CHAPTER 279: CHAPTER 278: DEEPEST TRUTH OF THE WORLD

The money was tempting... no, intoxicating. But his instincts screamed otherwise. Money could be made. Money could be stolen. But truth? Real truth? That was rarer than anything. If the system was offering him knowledge instead of material goods, it meant one thing: whatever this was, it would be hella worth it.

[You have chosen: Information.]

Initiating transmission... Brace yourself.

Just as he selected the information, the world around him seemed to glitch, before it cracked, like a porcelain mask spiderwebbing under pressure. The light bent unnaturally, colors bled into each other, and then everything swirled violently... his surroundings folding inward like a dying star.

And he was once again pulled into the system space. His ears buzzed with high pitched static, and a sharp pressure spiked behind his eyes. It felt like someone was unzipping the fabric of reality.

When he opened his eyes again, he was no longer in the world he knew. He stood barefoot on a glasslike surface that mirrored him perfectly. Around him stretched an infinite white void: blank, cold, vast... older than time itself. It felt like a place untouched by human memory, something primordial. He knew it wasn’t real... not physically... it was just his soul, his consciousness, or whatever part of him was being processed, it still felt deeply unnatural and didn’t stop the weight of it pressing down on his chest. Even as a mere projection of his mind, it felt more solid than anything he’d ever known.

In front of him, the air shimmered. A ripple formed in the space like a pebble dropped into water. Then a screen glitched into existence, flickering with faint static before stabilizing into the familiar interface of the System.

"You have chosen to forgo material gain in pursuit of truth."

"The veil shall now be lifted."

"What follows is not just mere knowledge—

—it is revelation. It is Truth."

The system’s voice, typically calm and robotic, now carried an eerie reverence. It felt less like a machine and more like a priest before a sermon not meant for mortal ears.

"You must have asked yourself what this world truly is?

Who holds the power?

Who pulls the strings?

Brace yourself.

The answer is not a name.

Not a face.

—It is a legacy. The deepest truth of your world."

Suddenly, the white space around him glitched and transformed into a living panorama—the cradle of civilization.

He now stood at the edge of an ancient city. Not a replica. Not a vision. He was there, feeling the dry wind whip against his face. The stone walls were sunbaked and immense. Kings and queens lounged in marble palaces, surrounded by fruits and delicacies from distant lands while the commoners toiled.

The scene blurred and shifted.

The floor beneath him became molten gold, then cobblestone, then sand. Above him, constellations rearranged into forgotten crests. The air smelled of incense, blood, coal smoke, perfume, and power... ancient and modern layered into one overwhelming scent.

Rex saw scenes shift rapidly:

Priests chanting in ancient Sumerian ziggurats.

Pharaohs commanding pyramid construction through sheer divine decree, all built by slaves.

African tribal chiefs holding councils under baobab trees, surrounded by gold and ivory.

Chinese merchant dynasties overseeing silk and spice trades, scholars writing edicts with jade-carved brushes.

Roman senators feasting, debating conquests while gladiators clashed below.

Byzantine courts veiled in purple and intrigue.

Japanese daimyos performing tea ceremonies while plotting clan warfare.

European castles filled with nobles as peasants shoveled dung outside

French kings dancing in Versailles as peasants fought for bread.

Mughal emperors lounging on jeweled thrones while laborers carved marble.

Mayan kings offering obsidian-blade blood sacrifices while slaves hauled limestone.

British in India being fanned by servants while starving villagers begged outside palace gates

Then forward:

Factories during the Industrial Age, choking laborers in coal dust and child workers barely upright.

Colonizers sipping tea while railroads cut through jungles and villages burned.

1950s boardrooms where suits signed nations away over cigars and whiskey.

Today: modern-day glass offices buzzing with overworked employees as CEOs dined in secret clubs, while the shareholders holding board meetings in Dubai, hidden yachts off Monaco, billionaires’ bunkers in New Zealand.

In every age, the rich indulged, and the poor labored. The tools changed, rulers changed... but the pattern remained. From the tilling of fields to the churning of factory gears, to fluorescent-lit office cubicles in the modern age, the peasants’ fate remained the same.

Labor evolved. Exploitation endured.

Through every transformation, Rex was there, watching history replay from the underside.

Even though he had read about such things before, but its impact wasn’t even a fraction of it. He used to think that it was all exaggerated stuff, but now...

The system continued:

"You will come to see that history, as it is taught to the masses, is merely a curated fairytale.

From the beginning of recorded civilization, a small number of families; royal bloodlines, merchant dynasties, and occult houses, have held absolute power. What once began as emperors, kings, and warlords has evolved into financiers, bureaucrats, and boardroom phantoms."

You believe the world is run by governments," the system said, voice a mechanical whisper now, echoing in his mind. "But you are mistaken.

There are no governments. There are only bloodlines."

They have worn many faces across time: pharaohs, popes, priests, nobles, presidents, reformers. But their core nature has remained unchanged, control through illusion, domination through inheritance.

It may appear that power shifted hands through revolutions, elections, and progress, but that is the masterstroke of their deception. The surface changes, but the structure beneath remains eternal."

The scenes kept shifting... modern skyscrapers rising from the bones of ancient temples. Corporations absorbing kingdoms. Golden crowns replaced by corporate logos. But the faces behind them were the same.

Images flickered: revolutions, guillotines, ballots, protests, all giving way to new thrones with different names. The Bastille falling, Lenin on a train, Declaration of independence signing, Storming of the Winter Palace all co-opted in the end.

"Today, those same ancient families still rule the world, only now they hide behind the masks of corporate logos, faceless hedge funds, and non-governmental institutions.

They no longer need thrones.

They own the systems that choose the thrones."

(End of Chapter)