Cronus' system: Against the gods

Chairman Voss stormed into his grand study, the heavy oak doors slamming shut behind him with a resounding thud. The room was a testament to his towering ambition: walls lined with ancient tomes and priceless artifacts, each one a trophy of battles won, both in the boardroom and on the battlefield.

His usually unshakable composure was fractured. His sharp eyebrows twitched in frustration, yet the corners of his mouth curved ever so slightly upward. a rare, bittersweet expression. It mirrored the look he wore long ago when he seized control of the Wolf-Fang Guild, a victory stained with the blood of his father. That memory, buried deep within his ironclad heart, flickered now, unbidden. But this was no time for sentimentality.

The reasons for his turmoil were entirely different this time. The good news was intoxicating: the council had named him the new Principal of Astral City's Academy, granting him dominion over the heart of the city's future, its most promising youth. This wasn't just a ceremonial title. It was power.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

Real, tangible power that extended tendrils of influence even into the military. The Valenbrook family, those insufferable peacocks cloaked in silver and gold, would now have no choice but to lower their heads before him. A grin ghosted across his face at the thought.

But the bad news cut deep, stealing some of his triumph's luster. Austine Voss, his most talented disciple, a man whose potential Voss had carefully nurtured was dead. The report was both abrupt and enraging. Austine had been killed during a botched attempt to steal the Leviathan Crystal.. But there was more to the story, layers of deceit and conspiracy veiled behind the inner Council's cold, clinical statements.

Voss clenched his fists as the memory of their last conversation surfaced. Austine had been sent to deal with a seemingly trivial matter: Rex Xander. A boy marked by society as a failure, unworthy of the gifts of their world. By all accounts, Rex had failed his awakening but the late General Silas' reports told a different story. Somehow, the boy had awakened. Such aberrations were unacceptable, dangerous even, to the meticulously ordered hierarchy Voss sought to maintain.

And yet, Rex was a trivial concern for the moment. Voss exhaled sharply, forcing the irritation to the back of his mind. His new position afforded him the luxury of time. He could deal with the boy at his leisure, snuffing out his existence like one might a stray ember from a dying fire. No, his attention was needed elsewhere, on a far more immediate target.

The Valenbrook heir. The name alone sent a spark of anger coursing through his veins. That family had been a thorn in his side for too long, their arrogance and wealth shielding them from the consequences of their meddling. But now? Now he held the reins of the Academy, a position that would give him access to networks, resources, and leverage he'd only dreamed of before.

He approached the massive window behind his desk, the sprawling skyline of Astral City stretching out before him like a kingdom waiting to be conquered. Neon lights danced on the glass, their reflection casting jagged patterns over his sharp features. His lips curled into a wolfish smile, the weight of Austine's death momentarily eclipsed by the magnitude of his newfound authority.

"Enjoy your illusion of control, Valenbrook. Soon, even your precious clan will answer to me."

****************

Rex stuffed the last milk jar into his shopping cart, its frosty surface slick under his fingers. He adjusted the cart's angle, scanning the neatly arranged rows of products in the supermarket. Bright fluorescent lights cast a sterile glow on the aisles, and the faint hum of refrigeration units created a soothing backdrop.

"Crony, what about you? Do you need anything?" Rex chuckled softly, knowing full well how the ancient Titan within him would likely respond. He could practically feel Cronus rolling his eyes in the recesses of his mind.

"Yes, I do," Cronus replied, his voice cutting through the mundane atmosphere like a blade.

Rex nearly tripped over his own feet, startled. "You do? How're you planning to get it though?"

"I need you to grow stronger," Cronus said, his tone a mix of impatience and authority. "You must become a vessel worthy of my power. You need to grow faster!"

Rex paused in the middle of the aisle, frozen in place. The Titan's serious tone always had a way of rattling him. "Well..." Rex began, scratching the back of his head, "one thing's for sure. After my grand feast, I'm heading into Tartarus since I'm already past level 30."

