-Chapter 639 - 195-Surrounded by Powerful Foes

"Who's there?! Argh—!"

Just moments after Alan had finished off the last two attackers, a sharp scream suddenly rang out from behind him.

He spun around instantly, his instincts flaring, only to see a figure plummeting from the sky, like a bird whose wings had been violently torn away.

Alan narrowed his eyes.

The figure… was Francis!

"What happened?!"

Alan's brows knit into a tight frown. Without hesitation, he rushed toward the point where Francis was about to crash.

As he moved, his eyes caught a new presence floating in midair.

It wasn't someone he recognized.

The newcomer wore no mage robe, only a casual outfit in deep violet tones—but the chaotic swirl of mana around him made it unmistakably clear that this man was a mage.

The man calmly rubbed the rune ring on his finger, his lips curved into a faint smirk as he peered down at Alan from above.

But the unsettling part?

Even though the two weren't far apart, Alan couldn't see his face.

No matter how hard he focused, the stranger's features remained hidden, blurred by some sort of powerful illusion. All he could sense were a pair of sharp, predatory eyes sweeping over him like blades.

But there was no time to dwell on that.

Alan reached Francis and helped him sit up, concern flashing in his voice. "Are you okay?"

Francis spat out a mouthful of blood, his expression a mixture of pain and frustration.

"Cough… Don't worry. I'm not dead. Yet."

Alan clapped him on the shoulder. "You're done fighting. From here on out, I'll be the one rescuing my sister."

Francis opened his mouth to protest, but when he met Alan's unshakable gaze, he could only shrug with a wry smile. "Alright, alright. You're the strongest guy in the academy. You win."

Alan chuckled softly and said nothing more.

He eased Francis down beneath a tree, then turned toward the sky, intent on demanding an explanation from the figure who had just launched a surprise attack on his friend.

But just as he was about to step forward, Francis whispered behind him, "Don't be careless. That guy… he's not normal."

Alan nodded subtly.

Then, without warning, he raised his middle finger toward the man in the sky—a bold provocation.

The stranger clearly understood the gesture.

His smile faded.

Mana suddenly erupted from behind him, like a volley of arrows, blasting toward the ground with terrifying momentum—each strand of mana a spear aiming straight for Alan.

"This guy… is strong."

Even before the fight began, Alan could already gauge his strength based on the sheer amount of mana being released.

It surpassed anything he'd seen from the previous bounty hunters.

Alan's [Battle Spirit] surged to life.

Instantly, leaves rustled without wind. Fallen debris scattered violently in all directions.

The two hadn't even physically clashed yet, but the air between them was already a battlefield, charged with mana overpressure and killing intent.

This… was how battles between top-tier mages were fought.

Physical combat was for amateurs. True masters dueled with presence, will, and overpressure. A single movement—or even a glance—could determine the outcome.

Because among the elite, most could intuitively sense whether their opponent's power eclipsed their own.

Whoooosh!

The closer the stranger got, the more intense the surrounding pressure became.

The ground trembled under the weight of clashing auras. Mana waves exploded outward, forming a vortex of leaves swirling violently between the two.

Then—using that vortex as cover—the stranger made his move.

With an explosive burst of speed, he unleashed a devastating roundhouse kick, aimed directly at Alan's midsection.

The power behind the kick was monstrous. The air behind his leg distorted, the atmosphere itself groaning under the pressure.

Alan was just about to counter when—

Lumen Sancta moved first.

The sacred staff wriggled free of Alan's grip and surged forward at a speed that defied human perception.

In a flash, it intercepted the enemy midair. The blade gleamed, erupting in a burst of searing light.

BOOM!

The blinding radiance enveloped the attacker.

The resulting mana shockwave cracked the air like thunder, and even Alan was forced to step back several paces to maintain his footing.

The stranger didn't fare much better.

Lumen Sancta's holy strike sent him hurtling backward, tumbling through the air before regaining control.

His smirk had vanished, replaced by a grim expression.

Meanwhile, Francis—seated beneath the tree—had no intention of following Alan's order to sit still.

He looked up at the treetop where Isabella remained bound tightly by vines, her unconscious form suspended like a rag doll.

A pang of guilt pierced his chest.

"Hold on, girl. I'm coming," he murmured.

Gritting his teeth, Francis forced himself upright.

His body screamed in protest, every nerve aflame with pain, but he climbed.

Fortunately, he had saved a small reserve of emergency mana—just enough to lighten his weight for a short time. Without it, there was no way a grown man in his condition could scale such a towering tree.

But halfway up, he felt a sudden chill on the back of his neck.

Something was coming. Fast.

Without thinking, Francis jerked his head to the side—just in time.

Thunk!

A single withered yellow leaf embedded itself in the trunk, mere centimeters from his ear.

It was sharp—unnaturally sharp—and buried deep into the bark like a thrown dagger.

That was no accident.

"That was… deliberate," Francis whispered, his pulse spiking.

"There's another enemy out there."

He scanned the surroundings, but his senses picked up only two mana signatures—Alan's, and the mysterious assailant he was battling.

Whoever launched that attack… was completely hidden.

But just because he couldn't sense them didn't mean they weren't there.

Francis yanked the leaf free and tossed it to the ground, his sixth sense now screaming at him.

There was another hunter. One waiting in the shadows. One who had not yet revealed themselves.

And right now… Francis was stuck.

He was halfway up the tree—exposed.

If he went back down, he'd waste the mana he'd just used to climb.

But if he went higher, there was no guarantee he could protect himself or Isabella against a hidden enemy's ambush.

He was, quite literally, trapped between two choices.

And neither was good.

Francis gritted his teeth, muttering under his breath, "Damn it, Fort! You stick to me like glue every day, but now? Now, when it actually matters—you vanish?"

"I told you to stay with Alan so he wouldn't lose his mind… And now Alan's here, but you're not!"

"What happened? Did that illiterate muscle-head fail to read the map Gayle gave us?!"