Hitman with a Badass System

Meanwhile, at the edge of the forest, the remaining cultists were getting… restless.

"What's taking that mutt so long?" one of them grumbled, kicking at a loose rock. "He should have found them by now. Those Ava worshippers can't have gotten far."

"Maybe… he found something… more… interesting," another cultist chuckled, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "You know Baruk. Always had a nose for… the ladies."

"Yeah, that's probably it," the first cultist laughed. "He's probably… entertaining himself. While we're stuck out here, freezing our asses off."

"Let's go find him," a third cultist suggested, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger. "If he isn't dead, he better have a damn good excuse for not signaling us."

They had no idea that their… friend… was no longer capable of… signaling… anything. Or that the God of Darkness was now stalking them, a predator moving silently through the shadows, his eyes gleaming with a cold, lethal intent.

Deep within the forest, nestled among the towering trees and shimmering hot springs, was a hidden sanctuary. A small, carefully tended garden, its air filled with the scent of wildflowers and the gentle murmur of a nearby waterfall. In the center of the garden, a pond, its waters crystal clear, teemed with colorful koi fish. Blue flowers, their petals shimmering with a faint, ethereal light, lined the banks of the pond, their fragrance mingling with the sweet scent of the golden maple trees that provided shade from the oppressive sky above.

Beneath those trees, a group of figures huddled together. Men, women, and children, their clothes tattered and muddy, their faces etched with exhaustion and fear.

"Mommy, when are we going home?" a small child whimpered, clinging to his mother's skirt. "I'm… scared."

The adults exchanged uneasy glances, struggling to find the right words to explain the… situation to their children. How do you tell a child that they're being hunted? That their homes have been destroyed? That their lives are in danger?

But before they could answer, a figure emerged from behind one of the maple trees. It was a young woman, her green hair pulled back into a braid, her eyes kind and reassuring, and a basket filled with fruits and bread clutched in her hands.

"Here you go, little ones," she said, her voice soft, gentle, as she distributed the food among the children. "Eat up. You need your strength."

"Thank you, Miss Fayeth," the children chorused, their faces brightening as they grabbed the food, their hunger momentarily eclipsing their fear.

This was Fayeth, the Angel of Ava and the last hope for those who'd escaped Agra's wrath.

"Now, off you go and play," she added, her smile widening. "We'll be going home soon. I promise."

The children, their faces lighting up, scurried off, their laughter echoing through the trees as they chased each other through the undergrowth, their small hands clutching the precious fruits and bread.

The adults, however, remained, their faces etched with worry.

"We shouldn't… give them false hope, Fayeth," one of the men said, his voice heavy with a weariness that went beyond physical exhaustion.

"I… I can't bear to… shatter their dreams," the mother of one of the children whispered, her eyes filled with tears. "Not yet."

"Ava hears our prayers," Fayeth said, her voice firm, unwavering. "She will not abandon us. Not in our hour of need."

"Tell that to the ones… being worked to death in Agra's temple," another man snorted, his gaze fixed on the ground. "They prayed too, didn't they? Where was Ava then?"

"We cannot lose faith," a woman said, her voice laced with a quiet conviction. "Ava is our Goddess. She will…"

"A Goddess we haven't seen in… how long?" the first man interrupted, his voice laced with bitterness. "Centuries? Millennia?"

Fayeth sighed, her heart aching. She knew the doubts, the whispers, that had spread through Ava's followers. It had been… a long time. Too long.

Ava, the Goddess of Healing, had… disappeared. Vanished from her domain without a trace, leaving her worshippers and her angels… lost. Alone.

There were rumors, of course. Whispers that she'd abandoned them, that she'd grown tired of their… imperfections. Some even said she'd joined Dagon, the ruler of hell, seduced by his darkness, his power. Others, more audacious, claimed she'd gone to the mortal realm, seeking… something. Though how a god could pass through the barrier erupted by the God of Darkness, no one could explain.

But Fayeth… Fayeth still believed. She knew, deep in her heart, that Ava hadn't abandoned them. That she was out there, somewhere, in the vast expanse of the realm of the Gods, doing… something.

She didn't know what her Goddess was doing. Or why. But she had faith. And she wasn't about to let these doubters crush the spirits of those who'd already lost so much.

"It's our fault she left!" the woman who'd defended Ava suddenly exclaimed, her voice filled with a mixture of anger and… self-loathing. "We… we betrayed her!"

The others shifted uncomfortably, their gazes fixed on the ground, a flicker of shame in their eyes.

"We… harmed her. Didn't care, didn't stop our own from harming her. We chased her away," the woman continued, her voice rising. "When she… when she healed Morbus."

