The Secretary's God-Tier Glitch

Chapter 7: Betrayal in the Boardroom

The office lobby was a war zone of shattered glass and swirling, unnatural gloom. Bimo scrambled over the reception desk, his dress shoes slipping on stray staples and toner dust. Arka was right behind him, his broadsword humming a low, threatening frequency that rattled the fluorescent lights.

"So," Bimo panted, ducking as a jagged shard of obsidian whistled past his ear. "I’m assuming the 'mandatory emergency meeting' invite I just got on my phone isn't about the Q4 sales goals?"

"Hardly," Arka spat, pivoting to deflect a volley of shadow-daggers with his blade. "Your boss is calling every cultist in the building to the boardroom. If you step in there, you’re not getting a performance review. You’re getting sacrificed."

"Sacrificed? For a mid-level manager role?" Bimo scrambled toward the stairwell, his heart hammering against his ribs. "That’s a hell of a way to trim the overhead."

"They don't want your budget reports, Bimo! They want the Gauntlet. You’re the battery, and they’re looking for a quick charge."

Bimo stopped, his hand hovering over the stairwell door. "Wait. If I’m a battery, can’t I just... I don't know, ground myself? Like a static discharge?"

"You’re not a wire, you idiot! You’re a reality anchor! And you’re currently leaking magic all over this floor!"

"I’m trying to keep it contained, but my stress levels are hitting an all-time high!" Bimo shoved the door open. "Let’s take the stairs. Maybe I can find a fuse box and just blow the whole building’s grid."

They burst into the stairwell, but the air suddenly turned frigid. The walls began to weep a thick, black ink. At the bottom of the landing, standing perfectly still, was Henderson. His skin looked like parchment paper stretched too thin over bone.

"Bimo," Henderson said, his voice a chorus of overlapping, distorted echoes. "The meeting has officially begun. You’re being very unprofessional."

"Henderson, look, we can talk about my leave of absence later," Bimo shouted, his hand glowing gold as he raised the Gauntlet. "Just let us pass, and I won't turn your favorite swivel chair into a pile of ash."

"There is no 'later', Bimo," Henderson stepped up the stairs, his shadow detaching from his feet to coil around the railing. "The System requires an offering to finalize the integration. You are the final piece of the puzzle."

"I’m not a piece! I’m a person!" Bimo hissed, casting a frantic glance at Arka. "What do I do? How do I stop him?"

"He’s using a Binding Seal," Arka grunted, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the walls. "Don't touch the ink. If he touches you, he’ll lock your soul to this floor."

"Well, that sounds like a permanent contract!" Bimo shrieked. "I’m allergic to permanent contracts!"

"Then hit him with everything you have! The Gauntlet—unleash the output!"

"I don't have an 'unleash' button! I have a 'maybe-this-will-work' button!" Bimo thrust his hand forward. A jagged bolt of golden light erupted from the Gauntlet, shattering the air itself.

Henderson didn't flinch. He simply raised his hand, and the light dissipated into harmless sparks. "You lack discipline, Bimo. You treat the power of gods like a broken office appliance."

"Because it’s in a stapler! What did you expect?" Bimo fired another shot, but this time, the shadows coalesced into a cage, slamming shut around him.

The metal bars were made of solidified void-light. Bimo pulled, but the energy bit into his skin, cold and numbing.

"Arka!" Bimo yelled, his vision blurring. "A little help here?"

"I’m a bit occupied!" Arka was locked in a whirlwind of steel against three faceless cultists who had descended from the ceiling.

"Bimo, listen to me," Henderson said, sliding his hand toward Bimo’s throat. "The merger is happening. The office is the conduit. Once you die here, the rift opens, and the Board of Directors—the true ones—will descend."

"I hate corporate takeovers," Bimo gasped, his strength fading as the cage drained his energy. "They always involve too many meetings."

"This one is final."

Suddenly, the stairwell exploded. Arka didn't run; he threw his entire body weight into the ceiling supports, bringing down a massive section of concrete and rebar directly onto the floor between Henderson and the cage.

"Get up, Bimo!" Arka roared, sliding his sword toward the base of the cage. "Overload the circuit! Now!"

"But I’ll bring the whole building down!"

"That’s the point! If the building stands, they win! Blow it to hell!"

Bimo stared at the Gauntlet. His hands were shaking. He could see the sky outside the window—it was turning that same bruised, violent violet.

"I’m going to lose my security deposit, aren't I?" Bimo whispered.

"You’re going to lose your life if you don't move!" Arka yelled, parrying a blade that nearly took his ear off.

Bimo slammed his glowing hand onto the floorboards, channeling every ounce of his anxiety, his frustration, and his sheer, unadulterated annoyance into the structure.

"Fine! You want a merger? Let’s merge the foundation with the basement!"

A sound like a world-ending thunderclap echoed through the stairwell. The golden light didn't just flash; it expanded into a blinding sun. The office walls groaned, metal groaned, and then, with a sickening, tectonic shift, the entire lobby floor beneath the conference room simply vanished into a localized singularity.

"Bimo!" Arka grabbed him, pulling him back as the ground buckled.

The building didn't just shake—it collapsed in on itself like a house of cards. The screams of the cultists were cut short by the roar of falling steel. As the roof gave way, the sky above revealed the massive, star-studded eye of the Manager, staring down in absolute, cold recognition.

Bimo slumped against the debris of the lobby, gasping for air, his clothes covered in drywall dust and soot. He looked up at the gaping hole where the city skyline should have been, seeing the panic of thousands of people looking toward the smoking crater that used to be their office building.

"Well," Bimo whispered, his voice trembling as his phone buzzed in his pocket with a 'Missed Call' notification from HR. "I guess I don't have to show up for the 9:00 AM."

Arka stood over him, his armor dented and smoking, his eyes fixed on the massive, blinking eye in the sky. "Bimo, the secret is out. Everyone sees us now."

"Great," Bimo wheezed, clenching his fist. "So, do we have a plan, or are we just going to wait for the final notice?"