Hitman With A Badass System

Chapter 1254  Art of assassination

After leaving the griffins to digest the gravity of their upcoming roles in her daring plan, Gaya made her way back to the City of Goldspire. Upon reaching their shared quarters, she found Michael engrossed in his alchemy, a series of ingredients levitating and swirling into the dark flames that danced above his open palms.

"What's cooking?" Gaya quipped as she leaned against the doorframe, watching the sparks fly from the concoction.

Without missing a beat, Michael glanced up, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Just a little something to tip the scales in our favor against Borgin Ironfist. If this works, he'll be as weak as a newborn kitten."

Gaya chuckled and made her way to sit on the edge of their bed, her mind still replaying the day's events. "The griffins are on board, though it took some convincing—and a bit of divine intervention," she began, her tone laced with a mix of amusement and relief.

Michael's interest piqued, he paused his potion brewing for a moment. "Divine intervention, huh? That sounds serious. Everything go according to plan?"

She sighed, shaking her head slightly. "Well, it's more like I had to pull rank on them. And you wouldn't believe who showed up out of the blue—Mr. 'I'm too noble to get my feathers dirty' decided to grace us with his presence."

"Ah, the elder griffin? How's that old bird still flapping around?" Michael asked, his curiosity evident.

Gaya snorted, "Still as stubborn and judgmental as ever. Called me out on my 'crazy' plan. But I gave them those teleportation amulets you made. Just in case things go sideways."

Michael nodded, turning back to his potion. "Good thinking. We need all the insurance we can get with this lot."

"Yeah," Gaya agreed, laying back on the bed and staring at the ceiling. "It's all set now. Just hope these griffins can stick to the plan without causing a bigger mess."

Michael, his hands once again busy with the potion, glanced back over his shoulder. "With you leading them? They'd be more scared to screw up and face your wrath than anything Borgin Ironfist could throw at them."

A smirk curled at the corners of Gaya's mouth. "Damn right. Let's just hope it's enough to take that bastard down a peg or two."

As the essence coalesced into a green glob above the flickering flames, Gaya wrinkled her nose, peering curiously at Michael's work. "How do you plan to get Borgin to swallow this? It reeks. He'll sniff it out miles away." n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

Michael remained unfazed, a calm smile playing on his lips. "That's exactly why we need to draw him into an environment that stinks more than this potion. There, we can vaporize it, and he won't have a choice but to inhale it."

Gaya mulled over the idea, her expression a mix of admiration and skepticism. "Clever. But this assassination plan seems to be getting more bloated by the minute."

Michael's chuckle resonated in the room, rich and amused. "That's because it's an assassination, not a straightforward murder. There's an art to it, a finesse." He paused, his gaze meeting hers as he explained further. "It's about the thrill of the hunt, the challenge of weaving through layers of protection to strike at the heart of the target. And doing it in such a way that it leaves no trace back to you, only rumors and fear in its wake."

Gaya leaned back, absorbing his words, a newfound appreciation for the intricacies of their plan dawning on her. "When you put it that way, it does sound rather... exhilarating."

Michael's smile widened, his eyes sparkling with the thrill of the challenge. "It's the ultimate game of cat and mouse. And in this game, we're not just any cats. We're the shadow that moves unseen, the whisper of doubt in the dark."

The air between them charged with the excitement of their shared conspiracy, Gaya couldn't help but be drawn into Michael's vision. The dangers they faced, the complexity of their scheme, all seemed to melt away, leaving only the pulse-quickening thrill of the chase.

"Alright," she said, a determined glint in her eye. "Let's make sure our mouse walks right into our trap, stench and all."

Michael nodded, his focus returning to the potion. "With our cunning and these griffins on our side, Borgin Ironfist won't know what hit him."

With the potion ready, Michael and Gaya knew the real challenge lay ahead: crafting a plan that would not only draw Borgin Ironfist out but also ensure he was in the right place at the right time for their trap to spring. The leader of the beast tamers was no fool, and enticing him away from his original quarry—the griffins—would require both subtlety and ingenuity.

Recognizing the need for precise information, Michael reached for his earpiece, connecting with Pink, their tech-savvy ally, whose skills in hacking and information gathering were unparalleled. "Pink, we need your expertise," Michael began, his voice low and urgent. "Find us a location within Sagespire that reeks enough to mask the scent of this potion. Then, we need bait, something that'll draw Borgin's attention more than the griffins. Think rare beast, something irresistible."

