Cronus' system: Against the gods

Rex's eyes fluttered open, heavy with exhaustion. For a few seconds, his vision swam in darkness, shapes and colors blurring together like an unfinished painting. His body felt like it had been crushed under a mountain, every muscle screaming in protest at the mere act of waking.

Distant voices drifted toward him, muffled at first, like whispers through water. One of them was instantly recognizable, Jefferson's calm, measured tone...but the second voice was unfamiliar, smooth yet laced with an underlying authority.

"Finally, thou art awake from thy five-day slumber."

The voice of Cronus slithered into his mind like a phantom, carrying an amused lilt.

Rex's heart slammed against his ribs. "Five days?!" His mind reeled, panic clawing its way through him.

With an abrupt jolt, he tried to sit up, only for agony to explode through his body like wildfire. "Arrkk!!" The cry tore from his throat, raw and instinctive. His limbs felt like lead, every fiber of his being aching as if he had fought a war against the gods themselves.

"Thou art in great distress. Cease this foolishness and rest, lest thou prolong thy suffering."

Cronus' words, usually smug and domineering, held a rare softness. Not sympathy, no, Cronus was too ancient, too calculating for that but a firm warning laced with something that almost resembled concern.

Rex groaned and let his head fall back onto the pillow, beads of sweat trailing down his temple. His breathing came in shallow, ragged pulls. He still had no idea where he was, but there was no sense of immediate danger. And if Jefferson was here… well, at the very least, he wasn't dead.

He turned his head sluggishly toward the voices. His vision, still hazy, sharpened enough to make out two figures seated at a table a short distance away.

Jefferson, ever the embodiment of steel-hearted stoicism, sat across from a man clad in a sleek black tuxedo. The contrast between them was stark. Jefferson was a soldier, a warrior carved from battle-hardened discipline, while the other man radiated the effortless confidence of a seasoned diplomat.

The tuxedoed man leaned back in his chair, twirling a pen between his fingers, the glint of its gold tip catching the dim overhead light. His posture was relaxed, his tone casual, but there was an unmistakable weight behind his words.

"You really think the boy has what it takes?"

Rex strained to listen, his breath hitching as Jefferson answered.

"Yes, he does. But with his current capabilities, he'll only be assigned minor missions, nothing serious."

The man hummed in response, nodding as he scribbled something in a leather-bound book. "Well, you're the boss. I have no say in what you decide. But you do realize that if that boy dies on any mission, the Academy will hold you personally responsible."

Jefferson smirked. "He won't die." A shadow of amusement flickered in his cyber-blue eyes. "He has the tenacity of a roach."

Something cold settled in Rex's stomach. It was true, he had survived impossible odds before, but hearing Jefferson compare him to a cockroach didn't exactly boost his confidence.

Jefferson's head turned slightly, and for the first time, their eyes met. His gaze was sharp, analytical but for the briefest second, Rex thought he saw something else beneath the surface. Not concern, not relief, but… recognition. As if Jefferson had expected him to wake up at this exact moment.

The tuxedoed man tapped his pen against the table, drawing Jefferson's attention back.

"Not just the Academy, Jeff. The Council will see this as an opportunity to finally get rid of you."

A stillness settled over the room, as if the very air had been sucked out.

Jefferson's smirk vanished. His eyes darkened, his body turning rigid like a coiled spring. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, but each word carried the weight of unshakable resolve.

"Let them come."

There was no bravado in his tone. No arrogance. Just an undeniable certainty, as if he had already seen the battle play out in his mind and had come to the conclusion that, no matter the outcome, he would not fall.

With that, he turned away from the tuxedoed man without another glance, striding toward Rex's bedside with an air of finality.

As soon as Rex saw Jefferson approaching, he instantly put on a curious face as he asked, looking around him "Where the hell am I?" He hadn't noticed it now but this place reeked of high-tech shit! The whole ceiling and grounds were made of gold.

Even the drones flying in the air were all made of gold. Rex couldn't help but wonder if the owner of this building was King Midas. Heck! All the way to the doors and chairs and plates.....all gold!! This person needs to be sued for having an unhealthy obsession with gold!

Was he compensating for something? Rex had seen some rich folks flaunt their wealth, but this was on a whole other level. Even the damn toilet seats he could see had a golden glow!

Rex dramatically shielded his eyes. "I swear, if I see a golden toothbrush, I'm calling the authorities! This ain't wealth, this is a cry for help!"

"Bro, even the air feels expensive! If I breathe too hard, will I get billed?"

He turned to Jefferson, shaking his head. "I bet even the cockroaches here are golden. Rich-ass bugs probably have better living conditions than me!"

Without missing a beat, Jefferson replied in his usual deadpan tone, "Of course they are."

Rex blinked, his lips parting slightly. "...You couldn't have found a better way to phrase that, huh?" He sighed, rubbing his temples before fixing Jefferson with a pointed look. "But seriously, where am I?"

Jefferson exhaled as if he had been expecting this entire outburst. Then, with a patience only he could muster, he answered, "You're in God Tower."

