God Simulator: The Goddesses In The Simulation Are All Real

Chapter 143: Twisted Hierarchy

As they hesitated, Linsley pointed his golden gun at them, releasing the flux pressure around them. "Bark, or I'll show you just how serious I am."

One by one, they let out half-hearted barks, the sounds echoing in the fast-food joint.

Linsley reveled in their humiliation, knowing that demonstrating his status not only secured his dominance but also sent a clear message.

Level 8 royals occupied the highest tier of the social hierarchy, typically achieved only by the most talented older men. Even the noble's grandfather was only at Level 8.4 and was nearing his death.

In contrast, a young man like Linsley was an anomaly, which made them wary of him. His youth suggested he came from an Overlord family—one that boasted a powerful lineage.

After all, only those associated with an Overlord could have a Level 8 royal at such a young age.

With Linsley claiming to have parents and grandparents stronger than himself, as well as a guardian beast of Overlord status, the nobles recognized that offending him would be a grave mistake.

Even the royals waiting in their exclusive line regarded Linsley with a mix of envy and awe.

In the Diviner World, where the social hierarchy was deeply corrupt, power came from either overwhelming strength or an impressive background.

With Linsley's true status as a Level 9.8 Overlord, he was like a fish in water within the corrupt social structure of the Diviner World. If he chose to follow the rules and maintain the status quo, he could avoid drawing too much attention from the higher-ups.

Linsley understood that if he played along with the social hierarchy, he could rise among the elites and look down on those beneath him.

But Linsley, fully aware of the looming threat of the Outer Gods, wasn't short-sighted enough to limit himself to the comforts of the Diviner World.

Linsley reveled in their humiliation. He knew that by forcing them into submission, he was not only securing his dominance but also sending a clear message to everyone in the establishment: power was everything in the Diviner World, and those who wielded it ruled.

Satisfied, Linsley finally lowered his golden gun, and with a simple flick of his fingers, the many guns hovering around the room disappeared.

The oppressive flux pressure lightened, allowing the nobles to breathe again.

"I don't expect you to stop bullying the wasteborn and inferiors," Linsley said flatly, "that's ingrained in this world's twisted hierarchy. But remember this day, and who stands above you. Next time, you won't get off with just barking."

With that, he turned his back on the groveling nobles, no longer interested in their fate.

They remained on their knees, their faces burning with shame, but none dared to make a move against him. The sheer disparity in power left them frozen.

The onlookers—nobles, inferiors, even some wasteborn—watched in silence, their expressions a mixture of awe and fear. Power was worshipped in the Diviner World, and Linsley had just made an unforgettable display of it.

Even some of the royalties in the exclusive line exchanged cautious glances, whispering among themselves. They now viewed Linsley with a new level of respect and wariness, fully understanding that he was not someone to be trifled with.

When the problem was resolved, Linsley didn't spare the nobles another glance.

He calmly walked to the front of the line and, with a casual wave of his hand, conjured a stack of Diviner Dollars—paper bills created through his Real Fantasy gift.

He handed them over to the cashier, paying for his meal as if nothing unusual had just occurred.

As he sat down to eat, his mind wandered back to the incident.

'This world sure is fucked.'