On the other end, Pink's fingers danced over her console, her mind already racing through potential targets and locations. "On it," she replied, her voice crackling with focus. "Sagespire's no small place, but I'll comb through every dirty secret it hides. Give me a moment."

As Michael and Gaya awaited her response, they contemplated the complexity of their plan. Drawing Borgin away from his initial target would require something truly exceptional—a creature of such rarity and value that even the seasoned hunter couldn't resist.

Minutes ticked by, filled with anticipation and the low hum of Michael's potion still shimmering with potential. Finally, Pink's voice returned, triumphant. "Got something. The old distillery district in Sagespire. Place has been abandoned for ages, smells like a giant left his socks out in the rain. As for the bait," she paused, a note of excitement creeping into her voice, "I found records of a recent capture, a Phoenix. Last of its kind, rumored to be in the area. If anything can draw Borgin out, it's the chance to claim such a prize."

Michael and Gaya exchanged a look, understanding the stakes. A Phoenix, a creature of legend and fire, would undoubtedly lure Borgin Ironfist from his pursuit of the griffins. The distillery district, with its pungent aroma and maze of abandoned buildings, would serve as the perfect stage for their ambush.

"Excellent work, Pink," Michael said, his voice edged with satisfaction. "We've got our location and our lure. Now, we just need to set the trap and wait for Borgin to take the bait."

Gaya nodded, her mind already racing through the logistics of their plan. "Let's get everything in place. Borgin won't know what hit him."

Gaya's thoughts lingered on the Phoenix, the gravity of its situation settling heavily upon her shoulders. The idea that such a majestic creature could be the last of its kind tugged at her conscience, a stark reminder of her role and responsibilities as the Goddess of Monsters.

Michael, ever the pragmatist, shrugged off her concerns with a casual. "Shit happens." He gestured broadly, encompassing the mysteries and unexplained events of their world. "Whole dragon clans have vanished without a trace in the mortal realm, and we're still in the dark about it. These things happen, Gaya. You know that."

But Gaya wasn't so easily dissuaded. Shaking her head, she countered, "That was before I understood my role. Before I realized I'm the Goddess of Monsters. Doesn't that make their well-being my responsibility?"

In response, Michael moved to sit beside her, an arm wrapping comfortingly around her shoulders. "You're taking this goddess thing a bit too seriously," he said gently. His tone was soothing, but his words were chosen to challenge her perspective gently.

Gaya rolled her eyes, a mix of frustration and affection coloring her response. "Easy for you to say. You're the God of Darkness. Darkness doesn't have life forms counting on it for survival." Her words carried the weight of her newfound duty, the pressure of expectations—both her own and those of the creatures she felt compelled to protect. "I'm the one getting called incompetent by freaking griffins."

Michael offered her a small, understanding smile, his gaze softening. "Being a goddess doesn't mean you can do anything you want or feel responsible for every monster and beast out there. It's about balance, Gaya. Not every battle is yours to fight, and not every creature can be saved by your hand alone."

His words, though difficult to accept, held a truth that Gaya knew she needed to hear. The role of a deity was fraught with limitations and challenges, and part of her journey was learning where those boundaries lay. Michael's reminder served as a gentle nudge back to reality, a reality where their immediate concern was Borgin Ironfist and the safety of the griffins—a task already monumental in its scope and complexity.

With a heavy sigh, Gaya leaned into Michael's embrace, allowing herself a moment of vulnerability. "I suppose you're right," she admitted, the fight draining from her voice. "Let's focus on the task at hand. We can worry about the fate of the Phoenix and the rest later."

After solidifying their plan, Michael and Gaya knew that securing the Phoenix was crucial to luring Borgin Ironfist into their trap. Michael turned to Gaya, determination etched on his face. "Let's go find that Phoenix. We need to make sure it leads Borgin right to the old distillery district."

With a shared sense of purpose, they exited their room and made their way through the bustling streets of the City of Goldspire. The city was alive with the myriad activities of its inhabitants, the air filled with the sounds of commerce, conversation, and the distant clang of metal from the smithies.

As they navigated the crowded thoroughfares, heading towards the distillery district, their path crossed with a group of knights from the Order of Seshat. The knights, recognizable by their distinctive armor and the symbols of knowledge and wisdom emblazoned on their shields, moved with a purposeful stride through the city.