Hitman With A Badass System

Chapter 1372  Michael and Gaya Reunited I

Under the twin moons, the Distillery District of Goldspire was a desolate wasteland. Crumbling buildings, their windows boarded up or shattered, loomed like skeletal giants against the backdrop of the night. The air, thick with the stench of rotting fruit, spilled liquor, and something vaguely… sewer-like, made breathing a chore. Even the protection array that shimmered around the edges of the invisible barrier that separated the district from the rest of Goldspire seemed… rippling. The Distillery District was a stark contrast to the elegant, opulent heart of Goldspire, a festering sore on the city's otherwise pristine facade.

But hidden beneath the rubble of a collapsed warehouse, a group of figures huddled in the shadows. They wore strange, almost otherworldly, gear – tactical vests, knee pads, helmets with integrated night-vision goggles – that looked jarringly out of place in this world of swords and sorcery. They moved with a precision, a quiet efficiency, that spoke of years of training and experience.

Four of the figures were clearly male, their broad shoulders and rugged features accentuated by the tight-fitting green armor they wore. The other two…those curves, those strategically placed pouches that did little to conceal their… assets, left no doubt about their gender. One of the women, her blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, was fiddling with a device that looked suspiciously like a high-tech scanner. The other, her dark hair cropped short, her face adorned with a series of intricate tattoos, was chewing on a piece of gum, her jaw working rhythmically as she scanned the surroundings.

"There," the blonde woman said, pointing towards a faint, red light blinking in the distance. "Looks like our scout found it."

"Hope that bitch Seraphene's right about this," one of the men muttered, adjusting his helmet. "Heard stories about this place. No one who goes in… comes out."

"That's why we're here," the tattooed woman said, cracking her knuckles. "To see what the hell's going on in there. And to report back to Seraphine."

"Speaking of which…" one of the men, who was leaning against a broken wall, a cigarette dangling from his lips, spoke up. "Don't you think it's a little… weird? This whole thing? Coming straight from Seraphene herself? And all this… secrecy? This feels… bigger than just some goddamn Phoenix."

The burly man shrugged, his gaze fixed on the blinking red light. "Phoenixes are rarer than dragon shit. And this one's supposed to be the last of its kind. Makes sense that she'd want to… keep it under wraps." n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

"Yeah, well…" the smoker muttered, taking a long drag on his cigarette, "I still got a bad feeling about this."

But before anyone could reply, the tattooed woman backhanded him across the head.

"Did you just call Seraphene a bitch?" the blonde woman hissed, her hand shooting out to grab the smoker's collar. "Are you trying to get us all killed? That woman is the Goddess of Information, you dumb fuck. She probably knows what color underwear you're wearing right now."

The smoker, his eyes wide with alarm, stammered out an apology.

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"Sorry, sorry! It just… slipped out." He glanced nervously over his shoulder, as if expecting a flock of spectral ravens to descend upon them, carrying Seraphene's wrath. "It's just… she's so damn secretive. Always lurking in the shadows, pulling strings… gives me the creeps."

"That's because she's the ultimate spy," the tattooed woman chuckled, shaking her head. "Always ten steps ahead. Knows everything before it even happens."

The group, reassured that Seraphene's wrath wasn't about to rain down upon them… at least not yet, turned their attention back to the task at hand. They checked their weapons, a strange assortment of high-tech gadgets and ancient weaponry. Sleek, green-tinged crossbows, their bolts tipped with a glowing, pulsating liquid. Tiny, razor-sharp throwing blades that seemed to hum with a faint energy. And, nestled within a reinforced metal chest, a device that pulsed with a strange, otherworldly energy… their secret weapon for capturing the Phoenix.

One of the men, a burly fellow with a thick beard, hefted a heavy chest, its metal surface etched with arcane symbols.

"Don't forget this, fellas," he grunted. "The Phoenix Snare. Hope this shit actually works. "

They moved out, their footsteps silent on the rubble-strewn streets, their eyes constantly scanning their surroundings.

"Heard about those attacks on the Ironhands' branches?" one of the men whispered as they made their way through a maze of crumbling buildings. "Sage Spire, Riverhold, even that outpost in the Southern District…"

"Ever since old man Borgin kicked the bucket, that clan's been falling apart," another man said, spitting on the ground. "Heard there's a power struggle brewing. Someone's trying to… take over."

"I was at the Sage Spire branch after the attack," the blonde woman said, her voice grim. "It was… weird. No bodies. The guards were… drugged, I think. Just… out cold. And the cages… empty. All the beasts… gone. Vanished without a trace."

"Same thing happened at the Southern District branch," the smoker said, shaking his head. "Except… the guards were… well, they weren't sleeping. They were… shredded. Like something… ripped them apart. And guess what? The beasts? Gone. Fucking vanished."

He paused, taking a drag on his cigarette. "Whatever's going on here… it ain't natural."

They moved through the decaying streets, their steps cautious, their weapons at the ready. They were hunters, stalkers, trained to blend into the shadows, to move unseen, to strike without warning.

