Hitman with a Badass System - #1161 - 1161 Onto the gala of the gods

With swift and decisive action, Michael dashed towards the orc, his sword a blur of motion. In one fluid movement, he swung his blade, cleanly severing the orc’s head from his body. The orc’s clone fell to the ground, lifeless, as Michael stood, his expression unyielding.

The system chimed in with notifications, acknowledging his victory.

[Ding! Congratulations to the host for killing the orc’s clone. The reward is 4000 Experience points and 400 Badass points]

[Ding! Congratulations to the host for successfully being a badass. The reward is 5000 Badass points]

After dealing with the threat, Michael’s attention turned to the golden energy cage that still held his hollow armor. He regarded it for a moment before shifting his gaze to Fayeth, who stood next to the cage, her face a mixture of relief and weariness.

Walking towards her, Michael gently took off his long black coat and draped it over Fayeth’s shoulders, covering her torn dress. The gesture was one of care and protection, a stark contrast to the violence and chaos that had just transpired.

Feeling the warmth of the coat around her, Fayeth looked up at Michael with gratitude in her eyes. Clutching the fabric close to her, she offered her gratitude. 

 “Thank you.” She whispered a heartfelt thank you to Michael.

Michael, examining the golden energy cage, rubbed his chin thoughtfully. 

“Now, how do I disable this thing?” he murmured, his gaze fixed on the glowing chakra beneath the cage.

Still trying to recover from the recent ordeal, Fayeth stuttered out a suggestion. 

“You can… destroy the ground around it and pull the armor out from underneath,” she proposed, her voice still shaky.

As they spoke, Vedora crawled back onto Michael’s shoulder, settling in comfortably. 

“So, could we have destroyed the ground if we were trapped inside to escape?” Ayag chimed in curiously. 

Michael shook his head after hearing Ayag. 

“I don’t think that would work. The runes and arrays are likely designed to make any rogue god inside weak, preventing them from destroying the ground below,” he explained.

Overhearing their conversation, Fayeth added a crucial piece of information. 

“These cages can only trap gods below level 4,” she mumbled, revealing a limitation in the cage’s design.

Her input provided a new perspective on the cage’s capabilities and limitations, suggesting that while it was a formidable tool for containment, it was not infallible or all-powerful.

Then, Michael turned to Fayeth. 

“Stand back,” said Michael calmly. He then positioned himself beside the cage and began to stomp on the ground with all his might. Each stomp was delivered with immense strength, causing the ground to crack and rumble under the force.

Ayag, watching the scene unfold with excitement, cheered him on. 

“Yeah! Smash it!” she exclaimed enthusiastically.

Sarba, however, was more cautious. 

“Careful. We don’t want to cause more chaos than necessary,” he advised, aware of the potential repercussions of their actions.

Meanwhile, Fayeth, understanding the urgency of the situation, quickly sprang into action. She cast a spell that materialized a large, translucent green hand. The hand pressed against the temple’s door, exerting a force that effectively barred it shut. This magical barrier prevented the guards outside from entering the temple, giving Michael the time and space he needed to break open the cage.

The combined efforts of Michael’s physical strength and Fayeth’s magical intervention created a powerful defense, ensuring they had control over the situation inside the temple.

As Michael continued to stomp, the ground beneath the cage began to break apart, each stomp sending cracks spider-webbing through the stone floor. 

 Amid the crumbling ground, Michael turned to Fayeth, his focus shifting. 

“The invitation from your goddess Ava to Fortuna’s gala, where is it?” he inquired, understanding its importance in their next move.

 “I have it with me, in my space ring.” Fayeth, still maintaining her composed demeanor despite the recent events, responded.

Then, surprisingly, her expression hardened with cold determination. 

“Go to the gala, and kill Rainar. End his tyranny,” she said, her voice firm and resolute.

Ayag, overhearing this, couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“Isn’t it a bit ironic? An angel of the Goddess of Healing talking about killing,” she jabbed playfully.

Fayeth, unfazed by the comment, explained with a sage-like wisdom. 

“Sometimes, amputating an arm is necessary to save a life. In the same way, taking one life can save many others.” Her analogy highlighted the harsh realities they faced and the difficult decisions that sometimes had to be made for the greater good.

Her words reflected a deeper understanding of the situation, acknowledging that even healing could require painful choices, and that sometimes the most compassionate act could involve a difficult sacrifice.

The hollow armor inside the cage finally gave way under Michael’s relentless stomping, tumbling into the crater he had created. He reached down into the cracks, carefully pulling out the armor from the rubble.

Fayeth watched, a slight hint of embarrassment in her tone as she admitted, 

“I thought for a moment you were actually trapped inside that cage.”

Michael let out a light chuckle, tapping the skull emblem at the center of the armor. As he did so, the armor began to shrink, folding in on itself until it was small enough to fit inside the skull medallion. He then placed the medallion around his neck, a symbol of his ingenuity and preparedness.

