Imprisoned for a Trillion Years, I Was Worshipped by All Gods! - Chapter 712 - Chapter268-The Spoils
The Archbishop and the Emperor were going back and forth, each presenting his opinion so confidently that Alan didn’t know whose words to follow.
Fortunately, after some negotiation, they ultimately agreed to adopt the Emperor’s proposal: Alan and Sirius Academy would take the lion’s share, while the Church and Royal Family would split the remainder.
The main reason for this generosity was the critical stage Sirius Academy was currently in—it needed urgent resources to rebuild. Had that not been the case, these two notoriously stingy old men would never have agreed so easily.
Daniel, for instance, was supporting an entire community of believers. As the Archbishop, he was responsible for putting food on their tables.
As for the Emperor, while it was true that the royal family was flush with wealth, who in the world ever complained about having too much money?
The three of them, still chatting and joking, made their way into the deepest section of the Lioncrest great hall. Based on the architecture and placement, this had to be the vault—the storage room containing the accumulated wealth of Lioncrest Academy over the course of several centuries.
“My god…”
“If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I would never have believed it…”
“This isn’t an academy’s vault. If I didn’t know better, I’d think someone moved the entire treasury of the Plantagenet Kingdom here. Don’t you agree, Emperor Denken?”
Francis turned a curious eye toward the Emperor.
Denken’s eyelid twitched slightly, though he quickly composed himself.
“Ahem! Young man, mind your words. The national treasury is on an entirely different scale. The total value of what you see here… well, at most, it might be one-tenth of the royal treasury. Roughly.”
“Still pretty incredible,” Francis sighed. “Unlike us… We’re still sleeping in tents, hunting wild animals in the woods just to survive. We’re basically living like cavemen.”
“Enough chatter. Come help!”
Alan’s voice echoed from within the vault. He called to his companions, who were still standing stunned at the entrance.
He understood their amazement—any ordinary person laying eyes on Lioncrest Academy’s treasury for the first time would react the same way.
Piles of magic equipment and tools at the gold and platinum level filled the chamber—far too many to count. Alan made a rough estimate and guessed there were at least fifty high-tier items, including even a few tier-diamond and Legendary artifacts. The sheer variety was astonishing.
As for universally accepted hard currency like mana stones, they literally blanketed the floor. Glittering mounds formed tiny translucent hills across the room. Alan didn’t even need to estimate this time—just one glance told him there were well over ten million mana stones here.
As for the miscellaneous items—skill scrolls, elemental spirits, and such—Alan didn’t even bother counting. They didn’t need all of them anyway.
He was about to go find the two elders to discuss how to divide the goods when he saw their faces and paused. Both of the sly old foxes were grinning from ear to ear.
The Emperor was pleased for good reason. After the capital’s destruction, rebuilding it would require vast resources, manpower, and—most critically—money.
In that sense, he and Alan stood on the same side.
But there was a difference. As the former Emperor of the Plantagenet Kingdom, Denken came from a vast and wealthy family. What’s more, the current monarch was not some lazy hedonist who squandered the kingdom’s riches. On the contrary, he was a responsible ruler.
Still, for the capital’s reconstruction, the royal family would have to contribute personally. The national treasury, after all, had to reserve nearly half its wealth in case of sudden war or emergency, especially given the politically unstable state of neighboring countries.
So even receiving just 30% of Lioncrest’s legacy was more than enough for Emperor Denken to lead the reconstruction effort himself. And once that was done, there’d likely still be plenty left over.
That leftover money? It would probably be funneled discreetly into his personal vault—crowned in gold and glorified as his “sacrifice” to rebuild the empire. A transfer from his left hand to his right.
Daniel, meanwhile, was even more excited than the Emperor.
Unlike some archbishops who attained their position through connections or favoritism, Daniel had clawed his way up from the lowest rank—a mere follower. Step by step, he climbed the ladder.
Because of that, he understood the true nature of the Church better than anyone.
Put bluntly, while the Church claimed to serve the suffering and preach divine love, it was, in practice, a highly efficient commercial enterprise. The faithful who came seeking help were often used as laborers, squeezed for every bit of economic value they could offer.
In short, the Church’s spiritual teachings all revolved around a single practical hub: the Exchange Hall.
That’s also why bishops who rose from the Exchange tended to be the most arrogant. Isaac, the one who had picked a fight earlier, was a textbook example.
Now, with Lioncrest’s wealth under his belt, Daniel could finally ensure his followers were fed. He could also report back to the Sacred Realm and the Pontiff Moses with tangible results. Add to that the merchant network he had negotiated with Alan earlier, and Daniel suddenly found himself swimming in achievements.
So much so, that a rather bold idea quietly formed in his mind:
If Moses can be Pontiff… why can’t I?
But the thought quickly faded.
As glorious as his achievements were, he wasn’t foolish. In a direct contest of strength, he couldn’t hope to defeat Moses.
Even a dying camel is bigger than a horse, as the saying went. If Moses could secure the highest position in the Church, then he was certainly no pushover.
As for Alan? He too was elated.
Rebuilding Sirius Academy wasn’t just about putting up new buildings. Mana stones, skills, equipment, and magical tools were equally vital.
The mages who would come to study at Sirius weren’t freeloaders. They needed training, mana channeling techniques, tools to commune with elemental spirits—all of which required resources.
Only now did Alan begin to grasp the pressure that came with being a headmaster.
He finally understood why old Gayle used to either be drinking or napping whenever he wasn’t fighting.
Turns out, being headmaster meant worrying about far more than just battles.
“Here—one for each of you. Take them.”
Emperor Denken stepped forward and handed two magical storage bags to Daniel and Alan.
“These things can store several hundred cubic meters of material. They’ll be more than enough to carry your share back.”
Alan blinked, stunned. He quickly bowed in gratitude. “Thank you, Your Majesty. This is incredibly generous of you—”
But Daniel cut him off, rolling his eyes.
“Kid, don’t bother thanking him. He’s got a dozen more of those lying around collecting dust. Normally he never gets to show off, so let him have his moment.”
“You old fraud, who are you calling a show-off?!”
“Hmph. Who do you think?”
“I’ll show you some royal language, you crusty old zealot—!”
Daniel wasn’t about to be outdone. He fired back with equal venom.
Alan chuckled awkwardly and backed away. He didn’t bother trying to stop the bickering. He turned instead and got to work, methodically gathering all the valuables he could find.
Now was not the time for words—it was time to reap what they had earned.
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