God Simulator: The Goddesses In The Simulation Are All Real

In the blink of an eye, Linsley teleported to a branch of the Gale Foundation—the kind that concealed its dark side, notorious for experimenting on orphans and other trafficked people.

He'd deliberately avoided any branches untainted by these sinister dealings; there was no reason to harm the innocent caught under the same name.

As for why he hadn't yet stormed the Gale Foundation's main headquarters? Linsley was saving the best for last.

The Gale Overlord, the man behind it all, would undoubtedly be stationed there, making it the ultimate battleground for their final confrontation.

Hovering high in the sky, Linsley surveyed the branch below with an indifferent gaze.

The building looked ordinary enough from above, its lights glowing dimly against the darkening sky. But he knew what lay within—layers of hidden corridors, laboratories, and cells where countless innocents had been trapped and violated.

With a wave of his hand, a golden AWM sniper rifle materialized in Linsley's right hand, its polished barrel gleaming under the dark sky.

He held it with a steady grip, looking through the scope as he zeroed in on the Gale Foundation's branch below.

"Unlimited Gun Works!"

At his command, a dazzling arsenal appeared in the air around him—bazookas, grenade launchers, RPGs, and machine guns, all hovering in formation with barrels aimed precisely at the building. Each weapon glowed with an ethereal, golden hue.

Linsley squinted through the sniper scope, then called out, "Lock On!"

His Real Fantasy gift activated, transforming his aiming into something akin to a game's aimbot. His scope highlighted every target within, distinguishing those involved in the Foundation's twisted experiments.

"Specified Aim: Evildoers!"

Linsley commanded, programming his weapons to lock onto only those complicit in the Gale Foundation's dark experiments. These individuals—every scientist, guard, and conspirator involved—would be killed upon impact.

"Damage Avoidance: Innocent!" he continued, ensuring that anyone uninvolved in the organization's crimes, whether victims or unaware employees, would be completely spared from harm.

"Judgment: Those Within Salvation!"

For anyone morally in-between—those who may have known but not acted—Linsley added a final safeguard.

This effect would either knock them unconscious or teleport them to the Sinclair Order's Island, where they'd be placed directly into holding cells, awaiting a verdict from the Holy Spirit of Judgment.

With these layers in place, each weapon became a precise tool: a missile of judgment, sparing the innocent, destroying the guilty, and capturing those in the moral gray area.

Confident in his preparations, Linsley hardened his gaze on the building below, and with a single shout, commanded, "Fire!"

The sky ignited with golden bullets and missiles, each projectile racing toward its target with deadly precision.

Explosions rocked the branch of the Gale Foundation, bringing destruction to the corrupt while leaving the innocent untouched.

The dust settled, revealing a massive crater where the Gale Foundation branch had once stood.

At the center of the destruction, however, stood untouched survivors: children who had been experimented on, trafficked people, and innocents who had unknowingly worked for the foundation.

Despite the chaos surrounding them, each one was completely unharmed, shielded by Linsley's precision.

As the innocents began to regain their bearings, voices in the distance signaled the arrival of reinforcements.

Local royalties and nobles who had witnessed the golden arsenal in the sky had already deemed the situation too far beyond their ability to control.

Instead of confronting Linsley, they summoned the Overlord assigned to this region—a Level 9.2 Overlord and enforcer of the Gale Continent's hierarchy.

A sudden rush of powerful flux pressure filled the air, as a middle-aged man appeared above the ruined landscape. His figure radiated authority and control, his brow furrowed as he took in the scene of devastation, his gaze quickly locking onto Linsley.

Linsley, still hovering with his golden arsenal, had reduced his displayed flux pressure to that of a Level 9.1 Overlord, just enough to seem formidable but not enough to reveal his true strength.

The regional Overlord scoffed, clearly unimpressed. "Is this your idea of conquest?" he sneered, eyeing Linsley with disdain. "For all your flashy displays, you're still a mere Level 9.1. You've overestimated your importance."

Linsley's smirk grew as he watched the Overlord's arrogance seep into every word. He hadn't raised his flux pressure intentionally; after all, he preferred letting his enemies walk right into his trap, thinking they held the advantage.

"Perhaps you'll find that assumptions can be… fatal."

Linsley murmured, his eyes gleaming with a hint of amusement as he waited for the Overlord's inevitable approach.

The Overlord chuckled, his face smug as he looked down on Linsley, as if the fight had already been decided.

"You talk big, but you've fallen right into my trap," he sneered, his voice dripping with condescension. "My gift lets me take control of anyone who responds to me—anyone below Level 9.6, that is. Even a Level 9.5 Overlord is no match. You're nothing more than my puppet now."

His eyes gleamed with self-satisfaction as he raised his hand, fingers curled in a mockery of a command. "Now listen to your master," he intoned, his voice filled with twisted glee. "Commit suicide!"

He waited, expecting immediate compliance, but instead of submission, he was met with Linsley's steady, unimpressed stare, a faint smirk tugging at the edge of Linsley's lips as he regarded the Overlord like a naive child.

Linsley raised his golden sniper rifle, his finger resting lightly on the trigger as he took aim at the arrogant Overlord before him.

"You thought I'd be so easily controlled," he murmured, barely audible, a trace of amusement flickering in his gaze.

With his Real Fantasy gift, he infused the bullet with the Overlord's own power of control—but with a distinct twist. No verbal response would be required to enslave this one; he would only need to land the shot.

The Overlord, still smirking with confidence, had no time to react. A single shot rang out, the bullet hitting its mark dead center.

In an instant, the Overlord's expression shifted from smugness to horror, his body frozen as Linsley's own version of control seized him completely.