"Morbus?" one of the men echoed, frowning. "That… brought the plague upon us."

"A plague she healed," the woman shot back, her gaze burning with a righteous fury. "She's the Goddess of Healing, for God's sake! When someone's… begging for help, even if that someone is… Morbus, the God of Plagues… she has to help! It's in her nature! She's merciful! Kind! Compassionate!"

She paused, taking a deep breath, her voice softening slightly.

"But we… we were so… blind. So… righteous. We accused her of… colluding with Morbus. Of betraying us. And in our… fury… we… we asked her to leave."

A heavy silence fell over the group, the weight of their past mistakes, their betrayal, settling upon them like a shroud.

"We… we didn't think," another man said quietly, his voice barely a whisper. "We didn't… consider the consequences. We thought… the forest would protect us. That we could… survive without her. We were… wrong. So damn wrong."

Hearing them, Fayeth felt a pang of… something. Pity? Anger? Helplessness? It was a story she knew all too well. A tragedy that had played out centuries ago and was no secret in the realm of the Gods. The tale of Ava's betrayal, of her worshippers' shortsighted fury, had been whispered in every temple, every tavern, every back alley, how Ava, in her infinite compassion, had healed Morbus, the God of Plagues, only to have her kindness twisted, her mercy betrayed.

It all started when Morbus tried to spread his plagues on the worshippers of Rudra, the God of War. Back then, before the Dark Lord's rise, the death of a god was… unthinkable. They were immortal, invulnerable, the apex predators of the cosmic food chain. But even if a god couldn't be killed… at least not by other gods, which was proven false by Michael…they could still be… hurt. And Rudra, in his fury, had done a real number on Morbus. He had left the Plague God alive, but barely, his body wracked with pain, his power… diminished. Thus, Morbus, desperate for healing, had fled to the Verdant Sanctuary and sought Ava's aid.

Ava, being Ava, couldn't refuse his plea for help. She'd healed him, using her divine power and connection to the Verdant Sanctuary to mend his broken body and restore his strength. But in doing so, she'd inadvertently… unleashed a plague upon her own domain.

Morbus's power, his very essence, was tied to disease, decay, and suffering. And as he healed, as his strength returned, that power… seeped into the Verdant Sanctuary, corrupting its life-giving energy and twisting it into something… toxic.

The plague had swept through Ava's domain like wildfire, killing countless mortals, ravaging the land. And Morbus, that ungrateful bastard, instead of showing gratitude, had simply… left. Vanished, leaving Ava to deal with the aftermath of his… recovery.

Ava, despite her immense power, her connection to healing, had struggled becuase although she was the Goddess of Healing, she was fighting a plague spread by a fellow God. Still, she had managed to contain the plague, to heal her people, but the damage… the loss of life… it had been… devastating.

And her worshippers, blinded by grief, by the pain of their loss, had turned on her. They'd accused her of… conspiring with Morbus. Of bringing the plague upon them intentionally. They'd demanded she leave.

Ava, heartbroken and betrayed, both by Morbus and her own people, had simply… vanished, abandoning the Verdant Sanctuary. After Ava's disappearance, the Verdant Sanctuary had… survived. The land, though scarred by the plague, had slowly begun to heal. The people, though still haunted by their losses, had rebuilt their lives, their faith in Ava… wavering, but not entirely extinguished. They'd lived in relative peace and prosperity for centuries, their connection to the land, to the healing magic that still pulsed beneath the surface, sustaining them.

But that peace was shattered when the civil war erupted in the realm of the Gods. Andohr's rebellion, his bid for power, had thrown the Pantheon into chaos. And in that chaos, Agra, the self-proclaimed God of Chaos, had risen.

He'd seen an opportunity in Ava's absence, a chance to claim a domain, to amass power, to spread his own twisted brand of… order.

And the Verdant Sanctuary, weakened, vulnerable, ripe for the taking, had become his target.

But as Fayeth was lost in her memories, a sudden chill ran down her spine. It wasn't a feeling of fear, not exactly. It was… a premonition. A sense of… recognition.

She'd felt this aura before back in Nimbosia when the orc tried to humiliate her by tearing her clothes off. It was the God of Darkness. The one who'd saved her.

Soon, a slow smile spread across her lips, a glimmer of hope returning to her eyes.

"Ava… hasn't abandoned us," she said, her voice quiet but firm, her gaze sweeping across the faces of the refugees huddled beneath the trees. "She has… sent someone. In her stead. He's not known for his compassion. Or his mercy. But he is known for his retribution."

The refugees, their faces a mixture of confusion and hope, stared at her, their eyes wide.

"Who… who is coming, Fayeth?" one of the women asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Fayeth's smile widened.

"The God of Darkness."

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