Hitman with a Badass System

1264  Contract On Torug, Rainar’s Clone Creating Orc

When Jin entered the tavern designated for Death Merchant newbies, he was visibly taken aback. The sight of Michael, known as the god of darkness, sitting there reignited memories of their harrowing encounter in the dungeon, where Jin had narrowly escaped having his soul absorbed by Valorix.

Quick to regain his composure, Jin masked his initial shock, keenly aware of the unspoken rule in the guild: never reveal too much. In this den of assassins, secrets were currency, and trust was a rare commodity.

“Hey kiddo, meet our new newbies,” Clint said, introducing Michael and Gaya as Jin made his way over and took a seat next to Michael.

“Hello, Jin,” Michael greeted him with a calm nod, recognizing the assassin from their shared past ordeal.

“You two know each other?” Clint inquired, picking up on the undercurrent of familiarity.

“Yeah, we had a run-in in the dungeon back in Aurumvale,” Gaya added, her voice steady despite the internal conflict she felt about the griffin and its dying wish.

“Great. But in here, remember, there are no friends. Just fellow assassins.” Clint, with a knowing smile, reminded them.

Michael acknowledged Clint’s advice with a nod, his attention then returning to the parchments laid out before him. Scanning through the contracts, one in particular caught his eye.

“I’ll be damned,” he murmured, examining a portrait of an orc in his grasp. This orc was a servant of Rainar, someone Michael had encountered before, during a frantic battle to reach Celestial Valley and save Gaya. He remembered that the last time they met, he had dealt with Rainar’s soldiers and what he thought was the orc, but it had been only clones; the real one was still out there.

“Torug… Angel of Rainar,” Michael said, recognizing the name and the potential for closure that this contract offered.

 “Torug, huh? He’s been causing chaos in Nimbosia with his crew since Rainar’s fall. They’re a nasty bunch, especially now that they’ve lost their god. Makes them unpredictable and dangerous.” Clint added.

Curious about the broader implications, Gaya asked, “Speaking of Rainar, what’s the latest in Nimbosia?” It was clear that Clint, ever informed, had his finger on the pulse of the wider world’s events.

“Care for a round?” Clint, while cleaning a glass cup, casually offered. Then he poured wine for Jin, glancing at Michael and Gaya for their preference. “I don’t drink.” Michael gestured.

“Good for you,” Clint responded, a hint of surprise in his voice, adding with a chuckle, “Don’t expect me to have juices, though.”

Michael smiled as Clint got back to their earlier conversation. “About Torug,” Clint began, filling them in, “After Rainar’s death, he’s been on a rampage. Rumor has it he’s searching for the god of darkness.” Jin shifted uncomfortably at the mention, aware of Michael’s true identity sitting beside him.

“Why’s that?” Gaya, feigning ignorance, asked.

Clint leaned in, lowering his voice a bit, “There’s talk in the pantheon that the god of darkness might have killed Rainar. Hard to believe, right? Everyone thought a god couldn’t be killed, but with no rain in Nimbosia or anywhere else, it’s pretty clear Rainar is gone.”

He then leaned back, a wry smile crossing his face. “If the god of darkness really did off Rainar, he’s the greatest assassin ever. People here can’t even figure out how he pulled it off.”

While glancing at the contract, Michael’s eyes were drawn to the contract’s reward section, noting the payout of 100,000 gold coins and 1,000 Guild points. As Gaya browsed through the stack of parchments, she remarked on the disparity in the bounties offered. “Look at these. Some are paying a million coins!” she pointed out, her surprise evident.

Michael glanced over, his attention caught by the discrepancy in rewards. “That’s because those contracts offer fewer guild points. The tougher the job, the more guild points you get, but the gold is less. Here, guild points are worth more than gold.” Clint noticed their interest and explained.

 “So, hitting the big leagues means stacking up on these guild points, huh?” Michael nodded, understanding the currency of prestige within the guild’s economy.

 “Exactly. You need 10,000 guild points to get to the second floor. Up there, the contracts are juicier, the rewards bigger, and the guild gives you better goodies the higher you climb.” Clint affirmed.

The conversation illuminated the guild’s inner workings, showing Michael and Gaya the path to ascend within its ranks and the importance of prioritizing guild points over gold to advance their status and access more lucrative opportunities.

“How many floors are in this guild?” Michael inquired, his curiosity piqued.

“Six,” Clint replied, polishing a glass. “Damien’s on the fifth. No one’s hit the sixth level in quite some time.”

