Hitman with a Badass System

The cultists stepped into the forest, their faces twisting in disgust as they surveyed the tranquil surroundings.

"Ugh, look at this green shit," one of them snarled, kicking at a patch of wildflowers. "It's sickening. All this order. It's an insult to Agra!"

"Yeah, where's the decay? The suffering?" another cultist grumbled, spitting on the ground. "This place needs a good cleansing. A little fire."

They spread out, their black robes rustling against the leaves, their daggers glinting in the dappled sunlight, searching for any sign of Baruk, their transformed comrade. They stomped on flowers, and snapped twigs, their movements a deliberate desecration of the forest's serenity.

Unbeknownst to them, they were being watched. Michael and Gaya, hidden high above in the branches of a towering maple tree, observed their movements with cold, calculating gazes.

"Looks like our friends are enjoying their little nature walk," Gaya murmured, a hint of amusement in her voice.

"Let them enjoy their last walk," Michael replied, his eyes gleaming with a predatory light.

"There!" one of the cultists, a younger, less experienced tracker—if he'd been any good at tracking, he would have gone after the Ava worshippers instead of Baruk, so luck was definitely on his side today—pointed towards a set of paw prints in the soft earth. "Dog tracks! Fresh. Must be Baruk. Let's move!"

"That mutt better be dead," another cultist growled, cracking his knuckles. "If we find him playing around when we're supposed to be hunting he's gonna pay."

They followed the tracks, their laughter echoing through the trees but they had no idea that the one they were searching for was already dead. Reduced to a pile of ash by the God of Darkness. As they followed the tracks deeper and deeper into the forest, the trees grew taller and the air thickened with the scent of wildflowers and then, they stopped. At the end of the trail of paw prints, a small pile of ash lay on the ground, still smoldering, a faint wisp of smoke curling upwards into the air.

They stared at the ash, their expressions shifting from confusion to unease. Ava's worshippers they weren't exactly known for their firepower. And a pile of ash well, that wasn't exactly their style. They were the ones who burned things, not the other way around.

"What the?"

"Is that Baruk?" the tracker asked, his brow furrowed in disbelief.

"Don't be stupid," another cultist scoffed. "That's just a pile of ash. Probably some animal. A squirrel, maybe. Those things are always spontaneously combusting."

"But the tracks"

"There are no tracks from the ashes, you idiot, " the third cultist pointed out, frowning. "It means something or someone stopped here. And then left."

"But what if?"

"There's no 'what if', " the first cultist said, shaking his head. "Baruk's probably just exploring. He'll be back. Now come on, let's find those Ava worshippers before they disappear."

Michael and Gaya watched from the trees as the cultists moved on, their laughter fading into the distance.

"So," Gaya said, turning to Michael, a thoughtful frown creasing her brow, "now that we've… disposed of the mutt… how do we find the… survivors?"

Michael chuckled, a low rumble in his chest.

"I already found them," he said, gazing across the forest. "That's why I… took care of Baruk. He was getting… close."

"How?" Gaya asked, surprised.

Michael simply pointed towards the sky.

Hovering above the trees, almost invisible against the backdrop of the dark, stormy clouds, was a small, metallic object. A Spyder drone, its camera lens gleaming, its rotors whirring softly.

Gaya's frown turned into a predatory grin.

"Well, then," she purred, her hand instinctively reaching for the God Slayer crossbow. "What are we waiting for? Let's go… introduce ourselves to those assholes."

"With pleasure," Michael said, cracking his knuckles.

Having no idea they were being watched, the Agra worshippers continued their pursuit, following the amateur tracker's… expert… navigation.

"I… I think… this way," the tracker stammered, scratching his head, his gaze darting around nervously. "Unless… unless Baruk… changed direction? Or… maybe he… flew?"

"If that mutt learned how to fly, I'll eat my own boots," one of the cultists grumbled, rolling his eyes. "Just… keep moving, Gronk. And try not to… get us lost."

But as they rounded a bend in the path, a dark shape, a figure of immense power and menacing intent, dropped from the trees behind them. The thud of his landing, heavy and solid, sent a shiver of unease through the cultists.

They spun around, their hands instinctively reaching for the daggers at their waists.

"Who the fuck…?" one of them growled with a hint of… fear.

Michael stood before them, a figure of dark power and cold fury. His armor, black as midnight and etched with glowing crimson lines, seemed to absorb the light of the forest, making him appear even larger, even more menacing than he truly was. The skull emblem on his chest plate, along with the skull-like mask that concealed his features made the hair on the back of their necks stand on end.

"By Agra… he is…" one of the cultists whispered, his voice trembling, his eyes wide with terror. The medallion on Michael's chest pulsed, masking his energy signature. It was a precaution to prevent Raphael, or any other… interested parties, from tracking his movements.

Then, Michael didn't give them time to react. Instead, with a burst of speed that defied comprehension, he was upon them, leaving a trail of crackling black streak of lightning.