“I’m not stupid enough to rush into a fight without a plan,” Michael said with a smirk, highlighting his strategic approach to battles.

Ayag, perched on his shoulder, beamed with pride. 

“We use our brains just as much as our brawns,” she proclaimed, emphasizing the importance of intelligence and strategy in their endeavors.

“You can’t stay in Nimbosia any longer. It’s too dangerous. Go to Goldspire, seek refuge in Goddess Seshat’s kingdom,” he advised, his tone indicating the seriousness of her situation.

Fayeth sighed deeply, her sadness palpable as she thought about the temple reduced to rubble by the orc and Rainar’s men. 

“The temple… and the people of Nimbosia,” she murmured, her heart heavy with the thought of those she was leaving behind.

Ayag, always straightforward, interjected, 

“You’re no good to anyone dead. And we’re not the textbook heroes who will save the damsel in distress every time.” Her words, though blunt, carried an undeniable truth.

Fayeth let out a small chuckle, appreciating Ayag’s directness. 

“I suppose you’re right,” she conceded. Her gaze lingered on the temple ruins for a moment longer before she nodded in agreement, accepting the necessity of her departure.

“I’ll go to Goldspire,” Fayeth finally agreed, recognizing that her safety was paramount, and her presence in Nimbosia would only bring more danger to herself and potentially to others.

With a sense of resolve, Fayeth prepared to leave the place she had known, understanding the sacrifices she had to make for the greater good.

As the conversation reached a resolution, Michael shifted the focus back to their immediate objective. “The invitation to the gala, I’ll need it,” he said, extending his hand towards Fayeth.

Fayeth looked into Michael’s eyes, her expression serious. 

“If you truly intend to kill Rainar, which is unheard of, be prepared for the repercussions,” she warned. 

“The death of a god will create ripples across realms that no one can fathom.”

For a moment, Michael’s typically composed face turned serious, a rare occurrence that underscored the gravity of Fayeth’s words. He nodded solemnly, acknowledging the weight of what lay ahead.

“I’ve always done the impossible,” Michael responded with a steely resolve. 

“I’ve risen above everything thrown my way, and this time will be no different.” he finished calmly.

Fayeth, sensing his determination, offered a gesture of support. 

“May Goddess Ava’s blessing be with you,” she said softly. With a flick of her wrist, a golden invitation materialized in her hand. It shimmered with an ethereal light – the invitation to Goddess Fortuna’s gala.

She handed the invitation to Michael, who accepted it with a nod, understanding the significance of the artifact he now held. It was more than just a piece of paper; it was the key to their next move, a step closer to confronting Rainar and altering the course of this realm.

Sarba, perched attentively on Michael’s shoulder, eyed the invitation curiously. 

“This feels like a teleportation scroll infused within the invitation,” he observed, sensing the unique energy radiating from it.

“Yes. Anyone in possession of this invitation can teleport directly to Goddess Fortuna’s gala,” she confirmed, highlighting the invitation’s magical properties.

Then, she looked at Michael with a serious expression. 

“Be warned, the gala will be swarming with gods. Do not underestimate any of them,” she cautioned.

As usual, Michael responded with his calm demeanor. 

“I’m not planning to attend the gala in the usual sense. My aim is to observe and eliminate Rainar from a distance,” he explained, outlining his strategy.

Fayeth sighed, her concern for Michael evident. She reached out, grasping his hand gently. 

“Even though you’re a god, please be careful,” she urged him, her eyes reflecting her sincerity.

Hearing Fayeth’s genuine concern, Michael offered her a reassuring smile. 

“You don’t need to worry about me. To me, Rainar is just another target. Nothing more,” he said confidently, his words imbued with the assurance of a seasoned warrior.

His response seemed to bring a measure of comfort to Fayeth, even as the weight of the task ahead loomed over them.

Leading the way, Michael guided Fayeth to the divine portal room, a place where space and time seemed to converge. The air thrummed with latent energy, the walls adorned with ancient symbols that whispered of old magic. He adjusted the portal’s settings, tuning it to Goldspire, and with a deft motion of his hand, a swirling vortex materialized, its colors shifting and blending like a living kaleidoscope.

Turning to Fayeth, Michael offered a light-hearted farewell. 

“I’ll see you soon. And try not to get into any more trouble,” he joked, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

Fayeth, stepping towards the portal, glanced back at Michael and offered a small smile in return. 

“I’ll do my best,” she said, her voice tinged with gratitude. With a final wave, she stepped into the portal, her figure vanishing into the swirling vortex.

As the portal closed behind her, leaving the room in a momentary silence, Michael looked down at the invitation in his hand. 

“Now, let’s go to the gala of the gods,” he murmured to himself, his voice low but determined. The invitation, glowing faintly in his grasp, was his key to the next stage of his mission, a mission that held the fate of gods and mortals alike.