God Simulator: The Goddesses In The Simulation Are All Real

It wasn't the first time Linsley had seen the deep-rooted oppression of the wasteborn and inferiors, but it struck him how normalized this behavior had become.

It further solidified his resolve to let the Sinclair Order challenge and eventually change the status quo.

The social hierarchy ran deep in the Diviner World, and it was a system that needed more than a strong hand to overturn.

Through the Sinclair Order, Linsley would bring about that change, not just through sheer power, but by creating a belief system that transcended the corrupt values of this world.

His plan was already in motion, and the Sinclair Pantheon would become a beacon of hope for those oppressed by the rigid hierarchy of the Diviner World.

For now, though, he had other priorities—like finishing his meal.

He grabbed a handful of fries, enjoying the quiet, mundane moment of just being a customer at WcRonalds. As he munched on the last bit of his burger, he reached for the fries again, relishing their salty crunch.

Then, just as he was about to enjoy his final few bites, the entire building shook violently. The floor rumbled beneath him, and the windows clattered as if about to shatter.

A loud commotion erupted outside, followed by an earthquake that shook the entire building. Tables rattled violently, and the air filled with panicked screams, mostly from the wasteborn and inferiors, as they scrambled for cover.

Amid the chaos, Linsley remained unfazed, casually glancing down at the fries in his hand.

"Really?" he muttered, exasperated. "I can't even finish my damn fries?"

He sighed, taking one last fry and popping it into his mouth. Still chewing, he stood up, dusted his hands off, and casually walked toward the door.

The ground was still trembling, but Linsley remained unfazed. He pushed open the door with his free hand, stepping into the chaos outside.

As Linsley stepped onto the street, the overwhelming surge of flux hit him, a thick pressure much stronger than anything the average diviner could ever produce.

The air seemed to hum with raw power, heavy with tension. He glanced toward the source of the disturbance and sighed, still holding his fries.

Linsley glanced toward the source of the disturbance and muttered under his breath, "Couldn't they have waited five more minutes?"

Ahead, a battle between two figures unfolded with earth-shattering force.

On one side stood the villain—a towering man, his muscles bulging with every movement. He had wild, unkempt hair and wore tattered combat gear, his eyes glowing with manic energy.

This was a Level 7.2 diviner, wielding the destructive power of his S-rank Quake Impact gift. Every punch or kick he unleashed sent tremors rippling through the ground, causing quakes that shook buildings and shattered streets.

His opponent was a tall, clean-cut figure, dressed in a pristine white combat suit that glowed faintly with the emblem of justice.

The hero, a Level 7.4 diviner, wielded an SS-rank gift known as Negation.

Whenever the villain's quake attacks would hit, the hero merely touched the ground or caught the fist with a single hand, canceling the destructive force as if it were nothing but a weak punch.

The villain swung a devastating quake-infused punch, his fist tearing through the air toward the hero.

The ground shook violently as the impact caused massive tremors that cracked the streets and toppled buildings. Dust filled the air as debris rained down, crushing anything or anyone too slow to escape.

Wasteborn and inferiors screamed in terror, trapped under the rubble, while others were flung by the quakes. Yet, neither the villain nor the hero paid them any mind. Their focus was solely on each other, indifferent to the collateral damage.

As the quake reached the hero, he calmly raised his hand and touched the ground, immediately negating the tremor's effects.

Another punch came, but the hero caught it mid-air, canceling the quake with a simple touch. To him, it was as if the villain's attacks were just normal strikes—no quake, no power.

The two combatants continued their clash, each blow creating shockwaves that rocked the city. Buildings collapsed, and cracks spiderwebbed across the streets.

Linsley watched as more wasteborn and inferiors were buried under rubble, their cries for help drowned out by the sounds of the battle.

But the hero didn't even glance their way. For him and the villain, the only lives that mattered—the only ones worth acknowledging—were their own and those of the nobles and royalties who had already fled to safety.

Linsley stared at the devastation, his expression growing cold.

The corrupt nature of this world was in full display, where even the so-called heroes had little regard for the weaker classes.

Linsley stared at the devastation, his expression hardening as he watched the chaos unfold.

The so-called hero, for all his grandstanding, was no better than the villain. They both trampled over the weak, ignoring the destruction they caused and the lives lost beneath the rubble.

"The corrupt nature of this world..." Linsley muttered under his breath, shaking his head in disdain.

Even the "heroes" had little regard for the wasteborn and inferiors. To them, these people were merely collateral damage.

Deciding he'd seen enough, Linsley released a wave of flux pressure, the overwhelming force of a Level 9.1 Overlord radiating outward like a tidal wave.

The entire battlefield seemed to freeze as his power blanketed the area, causing both the villain and hero to pause mid-fight. Their eyes widened in shock, realizing the overwhelming presence that had just revealed itself.

Above the sky and behind Linsley, ten thousand guns of varying colors materialized, floating ominously as if awaiting his command.

"Unlimited Gun Works!" Linsley's voice thundered across the battlefield.

The air filled with the sound of firing guns. Volleys of bullets streaked through the sky, each one unique in color and purpose.

The first wave of bullets, glowing a fierce crimson, tore through the debris, obliterating the wreckage of fallen buildings and revealing the squashed and mangled corpses of wasteborn and inferiors beneath.

Some were nothing but splattered remains, while others clung to life, half-dead and missing limbs.

Then came another wave—bullets of a shimmering silver color that struck the corpses!