Hitman with a Badass System - #1143 - 1143 Rainar's Cruelty

As Michael stepped out of the swirling vortex of the portal, the alley around him was steeped in darkness. The dim light from the few functioning street lamps cast eerie shadows across the ravaged streets. He surveyed the scene before him: buildings crumbled like fallen dominos, their once sturdy structures now mere heaps of debris. The relentless downpour had turned the streets into turbulent rivers, water swirling around the remnants of what once was a bustling city.

“What the fuck happened here?” Perched on Michael’s shoulder, Ayag hissed in disbelief. 

Michael’s eyes trailed upwards, witnessing a chaotic aerial battle. Angels clad in emerald green armor, representing Rainar, clashed fiercely with their silver-armored counterparts of Kranar. Their skirmish painted a surreal picture against the stormy sky, a dance of divine warriors amidst thunder and lightning.

The rain was unrelenting, pouring down in sheets, adding to the floodwaters that had already engulfed the kingdom. The streets were now fast-flowing streams, carrying away anything not anchored. A child’s toy floated by, a poignant reminder of the life that once thrived here.

Amidst the chaos, on the roofs of the few buildings still standing, people huddled, their faces etched with fear and despair. A woman cradled a small child, her voice cracking as she comforted the whimpering toddler, 

“Shh, it’s going to be alright, we’ll be safe here.” Nearby, an elderly man sat alone, staring blankly into the distance, murmuring, “Everything’s gone… everything.”

Realizing the rising water posed an immediate threat, Michael swiftly unhooked a grappling hook from his belt. With a skillful throw, the hook latched onto a nearby rooftop. He tugged it to ensure it was secure, then began his ascent, pulling himself up away from the encroaching flood.

“Why is Rainar flooding his own kingdom?” Once safely atop the building, Sarba spoke with a tone of confusion. 

The rain hammered down around them, the sound nearly drowning out Sarba’s question. 

Cain, the third head of the serpent, spoke up, his voice cutting through the din of the storm. “We should meet Fayeth and ask her what’s going on here.”

Michael nodded, recalling Fayeth, an angel of Ava, the Goddess of Healing. He remembered her serene demeanor and the sense of calm she radiated, a stark contrast to the chaos unfolding around him. He could still remember how he met the Fayeth when he first arrived at Nimbosia. She was helping the refugees. Thinking of her, Michael couldn’t help wonder what’s happening in the kingdom.

With determined agility, Michael leaped from building to building, making his way toward Ava’s temple. Each jump was a calculated risk, a dance over the watery abyss below. The people stranded on rooftops watched in surprise and awe. “Look at him go!” one man exclaimed, his voice tinged with a mix of disbelief and hope.

“Who is that?” a woman wondered aloud, her brow furrowed in confusion. They hadn’t seen anyone move with such purpose and skill amidst the calamity.

As Michael continued his journey, the sounds of celestial combat filled the air. Rainar’s angels, in their emerald green armor, clashed fiercely with Kranar’s silver-armored warriors above. Their shouts and the clashing of their weapons resonated through the stormy sky.

“We fight for Rainar! For the glory of our god!” one of Rainar’s angels bellowed triumphantly, swinging a massive sword that gleamed in the lightning flashes.

“The storm will not deter us! Kranar’s will shall prevail!” countered an angel of Kranar, as they swooped down with a silver blade flashing in a deadly arc.

The battle was intense, with neither side showing any signs of yielding. The shouts of triumph and battle cries mingled with the sounds of the storm, creating a symphony of war and chaos.

Michael, focused on his destination, leaped onto another rooftop, getting ever closer to Ava’s temple. His movements were swift, yet he couldn’t help but feel the weight of the situation. The cries of the people, the clash of the angels, and the relentless rain all bore down on him, but his resolve remained unshaken.

Michael’s journey finally led him to Ava’s temple, but what he saw was disheartening. The once majestic structure was almost entirely submerged, its intricate architecture barely visible above the surging floodwaters. It was a somber sight, the temple’s sanctity drowned in the relentless deluge.

Nearby, atop a partially submerged building’s rooftop, Michael spotted Fayeth. She was a beacon of calm amidst the chaos, her presence soothing the scared and stranded. She moved among the people with grace, offering words of comfort to trembling children and anxious adults alike.