Gaya, watching from the trees, saw the cultists freeze, their eyes widening in horror, before their heads, cleanly severed from their bodies, toppled to the ground. A heartbeat later, their bodies erupted in black flames, their flesh and bone consumed, reduced to nothing but a pile of smoking ash in a matter of seconds.

This was the real power of a god and the vast power gap between a god and mortals.

Tiny wildflowers, their petals a delicate shade of pink, bloomed in the patterns of the blood splattered on the ground which was a macabre yet strangely beautiful contrast to the killings. The bodies of the cultists, consumed by Michael's dark flames, were reduced to piles of ash, just like Baruk, the dog-cultist, before them.

Gaya, landing lightly beside Michael after executing a graceful flip from the tree branch, let out a low whistle.

"Damn, Michael," she said, her eyes wide with a mixture of awe and respect.

"They didn't even stand a chance. You made it look… easy," said Gaya.

"They're mortals, Gaya," Michael replied with a shrug. "I'm a god. It's… not exactly a fair fight."

He'd barely broken a sweat. These Agra worshippers, still stuck at the Qi Awakening stage of cultivation—babies, practically—were no match for his power. They were so weak, so insignificant, that the System hadn't even bothered to give him any experience points for killing them. What was the point of getting 100 Experience points, That would be an insult to the system and Michael.

He turned his gaze toward the distant clearing, where his Spyder drone had last spotted Fayeth and the other survivors.

"Come on," he said, taking Gaya's hand. "Let's go find our guests."

They followed the Spyder drone, its tiny camera lens transmitting a live feed of the forest path to Michael's environmental map, its rotors whirring softly as it led them deeper into the Verdant Sanctuary.

As they walked, the trees grew taller, their branches intertwining to form a dense canopy that blocked out most of the light from the stormy sky above. The air grew warmer, the scent of wildflowers and the steam from the hot springs growing stronger, and soon, a clearing emerged ahead.

In the center of the clearing, a small, carefully tended garden bloomed like a jewel amidst the surrounding wilderness. Michael and Gaya recognized the tranquil pond, its crystal-clear water teeming with colorful koi, the blue flowers that shimmered with ethereal light, and the golden maple trees that offered shade and sanctuary. As they stepped out of the forest and into the garden, Michael saw them. A group of figures, men, women, and children, huddled together beneath one of the maple trees, their faces a mixture of hope and fear.

But before Michael could call out to them, a figure emerged from behind the tree. Fayeth.

Her green hair, usually styled in elaborate braids, was now pulled back into a simple ponytail, her face pale but determined. Her eyes widened as she saw Michael, and a slow smile, a mix of relief and gratitude, spread across her lips. Tears welled up, blurring her vision, but they weren't tears of sadness. They were tears of… hope.

She knew, with a certainty that the God of Darkness had come to help, end Agra's reign of terror and restore the Verdant Sanctuary to its former glory and beauty.

He had saved her before, back in Nimbosia, when she'd been at her most vulnerable. And now… now he was here again, answering her prayers when she needed him the most. Whatever the Pantheon said about him, whatever stories the mortals whispered about the God of Darkness… to Fayeth, he was a true god. A god who answered prayers. A god who… cared.

Then, she stepped forward, her eyes shining with unshed tears, and without thinking, took Michael's hand in hers.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "Thank you for… coming."

Then, she noticed Gaya.

The woman standing beside Michael was… striking. Tall, with raven hair that cascaded down her back like a silken waterfall, and eyes that… well, they didn't exactly radiate warmth and kindness. She didn't have the… aura of a goddess, not the kind Fayeth was used to sensing, but there was a power in her stance, in the way she held herself, in the way her gaze met Fayeth's with a cool, assessing intensity. And she was… tall. Almost as tall as Michael.

Seeing Fayeth practically clinging to Michael's hand, Gaya rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, do it like his wife isn't standing right here," Gaya said, rolling her eyes, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Fayeth, startled, released Michael's hand and took a step back, her cheeks flushing crimson. The mention of 'his wife' struck Fayeth like a freight train. Of course, who else could it be other than the Goddess of Monsters could stand next to the Goddess of Darkness? Fayeth's eyes widened as she realized she was standing before not one but two gods, maybe the most powerful couples in the entire universe.

"Oh," she stammered, her eyes wide. "I… I'm so sorry, my lady. I didn't…"

Gaya simply chuckled, shaking her head.

"It's okay," she said, her smile softening slightly. "He gets that a lot."

"Seriously, Fayeth," Michael said, turning to her, a teasing grin spreading across his face, "how do you manage to end up in some godforsaken hellhole every time I see you?"

Fayeth laughed which belied the fear and worry she'd been carrying.

"It seems to be… my fate," she sighed. "Maybe Fortuna hates me."

"No," Michael said, shaking his head. "I think Fortuna's finally smiling on you, Fayeth. Because I'm here to take kill Agra. And you you might be able to help."

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