Imprisoned for a Trillion Years, I Was Worshipped by All Gods!-Chapter 662 - 218-rother and Sister Part Ways

"Brother..."

As Isabella watched the hot tears slide down Alan's cheeks, dripping silently to the ground, her voice caught in her throat.

"Brother... I know you've always done everything for me. I know you'd stake your life just to keep me safe."

"But... have you ever thought—is that really what I want to see?"

"Just like you don't want me to suffer, as your sister, do you think I'm not terrified every time you go off to fight? Every night, I kneel beside the bed and pray... pray to some god I've never seen, never touched... begging them to protect you and bring you back safely..."

"So please... let me go, Brother. I don't want to keep dragging you down, or be used by bad people as leverage against you."

"I want to become the strongest mage—strong enough to make every mage in the world fear me. That way, no one will dare bully me again, and no one will ever come after you."

"Isabella..." Alan took two steps forward and dropped to one knee before her, lifting a hand to gently stroke the top of her head.

"You've grown up. You're no longer that frail little girl you once were."

"Uwahhh... Brother..." Isabella could no longer hold back. She threw herself into Alan's arms, weeping uncontrollably.

Alan wrapped his arms tightly around her. The siblings clung to each other, and the love that had quietly accumulated between them over more than a decade finally burst forth in that moment.

No one else spoke. None dared to interrupt this poignant farewell.

Even the air around them seemed to fall still, as though time itself had halted.

After what felt like ages, the little girl with the parasol gave it a twirl and lightly cleared her throat. "Time's up."

Alan stood up at last, gently leading Isabella by the hand toward the girl.

His eyes still shimmered with wary caution.

"You won't hurt her, will you?"

The little girl gave him a look—as if he were the world's biggest idiot. "If I wanted to hurt her, I wouldn't have given you that Spirit of Fire the other day. What, do you think Spirit of Fire is some trinket you can pick up at a roadside stall?"

"I'll give it to you straight: using the Spirit of Fire to neutralize her excess internal frost is only a temporary solution—it treats the symptoms, not the root cause. If you want to cure Isabella, she needs to come with me to the Church."

"I dote on her. I wouldn't hurt her even if I wanted to."

Alan was surprised by the girl's sincerity. But being ever perceptive, he caught something odd in her words.

"Wait... you just said 'the Church'? Are you with the Church?"

The girl smiled cryptically.

"Well, that depends. You do know there's more than one Church in this world, right? It's not all about the so-called 'Church of Steam and Magic.' Right, little Isha?"

She winked at Isabella.

Isabella averted her eyes, guilty.

The truth was, she hadn't told Alan anything. Not about being the host of the Primal Spirit of Frost. Not about the day she'd been approached by a mysterious girl in a black dress and invited to join the Frost Sanctum.

Just then, someone else appeared—Old Gayle, the headmaster who had supposedly left, now back again.

He took in the scene before him and quickly pieced together what was happening.

He stepped forward and patted Alan's shoulder.

"Don't worry. Given Isabella's condition, going to the Frost Sanctum will do her far more good than harm. Let her go."

"Frost... Sanctum?" Alan repeated, frowning at the unfamiliar name. But he quickly realized—that must be the 'Church' the girl mentioned. And she must be a member.

"Well, if even Headmaster says so..." Alan finally relented, accepting the outstretched olive branch. He waved at Isabella with a forced smile.

"If you really want to go... then go. I won't stop you."

"Mm!" Isabella nodded resolutely, gently pulling her hand from Alan's and walking to stand beside the mysterious girl.

Alan, oddly, felt a strange sense of relief as he watched her take that step.

In that moment, his heart was filled with the complicated emotions of a father watching his daughter become independent for the first time.

And it was likely those same feelings that made him call out instinctively, "Um... my sister's a bit shy. She's easily bullied. So when she gets to the Frost Sanctum, you—uh—I mean, Your Excellency—could you maybe look after her a bit more?"

"Tch." The girl turned her back, annoyed, and waved dismissively.

"Do I need you to remind me? Once she's at Frost Sanctum, she'll be the one bullying others. No one will dare touch her."

"Wait!"

Just as the girl was about to leave with Isabella, Alan felt a sudden stab of pain in his chest.

He shouted again. "Isabella! When you get to the Sanctum, remember to take care of yourself. Speak up more, don't be so timid. If anyone bullies you, go straight to her and complain. And if she doesn't help you—then come back to the capital and find me. Your brother will always stand up for you!"

"Mm!" Isabella's eyes sparkled with tears. No matter where she went, no matter how much time passed—her brother would always be the most dependable person in her life.

"Are you done now?" The girl sighed as the crimson teleportation array began to spread beneath her feet. But sure enough—just before she stepped onto it, Alan's voice rang out again.

"Wait! One more thing!"

Before she could explode in frustration, Alan rushed forward, holding a small, dirty satchel in his hands. He thrust it into Isabella's arms.

"This is a magic pouch. Keep it with you for storage. Inside, there are potions I made, magical tools, some enchanted gear—"

Before he could finish, the little girl swatted the pouch to the ground, clearly annoyed at Alan's repeated interruptions.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Alan exclaimed, heart aching as he saw the pouch fall.

The girl snorted. "Only a backwater bumpkin like you would treat that junk like treasure. Honestly."

"Junk?!" Alan's face flushed with offense.

Those were his hard-earned spoils—gathered at great risk, often in life-or-death battles. How could she call them trash?

Old Gayle interjected just then. "Let it go, Alan. Keep that magic pouch for yourself. Don't give it to Isabella."

"Why?" Alan turned to his headmaster, baffled.

Rubbing his temples, Old Gayle sighed. "How should I put it... Let's just say, the Frost Sanctum is very wealthy. The stuff in that pouch? Even something ten times better would be considered scrap over there."

"Huh?" Alan was stunned.

Tier-gold gear... considered scrap?

Just how powerful was this so-called Frost Sanctum?

After a moment's pause, Alan knelt down, scooped up a handful of dirt, and began shaping it with his water and fire elements. He fashioned a chibi-style clay doll and gently placed it into Isabella's hands.

"If you don't want the pouch... then this will do."