"What in the actual fu—!"

Rex shot up so fast that pain whiplashed through his body. He clutched his side, wincing, but the shock was too overwhelming to care. His mouth fell open in pure disbelief.

"God Tower?! Are you kidding me?!" His mind raced. The God Tower?! The place known for housing some of the most powerful, influential figures? The same God Tower where people vanished for so much as breathing the wrong way?

His last memory was of them being on the roof. Now, suddenly, they were inside?

"Why?! How?! I've always heard the Tower doesn't tolerate shit! How the hell are you even standing here, giving orders?!"

Jefferson met his wide-eyed stare with complete calm. "To be blunt, I'm the head of God Tower."

The silence that followed could've swallowed a planet.

Rex's brain short-circuited. His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. Then, with absolutely zero grace, he almost fell off the bed.

"WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FU—?!" His voice cracked as he pointed at Jefferson like he had just declared himself the king of Mars. "You're… you're…" He sputtered, his arms flailing.

"You're the freaking head of God Tower?!"

His entire worldview tilted. It was like finding out your local gym coach was secretly the emperor of the universe.

Jefferson simply nodded, unfazed.

Rex stared at him, his brain still lagging. Finally, he did the only logical thing he could.

He flopped back onto the golden bed, staring at the ceiling in defeat.

"I need to lie down."

Jefferson, already expecting his reaction, continued speaking. "As you might already know, God Tower isn't for just anyone. Every single one of its members is at least Expert level or higher. Trainees, on the other hand, are usually at the Advanced level."

Rex propped himself up on one elbow, still trying to wrap his head around everything. "Of course!" He nodded as if that was supposed to make sense, though his mind was still reeling from the bomb Jefferson had just dropped on him.

Jefferson folded his arms. "There's a reason for this high standard. The Tower's objective is simple—to eliminate all extraterrestrial threats to humanity." His tone was calm, but there was an edge of finality to it.

Rex blinked. "...And by that, I'm guessing you mean the Gods. Or god-maniacs like Lucius."

Jefferson nodded. "Exactly. That's why we don't tolerate weakness. We need the best of the best."

There was something unsettling about the way he said it. Rex had always known God Tower was filled with monsters in human form, but hearing it directly from the head of the Tower was different.

Jefferson continued, his voice steady but firm. "And now, you are officially one of its trainees."

Rex felt something cold settle in his gut. "Wait—hold up. You mean I'm in this crazy cult of god-killers now?!"

Jefferson shot him a deadpan look. "It's not a cult. It's an organization."

Rex scoffed. "Yeah, yeah, that's exactly what a cult leader would say."

Jefferson ignored the comment. "As a trainee, your capabilities will determine your standing. There will be an examination to place you in the hierarchy among the other recruits."

Rex frowned. "An exam? Like, multiple choice? Essay questions? Can I cheat?"

Jefferson's expression remained impassive. "It's a live combat assessment. You'll be ranked based on performance, and those ranks determine the missions you'll be assigned. Higher-ranked trainees get higher-priority, more dangerous assignments."

Rex groaned, rubbing his temples. "So this is like… Hunters? The higher my rank, the more insane the jobs?"

Jefferson nodded. "Exactly."

Rex exhaled. "Great. Love that for me."

Before he could protest further, a faint hiss echoed through the room.

Rex immediately tensed, his senses sharpening. The walls around him flickered—golden panels shifting, retracting like pieces of an elaborate machine. A low mechanical hum filled the space.

Something was happening.

Rex's eyes darted around. "Uh, Jeff? What the hell is—"

Suddenly, a panel beneath him opened.

Metallic arms shot out, moving too fast for him to react. Before he could struggle, they latched onto him. Cold, sleek machinery wrapped around his limbs, coiling around his chest, his legs—shifting.

A sudden whoosh of air surrounded him, and Rex barely had time to process what was happening before his old clothes were ripped away.

"OI! AT LEAST BUY ME DINNER FIRST!"

The machine didn't care.

In seconds, a high-tech battle suit was seamlessly constructed over his body, piece by piece. The armor locked into place with a satisfying click-click-click, adjusting perfectly to his frame. The material was sleek but durable, lightweight yet exuding a sense of raw power. Within a second, his pain was gone

Dark metal intertwined with luminescent energy lines, pulsing faintly beneath the surface like veins of liquid fire. The gauntlets hummed, feeling weightless yet dangerous.

He whistled. "Damn…this is crazy!

But before he could admire himself further..

The world around him shifted.

The golden surroundings disappeared in an instant, replaced by a vast, dome-like arena. The air crackled with unseen energy, and the atmosphere itself felt charged with tension.

Rex's feet barely adjusted to the new terrain before he realized—

He was alone.

Jefferson now stood outside the dome, separated from him by an invisible barrier. His cold, unreadable gaze met Rex's as he took a step forward.

A slow smirk ghosted Jefferson's lips.

"Now your test continues."

Rex swallowed.

"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me." Continue your saga on My Virtual Library Empire