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

Seeing this, Alan quickly gathered up the remaining bit of black mud and hurriedly explained,

"Don't get mad yet. Let me show you a demonstration, and you'll understand what I mean."

As he spoke, the girl in the princess dress watched as Alan's hands moved so fast they left afterimages.

In just a few minutes, Alan had once again molded a lump of black clay.

But this time, the black lump actually had a nose, eyes, and features that vaguely resembled the princess-dress girl herself.

"See? If you rush to produce something, it ends up like this.

The form is incomplete, the meaning is unclear, and the surface is full of cracks... Huh? What are you doing?"

Before he could finish, the princess-dress girl suddenly snatched the black clay figure out of his hands and cradled it carefully, gazing at it as if it were a precious treasure.

Alan grew anxious — he was clearly trying to demonstrate a failed example!

Why was this girl treating a flawed piece so lovingly?

She really had no eye for art!

In an attempt to salvage some of his dignity, Alan reached out to grab the clay figure back.

However, the girl lifted her hand higher just in time.

As a result, Alan's hand easily slipped past her defenses and…

landed right on her chest, leaving a big, black palm print.

Both of them froze.

A faint blush rose on the girl's pale cheeks.

Alan, on the other hand, yanked his hand back as if burned and stammered,

"S-sorry! That was totally an accident!

I really didn't expect you to lift your hand like that!"

The girl looked a little upset, but she said nothing.

She simply fixed her hollow, pitch-black eyes firmly on Alan.

In that instant, Alan felt a sharp jolt in his mind.

It was as if all his senses had been severed.

For a brief moment, he couldn't even feel the existence of his own Origin mana.

The sensation lasted only a short while, but it was enough to make Alan take the princess-dress girl seriously.

From the start, he had never sensed even the slightest mana fluctuation from her.

Nor had any of the surrounding elemental energies shown any inclination to approach her.

All signs pointed to the conclusion that she wasn't a mage — just an ordinary person unable to manipulate mana at all.

Still, Alan knew better.

Plenty of powerful mages could perfectly conceal their strength.

Take Gayle, the headmaster of Sirius Academy, for example.

Before Gayle revealed his true ability, even Alan had thought the man was just a drunkard obsessed with wine.

Since he had only just met this girl, it wouldn't be appropriate to probe too aggressively.

After a moment's thought, Alan decided to try a subtler approach.

Half-jokingly, he asked,

"Did you just do something to me?

Why did I suddenly feel so dizzy?"

The girl remained expressionless, but her attitude had softened slightly.

At least her eerie black eyes were no longer locked onto him with such intensity.

"Tch… not falling for it, huh?" Alan muttered internally.

"Looks like I'll have to do this the hard way."

He gritted his teeth and decided to switch tactics.

In psychological games like this, there were usually two approaches:

one was to subtly probe the opponent, and the other was to display — or even exaggerate — one's own strength to intimidate them.

Alan chose the latter.

Feigning nonchalance, he summoned his sacred staff into his hand.

Then, after a deliberate cough, he said mysteriously,

"Do you know why I can sculpt clay so quickly?"

As he spoke, six shimmering lights slowly appeared behind him —

the pure energies of water, earth, wind, fire, light, and darkness.

The six fundamental elements.

Alan embedded each elemental light into the blade of his sacred staff.

Every time an element merged with it, a powerful mana fluctuation would ripple outward from Alan, rapidly spreading across the ruins.

Only after completing the dramatic display did Alan smile proudly and say,

"I'm a magus proficient in manipulating all six fundamental elements. Impressed?"

He expected the girl to be shocked, maybe even a little awestruck.

Instead, she just glanced at him like he was a fool… and yawned.

Alan immediately wished he could find a hole to crawl into.

Of course!

To a normal person who couldn't sense mana, all his flashy tricks were just meaningless lights and gestures.

It was like casting pearls before swine.

"Uh… I just remembered I have something urgent to do at home. Bye!"

Unable to bear the awkwardness, Alan turned and fled the ruins as fast as he could.

After he left, the princess-dress girl crouched down with a small, amused smile.

She tore apart the simple sketch she had made earlier — the one depicting a black unicorn.

The moment she shredded the paper, a thick black mist surged out of the torn drawing.

It quickly poured into the black unicorn sculpture that Alan had molded.

In an instant, the clay warhorse came to life,

its hooves striking the ground with deep, resonant thuds as it galloped around the girl in tight circles.

"Quiet, Richard, quiet..."

The girl waved her hand.

The black warhorse — no larger than her palm — immediately knelt obediently at her feet.

After a moment, the girl spoke softly,

"Has he gone far?"

The little black warhorse nodded.

The girl's expression grew grave.

"I didn't expect the Plantagenet Kingdom to be secretly cultivating a young magus.

What a blunder."

"Even with the Astrological Order's fabled Astrological Instrument, which is said to foresee the course of all things in this world,

neither I nor those old geezers in the Order could find the slightest information about that boy."

She clenched her fists unconsciously, her face darkening.

"Saintess…"

The little warhorse spoke timidly.

The girl ignored him for a moment,

her gaze drifting toward an empty patch of wall nearby.

In the pitch-black darkness, a faint figure gradually appeared.

It was blurry, indistinct — but it resembled Alan.

After a few seconds, the girl slowly closed her eyes.

The blurry figure faded away without a trace.

Just then, a tiny drop of mud slid down from the smudged fabric over her chest, landing lightly atop her shoe.

The girl's face flushed bright red again.

Seeing this, the little warhorse said hastily,

"That damned brat! How dare he offend the Saintess!

I'll go catch him right now and drag him back to apologize!"

With a whinny, the black unicorn lifted a hoof, ready to dash off.

But the girl picked him up effortlessly and said helplessly,

"Forget it."