Cronus exhaled, his voice softening just slightly. "I'm glad you understand your responsibilities."

Rex smirked, pushing the cart forward, the wheels squeaking faintly against the polished floor. His eyes landed on a box of cookies stacked neatly on the next shelf. A large, colorful label practically screamed, Limited Edition: Triple Chocolate Chunk!

"Now that," Rex muttered, reaching for the box, "I'm definitely not passing up—"

Pak! Pakk!!

The sudden, sharp sound echoed through the store, shattering the peaceful monotony.

"Give me all the money you've got!" a gruff voice roared.

Rex turned, his eyes narrowing as he spotted the commotion near the checkout counter. A hulking man stood there, his arms grotesquely enlarged, veins bulging unnaturally as he formed a fist that could easily crush a skull. His face was twisted in anger as he loomed over the frail-looking shopkeeper, whose weathered hands remained steady on the counter.

Despite the threat, the shopkeeper's expression was unsettlingly calm, almost... disinterested, as though he'd faced this scenario too many times to be rattled anymore.

"Hmm," Rex muttered, cracking his knuckles with a sly grin. "Guess I'll play hero today."

He took a step forward, his mind already spinning with the potential perks of his intervention. Maybe he'd get a discount for his trouble. Hell, maybe he'd get all his groceries for free. But before Rex could make another move, something stopped him dead in his tracks.

The frail shopkeeper was no longer frail.

With a subtle shift in the air, the shopkeeper's entire presence transformed. His eyes burned with an icy blue light, and the temperature in the store dropped sharply, frost creeping along the counter like an advancing tide.

In one fluid motion, the shopkeeper's leg lashed out, pinning the robber's head beneath his foot. The air crackled with the sound of ice forming as the man's grotesquely large hands froze solid, encased in jagged, unyielding shards.

"You picked the wrong shop today, dumbfuck," the shopkeeper growled, his voice like the edge of a glacier grinding against stone. He leaned down, his icy breath visible in the chilled air. "Now screw your ass outta here before I do it for you."

The robber, his eyes wide with terror, scrambled to his feet as the ice began to shatter, his massive hands returning to their normal size. Without a word, he bolted for the door, nearly slipping on the frost-covered floor.

The shopkeeper huffed, muttering something under his breath as he resumed his place behind the counter, casually adjusting his glasses like nothing had happened.

Rex blinked, his jaw slack as he tried to process what he'd just witnessed. What the hell? he thought, gripping the handle of his cart to steady himself. That frail-looking old man had just transformed into a god of ice!

Quickly, Rex activated God's Eyes, the familiar sensation washing over him as information flooded his vision:

Name: Oliver Jace

Age: 69

Race: Human

Class: Tier Two Advanced

Ability: Ice Manipulation

Strength: 305

Agility: 320

Endurance: 290

Intelligence: 350

Rex stared at the stats, his mind reeling. "Heck! This man is even stronger than me?!"

Rex swallowed hard, the sound loud in his ears. His mind raced as he watched Oliver Jace return to his counter. The old man hummed a cheery tune, his wrinkled face breaking into a kind, almost grandmotherly smile. The stark contrast between his recent god-like display and his current demeanor was so jarring that Rex felt a shiver crawl down his spine.

"Uh, excuse me, sir…" Rex ventured, his voice cracking slightly as he approached the counter.

Oliver looked up, his thick glasses sliding down his nose. "Oh, hello, young man! Did you find everything you needed? Oh dear, is that the Triple Chocolate Chunk you've got there? My granddaughter loves those!" He chuckled, his laugh a warm, wheezy sound that completely defied the icy menace from moments ago.

Rex froze mid-step, the box of cookies trembling in his hand. This guy has a granddaughter? What is she, a demigod of frost? He forced a shaky grin. "Y-yeah. They're, uh... pretty great. I think."

Oliver's kind smile widened. "Oh, they are, dear boy! Say, you look a little pale. Is everything alright?" His brow furrowed in concern, his voice dripping with grandfatherly warmth.

