Hitman with a Badass System

Michael stood at the edge of the Celestial Valley, his gaze sweeping over the lush landscape one last time. He held the portable portal device in his hand, ready to activate it. The device was compact, yet intricate – a marvel of magical engineering that would transport him directly to Goldspire.

Ayag, perched on his shoulder, looked around with a hint of longing.

“Shouldn’t we explore the valley a bit more before leaving?” she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.

Michael shook his head, his expression resolute.

“Time is of the essence, Ayag. We need to forge a weapon with the centipede’s collarbone, and we have to get into the gala before it starts in three days. Every moment counts now.”

He pressed a button on the portal device, and it hummed to life, emitting a soft glow. A swirling vortex of light began to form in front of him, the gateway to Goldspire materializing out of thin air.

Michael took a deep breath, his mind focused on the tasks ahead. With the centipede’s collarbone in his possession and the goal of infiltrating Fortuna’s gala looming over him, there was no time to spare for further exploration.

As the portal stabilized, Michael stepped forward, entering the vortex with determination. Vedora clung to his shoulder, ready for the next phase of their mission.

***************************

Meanwhile, Rurik, the dwarf blacksmith and master of the Goldspire Blacksmith Guild, sat hunched over a pile of documents in his room. The papers, filled with names and figures, represented the logistics of hiring new blacksmiths and master craftsmen to replenish the guild’s depleted ranks. His brow was furrowed in concentration, a frown etched deeply into his rugged face.

Suddenly, his patience snapped. Slamming his fist down on the table, he bellowed,

“Where in the hell did the Guild Leader disappear to?!” His voice echoed through the room, a mixture of frustration and concern.

Rurik leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples as he mumbled to himself.

“First, Kranar’s assassins come and kill half of our guild, including some of my closest master blacksmith friends. Then, in the I encounter assassins of Kranar, Rainar, and Rin.”

His mumble turned into a grumble as he pondered over the recent bewildering events.

“And where is John? The man I thought was just a human blacksmith turns out to be the God of Darkness himself.”

The revelation still seemed to baffle him, the idea that someone he had viewed as a mere colleague was in fact a god in disguise. It added another layer of complexity to the already chaotic situation the guild found itself in.

Rurik’s gaze drifted back to the papers in front of him, but his thoughts were clearly elsewhere – tangled in the web of recent events and the mysterious disappearance of key figures, including John, the God of Darkness.

As Rurik sat in his room, lost in his thoughts, a sudden and unexpected vortex appeared in the middle of the room. The force of its emergence was so strong that it knocked his sturdy dwarven body, along with the chair, to the ground. Papers flew around chaotically, creating a storm of parchment.

“Fucking holy fuck,” Rurik cursed, his voice laced with a string of colorful dwarven swear words. Scrambling to his feet, he reached for his trusty battle axe, his eyes fixed on the swirling vortex. His stance was defensive, prepared for whatever or whoever might emerge from the portal.

His grip on the axe tightened, but his expression shifted from one of readiness to shock when he saw Michael, known to him as John, step out of the portal. Perched on Michael’s shoulder was a three-headed serpent, its heads swiveling to take in the surroundings.

Rurik, still holding his axe, relaxed slightly but remained visibly shaken by the sudden intrusion. The appearance of Michael, especially after learning of his true identity as the God of Darkness, added a layer of disbelief and awe to the already tense situation.

“John… or should I say, God of Darkness?” Rurik managed to say, his voice a mix of wariness and respect. The realization that beings of such power were directly involved with his guild was both unsettling and fascinating.

Michael couldn’t help but crack a joke when he noticed the overturned chair and realized Rurik had been knocked to the ground by the portal’s emergence.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt anything too important,” he said with a light-hearted chuckle, looking at the disarray in the room.

Rurik, still clutching his battle axe but now with a less tense posture, felt a bit eased by Michael’s casual demeanor.

“Oh, no, not at all. It’s just another day with gods popping out of portals in my room.” He responded with a hint of sarcasm,

Michael laughed at Rurik’s response, the sound warm and genuine.

“You can relax, Rurik. I’m not like those power-hungry gods like Rainar or Kranar. Just here on some guild business.”