But what they didn't realize was… they weren't the only ones hunting in the Distillery District.

At that moment, hiding in the shadow of a crumbling distillery, a woman watched as a group of figures approached. She held a sleek, black crossbow – the God Slayer, a weapon that had tasted the blood of more than a few deities – and her gaze, sharp and calculating, swept over the newcomers, assessing their threat level. Beside her, a red-haired youngster, his eyes glowing with an inner fire, shifted impatiently.

This was none other than Gaya, the Goddess of Monsters, and her… companion, the Phoenix. She'd been… busy. Ever since Michael had left for the mortal realm to confront Noah, she'd been embracing her new role. She'd always had a… fondness for creatures, for the misunderstood, the outcast, the monstrous. And now, with her newfound divine status, she had the power to… help them.

She'd been liberating the caged beasts from the Ironhands' branches, one by one, leaving chaos and confusion in her wake. Those "attacks" they'd been talking about… those were her handiwork.

The drugged guards, the empty cages, the vanished beasts… it was all Gaya.

She hadn't always been so… subtle. In her old life, as a powerful but mortal cultivator, she'd been more of a "smash-and-grab" kinda girl. If she wanted something, she'd tear down walls, break down doors, and take it.

But in the realm of the Gods, she was weak. Vulnerable. She hadn't yet unlocked the secrets of cultivating worship energy, of drawing upon the faith of her followers to fuel her powers. She had to rely on… other methods.

Espionage. Manipulation. A little bit of… poison here, a strategically placed beast there…

It wasn't exactly her style. But desperate times, as they say, called for desperate measures.

She'd already taken out several groups of would-be Phoenix hunters in the last few days. Poor bastards, stumbling into the Distillery District, eager to claim their prize, only to find themselves facing a pissed-off Goddess and a creature of fire and legend.

But this group… they were different. Their strange armor, their weapons, the way they moved… there was something… off about them.

Gaya frowned, her mind racing. She'd gotten pretty good at using the Phoenix's… unique abilities… to her advantage. He was powerful, yes, but also… incredibly literal. She'd learned that if she wanted him to do something, she had to be very, very specific with her instructions.

"Those humans seem to love wearing green," Phoenix remarked, pointing towards the approaching figures. "They're not coming to hunt me, are they? They look friendly."

Gaya rolled her eyes and rapped him on the head with her knuckles.

"They're here for you, you idiot! How many times do I have to tell you? We've taken out like, five groups already! Get it through your thick skull – you're a goddamn target."

Phoenix winced at the knock, rubbing the back of his head.

"But… maybe we can talk to them?" he suggested, his voice hopeful.

"When has that ever worked?" Gaya scoffed. "Last time you tried to 'talk' to them, they tried to chain you up. And you ended up getting your ass kicked."

As usual, Pheonix aking her words literally, as always, frowned and rubbed his backside.

"They didn't kick me in the rear," he protested.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Gaya couldn't help but chuckle. He was like a goddamn duckling, following her around, asking endless questions, always eager to please. They'd killed a half dozen hunters already, and he still acted like these guys were just here for a friendly chat.

But even as she teased him, a knot of unease tightened in Gaya's gut. This group… they were different. They didn't shout, didn't boast, didn't fuck around like the others. They moved with a purpose, a silent efficiency that spoke of… professionalism.

That scout, lighting the signal, the way they'd approached in that tight, diamond formation, carrying that chest… they were trained. And not just beast tamer trained. This was… military-grade shit.

The question was… who the hell sent them?

Still struggling to unlock her godly powers in this realm, Gaya knew she couldn't take them on directly. Not yet. She'd have to resort to… other methods. A little poison here, a strategically placed beast there…

But first, she needed to distract them. Test their defenses. See what they were capable of. Thus, she let out a sharp whistle, a sound that echoed through the derelict buildings, a call to arms. Then, from the shadows, from the cracks in the walls, from the sewers beneath their feet, they came.

Slimes.

Dozens of them, small, gelatinous blobs, pulsating with a sickly green light, their forms shifting and rippling as they converged on her position, ready to do her bidding.

It wasn't exactly an army of dark lords. But it would have to do.

Whiel this was happening, high above the crumbling rooftops of the Distillery District, another figure watched the scene unfold. He sat perched on the edge of a building, his legs dangling over the side, a bottle of something that smelled suspiciously like whiskey clutched in his hand. His gaze, sharp and observant, swept over the gathering slimes, the approaching figures in their strange, green armor, the dilapidated buildings..

This was none other than Michael.

He'd arrived moments earlier and decided to… observe for a moment.

To be honest, he wanted to see Gaya in action. See how she handled herself in this new realm, with her powers still… dormant. And he had to admit, she was doing… okay. Not exactly her usual rip-everything-to-shreds style, but she was adapting…using her wits and cunning.

Then, he took a swig of whiskey flavoured fruit juice with a wry smile twisting his lips.

"Time for a little… family reunion."