Rex's thoughts were a whirlwind of chaos. Am I alright? You just turned a guy into an ice sculpture and threatened to screw his ass! How am I supposed to be alright?!

"Fine! Totally fine," Rex blurted, waving a hand in a feeble attempt to appear nonchalant. "Just, uh, you know… cold in here. Real frosty."

Oliver chuckled, the sound like a friendly fireplace crackle. "Oh, I know, I know! These freezers can be such overachievers, can't they?" He gestured at the refrigerators behind Rex, as if that explained the sub-zero temperatures currently permeating the store.

Rex hesitated, torn between the urge to flee and his morbid curiosity. "Uh, listen… that thing back there, with the, um… robber..."

Oliver's face brightened with mock understanding. "Oh, that! Just a bit of excitement, wasn't it? Nothing to worry about, young man. These things happen."

"These things happen?" Rex repeated, his voice rising an octave. "You turned his hands into popsicles!"

Oliver's expression remained perfectly placid, but his eyes glimmered with something Rex couldn't quite place—mischief? Amusement? Or just the calm indifference of someone who knew they could freeze him solid on a whim.

"Sometimes, dear boy," Oliver said, reaching under the counter and pulling out a plastic bag for Rex's items, "you just have to handle things the old-fashioned way."

Rex stared at the man in disbelief. "You call that the old-fashioned way?"

Oliver's laugh echoed through the store. "Well, I suppose my methods are a little... unconventional. But we all do what we must, don't we?" He handed Rex the bag with a serene smile, the picture of harmlessness.

Rex glanced down at the bag, then back at Oliver. His instincts screamed at him to tread carefully. "Right. Totally get it. Unconventional. Makes sense."

Oliver leaned forward slightly, his grin widening as he whispered conspiratorially, "And between you and me, that brute's lucky I didn't turn him into an ice cube. I've been feeling a little merciful today."

Rex nodded so fast his neck cracked. "Got it. Merciful. Very generous of you."

Oliver straightened, patting the counter like an indulgent grandfather. "Good lad. Now, you run along and enjoy those cookies! And do stop by again, won't you? Always a pleasure to see a friendly face."

Rex backed away slowly, clutching the plastic bag to his chest like a shield. "Y-yeah. I'll, uh... I'll see you around."

As he turned to leave, Cronus's voice resonated in his mind, deadpan as ever. You're lucky he didn't turn you into a snowman.

"Shut up, Crony," Rex hissed under his breath, breaking into a brisk walk.

Rex had barely made it five steps past the automatic doors, already drafting his emotional support post for surviving the most terrifying grocery trip of his life, when a sudden, bone-chilling cold crept up his spine. It wasn't the frosty weather outside—it was something far deadlier. He froze, the hairs on the back of his neck standing straight.

Slowly, he turned around, dread pooling in his stomach like an ice block.

There, standing just outside the doors, was Oliver. The shopkeeper's kindly, wrinkled face was still adorned with that unnervingly pleasant smile. But in his hand, spinning with lethal precision, was a perfectly sculpted icicle. The sharp tip caught the light, glinting ominously as Oliver tilted his head.

"Kid," Oliver called, his tone as warm as hot cocoa on a winter's night, "you're gonna pay, aren't you?"

Rex felt his soul leave his body. Oh, sweet Cronus, how did I forget to pay?

"Damn it!" Rex muttered under his breath, gripping the bag of groceries tighter as if it might somehow shield him from what was coming. He plastered a sheepish grin on his face, raising his free hand in a surrendering gesture. "Haha! Of course! Of course, I'm gonna pay! Just, uh… testing if I still had everything on me. You know, safety first."

Oliver's smile didn't waver. If anything, it grew... friendlier. Too friendly. He gave the icicle a twirl, sending a faint, frosty mist swirling around him. "Safety first," he repeated, his voice dripping with saccharine sweetness. "Very responsible of you. Now, why don't you step back inside and handle that little detail?"