His words, spoken with a friendly ease, helped to dispel the tension in the room further. Michael’s presence, though initially startling, now seemed more like that of an old acquaintance rather than a formidable god.

Then, with a casual flick of his wrist, Michael caused the collarbone of the centipede to materialize on the table between them. The bone appeared with a faint shimmer, instantly drawing Rurik’s attention.

Rurik’s eyes widened in astonishment as he beheld the unusual object.

“What kind of metal is this?” he asked, leaning in for a closer look.

He reached out tentatively, his experienced fingers brushing against the surface of the bone. His expression changed from curiosity to shock.

“This isn’t metal… it feels like bone,” he said, his voice laced with disbelief.

Michael nodded, a slight smile playing on his lips.

“Correct. It’s not just any bone, though. This is the bone of an ancient beast, a centipede, from the Celestial Valley.”

Rurik’s shock deepened as he processed Michael’s words. The idea of forging a weapon from the bone of a mythical creature was beyond anything he had encountered in his years of blacksmithing. The revelation that such a creature existed, let alone that its bones could be used for crafting, was enough to leave the seasoned dwarf blacksmith in awe.

Rurik, still trying to grasp the concept of a weapon forged from the bone of a mythical creature, asked Michael,

“What kind of weapon are you planning to forge with this?”

Michael’s response was straightforward yet chilling.

“Something that can kill a god,” he said, his tone serious.

The words hit Rurik like a physical blow, shocking him to the core. His heart skipped a beat as the gravity of Michael’s statement sank in. Killing a god was unheard of, a concept so far beyond the realm of possibility in Rurik’s mind.

“Anyone can be killed if the killer is skilled enough.” Michael observed Rurik’s reaction and added calmly.

Rurik stuttered in response, his voice barely above a whisper. “I… I can’t believe it. Killing a god…”

Michael nodded, understanding the disbelief and shock that Rurik was experiencing.

“You will believe it when Rainar falls. That’s the plan.” said Michael.

Rurik, torn between his principles and the unfolding reality, admitted,

“I cannot be a part of something so evil… but somehow, I feel that you are not evil, despite being the God of Darkness.”

Michael’s response was calm and measured.

“Darkness doesn’t equate to evil, just as light doesn’t equate to good. Remember that.”

Michael’s expression turned somber as he spoke of the current situation in Nimbosia, Rainar’s kingdom.

“In Nimbosia, people are being forced to pray and provide worship energy. They’re treated like slaves, bound to Rainar’s will.”

He looked directly at Rurik, his eyes conveying a deep resolve.

“That, Rurik, is true evil. What I’m planning to do is to put an end to that,”

Rurik listened intently, his usual tough demeanor softening as he absorbed the gravity of the situation. The thought of people being exploited and oppressed in such a way stirred a sense of pity and empathy within him.

After a moment of contemplation, Rurik sighed heavily, a look of determination settling on his face.

“How can I help?” he asked, his voice carrying a newfound sense of purpose. The realization that his skills as a blacksmith could contribute to a cause greater than himself seemed to give him a sense of clarity and resolve.

Michael’s plan, though daunting and fraught with danger, had touched a chord with Rurik. It was clear that the dwarf blacksmith was ready to play his part in this unfolding plan of Michael, driven by a desire to help those suffering under Rainar’s rule.

Michael’s voice was steady and composed as he outlined his needs to Rurik.

“I need to forge a weapon capable of killing Rainar from a distance. This bone,” he gestured towards the centipede’s collarbone on the table, “is a key component, but I need your expertise and experience in blacksmithing to make it happen.”

He continued, acknowledging his own skills but also the value of experience.

“I may be a five-star blacksmith, but sometimes, knowledge can be overshadowed by experience. And you, Rurik, have a wealth of experience that we should take advantage of.”

Rurik, listening intently, seemed to ponder Michael’s words. The idea of crafting a weapon with such a significant purpose was daunting, yet the challenge appeared to invigorate him. After a moment of thought, a look of realization dawned on his face.

“I might know just the thing,” Rurik said, a spark of inspiration in his eyes. His response indicated that he was not only ready to assist Michael but also had an idea that could potentially be the key to crafting the weapon they needed.