Hitman with a Badass System - #1164 - 1164 Zorian, The God Of the Sun.

The next morning, as the first rays of sunlight touched the sky, Michael reached his chosen sniper nest. Nestled high in the dense foliage of a tall tree, he settled into position, taking out his crossbow crafted from the ancient centipede’s collarbone. With the crossbow in hand, he kept a vigilant watch on the gala entrance.

Below, the area outside the dome had been transformed. A red carpet rolled out, flanked by vibrant flowers and elaborate decorations, all set to welcome the gods to the gala. The scene was a spectacular display of celestial grandeur.

From his vantage point, Michael noticed a blue-haired goddess leading a procession of angels clad in pink armor. 

“She might be Fortuna,” Michael surmised, observing her demeanor and the respect she commanded. 

Through the scope of his crossbow, Michael scanned the arriving gods. Each god presented a unique aura, their divine presence unmistakable. He relayed his observations to Ayag, Sarba, and Pink, who were comfortably perched on his shoulder.

“Fortuna has just arrived, leading her angels. The gods are beginning to gather,” he reported quietly, his eyes never leaving the scope.

“This is it, then. The stage is set,” Ayag said, her tone a mix of anticipation and tension.

“Keep a sharp eye out for Rainar. He won’t be far behind.” Sarba added.

Through the crossbow’s scope, Michael’s attention was drawn to several notable figures. He spotted a charismatic god with mismatched eyes, one green and one blue, whom he had seen the night before but didn’t know by name. Nearby, the god clad in dark robes caught his eye again, along with Seshat, who stood out with her calm, scholarly demeanor.

“Why are all these gods getting welcomed again? Weren’t they already inside the dome, having their fun? What’s with this whole welcome parade?” Ayag voiced her confusion.

Michael let out a light chuckle, finding humor in Ayag’s observation. 

“This is the official start of the gala. It seems like gods are no different than rich nobles when it comes to such events. They enjoy the grandeur and ceremony just as much,” he remarked, amused by the similarities between gods and mortal customs.

As he watched, Pink’s voice crackled through the communication device, her excitement palpable. 

“I’ve just found a book with details of the gods. Describe them to me, and I’ll try to identify who they are,” she said, the sound of rustling pages accompanying her words.

Hearing her, Michael adjusted his scope, focusing on each god. 

“There’s one here with a crown resembling a fox and eyes of different colors,” he reported, observing the god’s playful demeanor.

“That’s Lathander, the God of Mischief, known for his whimsy and trickery,” Pink quickly responded, her fingers skimming through the pages of the book.

Shifting his attention, Michael described another figure. “And there’s a god in dark robes, emanating a sense of decay.”

“That would be Morbus, the God of Plagues. He’s often depicted in dark attire,” Pink clarified, her tone taking on a slight edge.

Michael then spotted a majestic figure. “Here’s one wearing golden armor, with a golden halo radiating around him.”

“That must be Valorius, the God of Valor,” Pink identified. “His presence is often associated with heroism and bravery.”

Michael continued, “I also see a goddess with flowers in her hair, radiating life.”

“Ah, that must be Flora, the Goddess of Nature and Growth,” Pink deduced, flipping through the pages.

As Michael relayed the appearances of each god, Pink matched them with their names and domains from the book.

Ayag, unable to contain her curiosity, nudged her way into Michael’s line of sight and peered through the scope of his crossbow. 

“Still no sign of Rainar,” she observed, scanning the gathering of deities below.

“Is there a chance Rainar heard about what happened in Nimbosia and decided to skip the gala?” Sarba asked with his voice filled with concern.

“It’s unlikely. Rainar wouldn’t miss an event of this magnitude. He’s too invested in his image among the other gods,” said Michael.

Suddenly, Ayag’s attention was drawn to a new arrival. 

“Kranar is here!” she exclaimed excitedly, spotting the familiar figure of the God of Lightning.

Gently moving Ayag aside, Michael took his turn to look through the scope. His eyes focused on Kranar, who was making his way towards the gala, his presence unmistakable and commanding.

As the gala continued, the sky above began to grow brighter, illuminated by a golden light that intensified with each passing moment. Sarba, sensitive to energy fluctuations, alerted Michael. 

“I’m sensing energy levels off the charts,” he said, his tone tinged with awe.

Michael, too, could feel the thick, almost palpable energy enveloping the area, accompanied by a gentle warmth in the air. He looked up, and through the scope, he saw a figure descending towards the gala. It was a muscular old man with flowing white hair and a thick beard, his physique radiating strength and ageless power.

