Cronus' system: Against the gods

Chapter 110 The General's Gambit

Magnus groaned softly as the sharp trill of his phone broke the silence of his room. Reaching for it, he hesitated, his heart giving a faint thump. He rarely received calls. Who would call an orphan like him? His social circle was non-existent, except for one person.

Brenda.

His fingers trembled slightly as he swiped to answer, the memory of yesterday flashing vividly in his mind. The shadow blast from Lukas had almost killed him; he could still feel the phantom sting of it. But then Brenda had appeared, her face streaked with tears as she pressed that strange healing device to his chest. Her sobs and the way she'd clung to him afterward, arms tightening as if she'd never let go, had stirred something deep within him.

They'd only been dating for a week. One week. And yet, the intensity of her concern, her devotion—it caught him off guard. The kiss they'd shared before the Lucius debacle felt so distant now, an impulsive act of youthful recklessness. Or so he'd thought.

"Hello, Brenda," he said, his voice soft but steady.

"Hey!" Brenda's lively voice shot through the line, warm and bright like sunlight breaking through clouds. "Can we meet? Anywhere! Your call!"

Magnus blinked, momentarily disarmed by her energy. "Uh... a date?" His eyes roamed his disheveled room. Dust motes swirled in the air, illuminated by streaks of weak sunlight slipping through grimy windows. Clothes were scattered everywhere, books stacked precariously on every available surface. It looked less like a home and more like the hideout of someone perpetually on the run.

"Yeah!" Brenda chirped. "I've got a little something for you. Are you busy?"

Magnus hesitated, ruffling his already messy hair, a nervous habit he couldn't seem to shake. The last time she'd said she had something for him, they'd ended up in the secluded wing of the academy, their lips locked with a fervor that still made his ears burn. "Not... really," he said cautiously.

"Great! Let's meet at Oak and Lantern's again. Just the two of us this time," she added, a giggle slipping through her words.

Magnus' stomach flipped, both from her playful tone and the memory of the last date they had. "Is it safe?" he asked, a note of concern creeping into his voice. "I mean, after everything, are you sure your clan's okay with you wandering around alone?"

Brenda's laughter was light, almost carefree. "Safe? Please. They wouldn't dare stop me. Besides, the academy incident was hushed up, remember? No one knows. Not even my overbearing brother."

Magnus chuckled despite himself. The way she referred to her brother, the head of the Voss family, with such casual irreverence never failed to amuse him. And yet... her flippant attitude toward such power always left him in awe. She lived in a world of untouchable elites, while he...

He shook the thought from his head.

"Alright," he said at last, a smile tugging at his lips. "Oak and Lantern it is."

"Great! we'll meet by 4pm" Brenda replied and hung up the call, leaving Magnus wondering what surprise she had for him. Heck! Aren't I the one who's supposed to get her gifts and yet...it's the other way round" Magnus facepalmed, cussing at his poverty.

The dimly lit office reeked of tension. Shadows flickered across the walls as the overhead light buzzed faintly, adding to the oppressive atmosphere. Smoke curled lazily from the General's pipe, weaving patterns in the air before dissipating into nothingness. He leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight, and stared at the glowing holo-screen in front of him. His eyes narrowed, the blue hue of the display reflecting the fury simmering within.

"The Council has appointed Chairman Voss as the new Academy Head," the message read.

The General's lips curled into a snarl, his grip tightening around the ornate pipe. His hand trembled slightly, not from fear, but from sheer frustration. "Why?!" he growled, exhaling a cloud of smoke that swirled angrily, mirroring the storm brewing inside him.

Chairman Voss. The name alone carried weight, invoking whispers of fear and reverence. He was the head of the Voss family, second only to the ruling house in power and influence. Ruthless, cold, and impossibly calculating, Voss was a man who thrived on control. His icy demeanor was enough to send shivers down the spines of even the most hardened soldiers.

The General rubbed his temples, trying to quell the headache forming at the thought. Voss wasn't just a threat to the Academy; he was a threat to everything.

If Voss controlled the Academy, he'd have a direct hand in shaping future soldiers and leaders. That influence could bleed into the military ranks, undermining the General's authority. He'd only just claimed the title of General, barely had time to settle into the weight of his new responsibilities and now this? He could already picture Voss's sharp eyes and steely smile, plotting ways to claw away his power.

He took another long drag from the pipe, the embers glowing red like the fire in his chest. "What the hell were they thinking?" he muttered to himself. The Inner Council, with their anonymous faces and cryptic decisions, had made this call. But why? They were supposed to be incorruptible, beyond bribes or coercion.

A faint knock at the door jolted him from his spiraling thoughts.

"Yes," he barked, his voice gruff as he yanked the pipe from his mouth.

The door creaked open, revealing a young soldier. The man stepped inside, snapping a crisp salute. "Sir! The funeral for the late General is about to begin."

The words hung in the air, heavy and solemn. The General froze for a moment, the reality of his predecessor's death settling like a stone in his chest.

"I'll be there shortly," he replied, his voice low but firm.

The soldier nodded, retreating as quickly as he had arrived, leaving the General alone once more.

He set the pipe down on the desk, his fingers drumming against the polished wood. The smoke in the room began to dissipate, but the tension lingered, thick and suffocating.

Chairman Voss.

The name echoed in his mind. If the Inner Council wanted to test his resolve, they had succeeded. But one thing was certain: he wouldn't surrender his title or his command without a fight.