Her gentle voice could be heard above the rain, “Don’t worry, we are safe here for now. Ava protects us.” Her words seemed to bring some relief to the distressed faces around her.

Just then, a woman in green robes, one of Ava’s acolytes, approached Fayeth with a heavy heart. “Three more have been lost to the flood,” she reported, her voice quivering with grief.

Fayeth’s face fell at the news, a deep sigh escaping her lips as she absorbed the weight of the losses. She turned to offer further comfort to those around her, and that’s when her eyes met Michael’s. In that moment, a glimmer of hope and surprise flickered in her eyes, as if his very presence brought a ray of light into the grim situation.

“John!” she exclaimed, her voice carrying a mixture of relief and astonishment. The people around her turned to look at him, their expressions mirroring Fayeth’s surprise.

Michael, standing before Fayeth, didn’t waste any time. “Why is Rainar flooding his own kingdom?” he asked, his voice carrying a mix of confusion and concern.

Fayeth’s expression hardened, her hand involuntarily clenching into a fist. “Rainar wants his people to pray to him more,” she said, her voice tinged with anger. “He believes that the more they pray, the more power he will gain.”

Michael frowned, puzzled by this logic. “But why? Why would he resort to such extremes?”

“The more people pray, the more power he gets,” she growled. 

“It’s a desperate attempt to strengthen himself in this war.” Fayeth’s frustration was palpable.

“But with the artifacts, Rainar could end this war. Why continue with such destruction?” Sarba chimed in,

Fayeth shook her head, a look of despair crossing her face. “I don’t know about the artifacts you speak of, but Rainar is desperate to win. He’s using every dirty trick in the book.”

Michael looked around at the devastated surroundings, the people huddled in fear, the city in ruins. 

“So, the people are paying the price,” he said, his voice heavy with the realization of the situation’s gravity.

The reality of the situation was stark and cruel. Rainar’s actions, driven by a desire for power, had brought untold suffering to his own people, turning his kingdom into a battleground and its citizens into victims of his ambition.

Fayeth turned to Michael, her eyes conveying a mix of determination and desperation.

“John, I need your help,” she implored, recalling his identity as the rogue god in her mind.

Michael’s gaze swept over the scene around them. His attention was drawn to a woman clutching her baby boy, tears streaming down her face.

“Please, someone save us,” she sobbed, her voice filled with despair and fear.

Nearby, he noticed a group of people huddled together, their voices murmuring prayers.

“Rainar, the ever mighty god,” they chanted, not in devotion but in sheer terror. Their prayers were pleas for mercy, a last resort in the face of their overwhelming plight.

A surge of anger welled up in Michael. He frowned deeply, his disgust at Rainar’s actions growing. The god’s selfishness and cruelty were now more evident than ever, fueling Michael’s resolve to confront him.

Fayeth watched Michael, her expression one of reluctant hope.

“What is it?” Michael asked, noticing her hesitation.

Fayeth took a deep breath. “I need your help to rescue the citizens taken to Rainar’s temple. They’re being forced to pray to him, and they will die if not rescued soon,” she explained, her voice laced with urgency.

Fayeth’s eyes met Michael’s, filled with a mix of hope and uncertainty. “I don’t know your true intentions or powers or why you even here, but I have a feeling you might be able to help. I’m desperate,” she confessed.

Michael placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I’ll rescue them. And I promise, Rainar’s reign will end soon,” he declared, his voice firm with conviction.

In that moment, Michael’s commitment was more than just a response to Fayeth’s plea; it was a vow, a determination to right the wrongs inflicted by a god consumed by his own power.

As Michael turned to leave, he suddenly leaped forward with inhuman speed, a blur against the backdrop of the stormy sky. Fayeth, witnessing this extraordinary display, stood in shock, her eyes wide with amazement. His actions reminded her of what he did to Rodney, the angel of Rainar a month ago. This rogue god was her only hope.

He moved with a grace and agility that seemed to defy the laws of nature, swiftly leaping from one rooftop to another. His figure, a fleeting shadow in the relentless downpour, was headed straight towards Rainar’s temple.

Fayeth watched him go, a mix of awe and curiosity in her gaze. As he disappeared into the distance, she murmured to herself, 

“Please save them,”

 As he left, she stood there, looking out into the storm, contemplating the enigmatic rogue god might be the flicker of hope in the midst of chaos and despair.