Pink’s voice came through the earpiece, curious and expectant. “What are you seeing, Ghost?”

Michael described the scene. “There’s an old man, well-built, descending from the sky. He’s… incredibly powerful.” He noticed an overwhelming, pulsating red aura surrounding the old man, signaling a level of power that even surpassed his own.

“Hold on, give me a moment,” Pink responded, her voice trailing off as she presumably flipped through her book.

After a prolonged silence, Pink’s voice returned, now laced with a grave tone. 

“That’s Zorian, the God of the Sun. One of the strongest and oldest gods in the pantheon. This changes things…” Her words hung heavy in the air, underscoring the significance of Zorian’s presence at the gala.

“Since I know you’re not going to back down, you must make a quick escape after killing Rainar, before Zorian even catches a glimpse of you,” Pink’s voice, now edged with urgency, came through the earpiece. 

Ayag, her curiosity piqued, wondered about Zorian’s level of godhood. 

“What level god is he? How powerful are we talking about here?” asked Ayag.

Pink responded, her tone suggesting she was scanning the book for information. 

“The book doesn’t specify his exact level, but he’s likely either a Level 5 Celestial God or a Level 6 Elden God.”

There was a brief pause before Pink continued, her voice laced with a stark realism.

 “Either way, we are not even remotely close to taking down either of them, no matter which level Zorian is in. This makes our mission even more precarious.”

Despite the revelation about Zorian’s presence, Michael remained his usual calm self. Through the communication device, he conveyed his unwavering resolve. 

“This doesn’t change anything. Today, Rainar will die, and no god, not even Zorian, will be able to stop that.” he stated firmly. 

Pink, on the other end, let out a chuckle, though it was clear she was masking her worry. 

“So, you plan to continue your hundred percent assassination success rate here too, huh?” she said, her voice carrying a mix of admiration and concern.

Michael, with a slight smile in his voice, responded confidently, 

“Exactly. My reputation is on the line, after all.” His statement was more than just bravado but it was a testament to his skill and determination.

At the gala, amidst the gathering of gods, a respectful hush fell over the crowd as Fortuna, the Goddess of Luck, stepped forward to welcome Zorian. She greeted him with a reverence that reflected his stature among the pantheon. 

“Welcome, Zorian, the God of the Sun. Your presence honors us,” she said, her voice carrying a blend of respect and admiration.

Zorian, towering and authoritative, greeted Fortuna in return, his tone calm yet commanding. 

“Thank you, Fortuna. It is a gathering worthy of the gods,” he replied, his words echoing through the silent assembly.

All eyes were on Zorian as he scanned the crowd, his gaze finally resting on Kranar. 

“I have been watching your war with Rainar. The pantheon is not pleased with this disruption. It reflects poorly on us all,” he said, his voice resonant and firm.

Even Kranar, known for his defiance, remained silent, offering no retort to Zorian’s remark. The usual air of confidence around him seemed subdued in Zorian’s presence.

Zorian’s gaze then shifted as he inquired about Rainar. 

“Where is Rainar?” he asked, his question directed at Fortuna.

“He should be here in a few minutes,” Fortuna replied, her tone neutral yet respectful.

Zorian snickered at her response, his voice laced with a hint of contempt. 

“So, the lesser gods now think arriving late is the new trend,” he remarked, his comment highlighting the subtle hierarchies and dynamics at play among the gods.

At that moment, the atmosphere within the gala shifted palpably as Rainar made his entrance. His tall and muscular stature immediately drew the attention of everyone present, dwarfing the other gods in comparison. He exuded an aura of power and authority, his presence alone commanding the space.

Upon noticing Rainar’s arrival, Zorian slowly turned around to face him. His gaze was cold and piercing, cutting through the air like a sharp blade. There was a palpable tension between the two gods, felt by everyone in their vicinity.

In a voice that resonated with power and reprimand, Zorian addressed Rainar, 

“Gods should be benevolent, not tyrants.” As he spoke, Zorian’s form began to transform. He grew taller and more muscular, his figure expanding to dwarf even Rainar himself. This physical change was not just a show of might but a symbolic assertion of his authority and disapproval of Rainar’s actions.

From his sniper nest, Michael watched the scene unfold through his scope. As Rainar settled into the gathering, Michael murmured to himself with a focused intensity. 

“The target is in sight,” said Michael.