The God-Tier Conqueror System

The rain in Blackridge City never fell gently.

It came down in sheets, thick and cold, the kind that soaked through your clothes in seconds and made the streetlights shimmer in puddles. Ethan Cross hunched his shoulders against the downpour, one hand gripping the strap of his food delivery bag and the other adjusting the broken zipper on his thin jacket.

Another night. Another delivery. Another reminder that life had me by the throat.

The tall glass building loomed ahead  a luxury apartment tower, its lobby glowing warm and golden through the storm. Ethan pushed through the revolving doors, dripping water onto the marble floor. The doorman didn’t even look at him. Delivery guys were invisible here, just part of the furniture.

He hit the elevator button and glanced at the order details on his phone.

Name: Lance Stone.

Special Instructions: “Don’t be late.”

It was marked with a priority tag meaning if he arrived a minute late, the customer could dock his pay.

The elevator stopped at the 45th floor. The carpet was so plush it swallowed his footsteps. Ethan knocked on the black double doors.

They swung open to reveal a man in his early thirties, tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a silk robe loosely tied around his waist. A half-empty glass of whiskey dangled from his hand, and his smirk was the kind that said he’d never known a bad day in his life.

“You’re late,” Lance drawled.

Ethan checked his phone. “It’s… exactly on time, sir.”

The man took the bag, opened the container, and sniffed. “Cold. Do you deliver like this to all your customers?”

“It was raining”

“Not my problem.” Lance reached into his robe pocket, pulled out a crisp $100 bill… and then deliberately dropped it into the puddle of rainwater at Ethan’s feet. “Go on. You want it, pick it up.”

Ethan’s jaw tightened. Every part of him wanted to tell this guy to shove it. But rent was due. His mother’s medical bills were still unpaid. He knelt, fingers curling around the wet bill.

Behind Lance, laughter rang out. Two women in tight dresses leaned over the back of a leather couch, watching the scene like it was a cheap comedy show. One of them whispered something, and they both giggled.

Ethan stood, shoved the bill in his pocket, and walked away without another word.

The storm followed him home, even after the rain stopped. His apartment was a one-bedroom shoebox in a crumbling brick building. The hallway smelled of mildew and stale cigarette smoke. He unlocked the door quietly, maybe Sarah’s asleep.

The bedroom light was on. He stepped inside… and froze.

Sarah was in bed. Not alone.

His best friend, Kyle, was on top of her, shirtless, grinning  until he saw Ethan in the doorway.

The room went silent except for the pounding in Ethan’s ears. Sarah sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest. “Ethan, it’s not”

“It’s exactly what it looks like,” Kyle cut in, smirking. “Face it, man, you’ve been holding her back. She deserves better.”

Ethan’s hands curled into fists. “Get out. Both of you.”

Kyle grabbed his shirt and pulled it on. “Whatever you say, delivery boy.”

They left together, Sarah not even meeting his eyes.

The next morning, the call came. His manager’s voice was cold.

“Ethan, we’ve had a complaint from Mr. Stone last night. You’re done here. Come pick up your final paycheck.”

By noon, Ethan was out of a job, out of a girlfriend, and out of options. He left the delivery company’s office with an envelope in his hand and a knot in his chest.

The sky was still overcast when he cut through a narrow alley toward the bus stop. That was when he heard muffled grunts, the scrape of shoes on wet pavement.

Two men in hoodies had an old man cornered, one gripping his collar while the other rifled through his pockets. The old man’s white hair was plastered to his head from the drizzle.

“Let him go!” Ethan’s voice came out sharper than he expected.

One thug turned, sneering. “Walk away, hero.”

Ethan didn’t. He lunged, grabbing the nearest guy by the arm and yanking him back. A fist caught him in the ribs, knocking the wind from his lungs. Another blow sent him staggering.

But he didn’t stop until the old man stumbled free.

A flash of metal  and white-hot pain exploded in Ethan’s side. He looked down to see the knife pulling away, red blooming across his shirt. The muggers fled, vanishing into the rain.

Ethan collapsed to his knees. The old man caught him, surprisingly strong for his frail frame. His pale eyes locked onto Ethan’s, and his voice was calm despite the chaos.

“You… are chosen,” he whispered, pressing two fingers to Ethan’s forehead.

A sudden heat surged through Ethan’s skull, and the world blurred.

When his vision cleared, Ethan was lying on the wet ground alone. But something was wrong  or maybe too right.

A translucent blue screen floated in the air above him, impossible, unreal.

[SYSTEM INITIALIZING…]

Welcome, Ethan Cross.

The Conqueror System has chosen you.

Text scrolled across the glowing panel:

[First Mission Assigned]

Objective: Win the heart of a woman you’ve never met before within 24 hours.

Reward: $10,000 cash + Permanent Charm Increase (+30%).

Penalty for Failure: Immediate Termination (Death).

The screen pulsed red.

Timer: 23:59:57…

Ethan’s breath caught. “What the hell…”

A drop of rain hit his cheek. Somewhere far off, thunder rumbled.

The clock was already ticking.