Taking this in, Michael mentally noted the need to climb higher in the ranks, seeing it as a challenge to his skills and ambitions.

“What kind of perks come with reaching higher levels?” Gaya, intrigued by the conversation, asked.

He set down the glass, leaning in slightly. “Well, it varies. Perks range from mundane stuff like free houses and custom-made armors to rare cultivation resources. At level five, there’s even a perk that can bring you back from the dead if you die on a job.”

“Bring someone back from death, is that even possible?” Gaya asked, her shock evident.

Clint chuckled at her astonishment, then leaned in to explain, “The Death Merchants was founded by Death himself. He controls Death, and for him, bringing someone back is as simple as lifting his finger.”

“Has anyone actually seen him?” Michael, intrigued and as a god himself curious about the aspects of death, queried.

Clint laughed, shaking his head. “You don’t just ‘see’ Death and live to talk about it. Meeting Death means exactly that—you die. That’s the end of the story.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “Death is unique. He’s part of the pantheon, but not many gods have seen him, let alone mortals.”

Clint reminisced about his own experiences with deities. “In my lifetime, I’ve only seen a few gods – Seshat, Fortuna, and Luxor. These three are considered to be kinder, showing themselves to their worshippers now and then. But the other gods,” he snorted. “They’re just jerks, hardly ever showing their faces or caring about us mortals.”

Hearing Clint’s musings, Jin couldn’t resist interjecting. “Don’t be too sure, Clint. Some gods walk among us.” His eyes flickered briefly towards Michael, a subtle hint at the hidden truth.

Clint, oblivious to the deeper meaning of Jin’s words, just chuckled and responded with a light-hearted jest. “The day I learn I’ve had a drink with a god, I’ll go bald and shave off this magnificent beard.”

“You must really like that beard, huh?”  Gaya grinned and teased.

“Since you’ve chosen Torug’s contract,” Clint began, his tone shifting to business, “this card will take you straight to Nimbosia.” He then produced a cube and a seal, pressing the seal onto the contract, leaving a skull imprint, symbolizing the deadly nature of their task. He asked for their cards, placing them on the cube. For a moment, the cards shimmered, pulsating with an unseen energy, signifying their activation for the journey ahead.

Clint leaned back, offering a bit of insight into their destination. “Nimbosia’s a mess right now,” he said, pouring another drink. “After Rainar’s tyrannical rule, some nobles are trying to rebuild, but there’s division everywhere. Some still worship Rainar, hoping for his return or a successor, while others believe he’s not really gone. You’ve got different factions vying for power.”

He paused, locking eyes with Michael and Gaya. “If I were you, I’d start with getting the lay of the land, find out where Torug fits into this chaos. Take him out quietly, if you can.”

Michael and Gaya stood up, acknowledging the advice. “We’ll touch base after we deal with the orc,” Gaya declared confidently.

Michael, tapping into his celestial power, infused a sliver of energy into the card. The guild’s bustling atmosphere faded as an invisible bubble formed around them, whisking them away to their next mission in the troubled lands of Nimbosia, leaving the shadowy haven of the Death Merchants behind.

Arriving in an alleyway of Nimbosia, Michael and Gaya were struck by the transformation of the kingdom. Gone were the days of relentless rain and flooding that once defined the city’s landscape. Now, the streets were parched, with only the oppressive weight of dark clouds and the occasional lightning strike to break the monotony of the dry spell.

“This is Nimbosia, huh? Kinda looks gloomy and fucked up,” Gaya surveyed the scene, her expression one of disdain. At that moment, Michael felt a buzz in his ear, signaling a call from Pink. However, it was Ayag who spoke, her tone laced with impatience. “Ghost, what the fuck are you still doing? We’re getting bored out of our three heads here.”

“I’m in Nimbosia. Hang tight, we’ll swing by and pick you up after we deal with Rainar’s orc buddy.” Michael, suppressing a chuckle, responded.

Ayag’s surprise was evident in her voice. “You mean the clone creating asshole who’s dodged death every damn time?” she asked, seeking clarification.

“Yeah, the very same. His name is Torug, by the way,” Michael replied.

Ayag’s response was dismissive. “I don’t give a fuck about his name. Just hurry up and get us. I wanna see that orc bite the dust.”

“Alright, I’ll come and get you,” Michael assured Ayag. Unbeknownst to him, in just two days, he would be required to return to the mortal realm, marking the beginning of a pivotal shift in his journey. From that moment on, the consequences of his past actions would start to unravel, coming back to haunt him in ways he couldn’t yet anticipate.

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