God Simulator: The Goddesses In The Simulation Are All Real

The door opened, and a Lieutenant Colonel in crisp attire stepped in, his posture respectful.

"General," he addressed, "Lieutenant Colonel Henderson reporting with a top-secret document requiring your immediate attention."

He held a sealed black folder marked with a red insignia, indicating its classified nature.

"Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel," Linsley replied, accepting the folder.

With a respectful nod, Henderson turned and exited, leaving Linsley alone with the document.

He regarded the folder thoughtfully. The cover was embossed with the Astral Dominion's emblem, a symbol of authority and secrecy, and it bore the words

TOP SECRET

in bold, uncompromising lettering across its face.

Discover hidden content at empire

The seal was tight, indicating that no one below a certain clearance level had laid eyes on its contents. Whatever lay inside, it demanded careful consideration.

As Linsley settled into his seat and unsealed the folder, lifting the cover to reveal the classified contents within, a moment of reflection crossed his mind.

It still felt strange, in a way, to be wearing the uniform of a three-star general. The secrets contained in these documents, the authority they represented—it all reminded him of the weight of the stars on his shoulder.

'A rank like this doesn't come easily,' he mused, glancing briefly at the stars embroidered on his uniform.

His rise had been remarkable by any standard, especially for someone his age.

Just a year ago, at nineteen, he'd been promoted directly to two-star general after revealing his Level 9.1 power—a rank typically reserved for veterans with decades of service.

But his swift, strategic response to the monster invasion had shifted perceptions. By minimizing casualties and showcasing exceptional strategy, he'd proven his capability beyond any doubt.

The reveal of his power advancing to Level 9.4 shortly after had caught the attention of the Dominion's higher-ups, cementing his reputation.

That had been enough to earn him his current rank, a three-star general. Some still viewed his promotion with curiosity, even caution, but his achievements couldn't be denied.

In the end, they'd made an exception, granting him full authority in his new role. His swift rise had raised a few eyebrows, but it was clear his skill and results had spoken for him.

'An exception, they called it,' he thought, scanning the document's opening lines. 'But they couldn't deny the results.'

Letting the thought pass, he honed his focus on the document, fully aware that his rank, however exceptional, came with high expectations and scrutiny.

This document, classified and layered with the weight of the Dominion's highest authorities, was a reminder of that responsibility.

Yet as he continued reading, the thought flickered back.

Responsibility was one thing; submission was another.

He knew he held the power to ignore these so-called superiors if he truly wanted to. If he chose to, he could stop playing by their rules and overturn the table with a single move.

This military role, after all, was just another simulation—a tool to reach his goals. The only reason he chose to go along with their orders was because it served his purpose.

Blending into their system kept his true power hidden, free from unnecessary attention, and allowed him to move without drawing suspicion.

If he ever found himself dealing with one of the higher-ups whose presence grated on him, he knew just how easily he could bend them to his will.

With his Veil of Invisibility (Gold), he could slip past any security, entering their office without a trace. And then, with his Real Fantasy gift, he could effortlessly make them submit, weaving a soul contract that bound them to his will.

These "superiors" wouldn't even know what had happened until they were signing over their loyalty, their very essence, to him.

But for now, it was wiser to keep those cards close, to play along with their hierarchy while he advanced toward his true objectives.

Linsley returned his attention to the document, noting the unsettling details laid out on the page.

The reports described an unusual sickness spreading in isolated cases, marked by pale, nearly colorless skin and severe mental instability, as if each patient's mind had fractured entirely. Some cases involved intense aggression and irrational behavior, leading the infected to attack others with a disturbing, almost feral hunger.

It didn't take long for him to spot the speculation notes: some experts suggested the virus might be influencing its hosts in ways that mimicked sentience, driving them to bite and spread the infection—an urge eerily reminiscent of the zombie outbreaks seen in films.

As he read further, he noted the military's response protocols. Patients had been confined to a secure quarantine facility, isolated from the general population.

The situation demanded extreme containment measures, with round-the-clock surveillance and a strict no-contact rule for anyone except authorized personnel.

His orders were clear: he was to visit this facility to observe the patients directly, assess the virus firsthand, and determine whether his so-called Unlimited Gun Works gift could neutralize the infection within their bodies.

The document contained a specific request for him to attempt to create a weapon capable of selectively targeting the virus itself.

So far, the Dominion's healers and specialized diviners had all failed to make any impact on the virus. His Unlimited Gun Works, however, was one of the few unique gifts they hadn't yet tested.

The military wanted to know if he could create a specialized weapon—a gun and bullet combination—that could penetrate the infected cells and destroy the virus without harming the host.

He chuckled dryly, muttering, "Bruh, what do they think I am? A doctor? Last I checked, that isn't in my job resume."

Inwardly, he mused over his Unlimited Gun Works gift. Though he'd only revealed it as a derivative of his true Real Fantasy gift, it was far from ordinary.

This particular gift allowed him to conceptualize and create any firearm he could imagine, with the same versatility for its ammunition.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

If he wanted a gun that could stop time with a single shot or one that could target intangible entities, he could craft it—assuming he had the flux to sustain it.

To the military, his gift seemed like a perfect tool for targeting the infection, as it could theoretically create a weapon fine-tuned to eliminate even a sentient virus.