Hitman with a Badass System - Chapter 1348

Chapter 1348 Planning to Outsmart Michael

The name, uttered in a hushed whisper by the frozen Lady Elara, hit Michael like a thunderbolt.

"Don?" He echoed, his brow furrowing in disbelief. "The Ancient God... Don?"

It couldn't be.

Could it?

He'd met Don. Back in his Shadow Realm days, when he was still learning the ropes of his powers, he traveled through multiple universes and stumbled across Don's realm. Don himself was practically the main character in his own universe. As far as what Michael learned and observed, Don was a king who ruled a kingdom full of various races and threats that made ancient beasts look like babies. n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

"What the fuck?" Michael muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. It was one thing to jump between universes and witnessing various beings of power, including that damned asshole of a Dictator Hunter Blade. But it was another thing entirely to have the name of a being from another universe uttered in this universe, in this goddamn pocket dimension, by a terrified old woman frozen in a block of ice.

It was enough to make even a God of Darkness question the very fabric of reality.

"How the hell..." he trailed off, his gaze fixed on Elara's terrified face. "How did his blood end up here?"

And why?

He knew Andohr wouldn't have left something as powerful as the blood of an Ancient God just lying around. That manipulative bastard always had a plan, always ten steps ahead of everyone else. There was something else going on here, something bigger than just a petty power grab or a desperate attempt to contain him.

Michael's curiosity, always a dangerous trait in a being of his power, was piqued.

This... this he had to see.

Meanwhile, Devdan who was hidden in invisibility spell, felt a jolt of pure shock run through him.

"Don's blood?" he whispered, his voice barely audible even to himself. "They have Don's fucking blood?"

He knew about the Ancient Gods. Knew more than most, in fact. Most people in their world, even among the higher echelons of Skyhall, barely even acknowledged their existence. Ancient Gods were the stuff of legends, whispered about in hushed tones, their stories relegated to dusty, half-forgotten texts guarded by paranoid scholars and reclusive hermits in Skyhall and other organizations.

Not that Devdan blamed them. Information about the Ancient Gods was scarce, fragmented, often contradictory. Skyhall itself had long believed that Harriet Hunt, the Dark Lord's mother, carried the blood of an Ancient God in her veins. Arora, Don's wife, was the name they'd whispered in their secret chambers, the name they'd invoked in their desperate attempts to unravel the mysteries of her lineage.

But they'd found nothing. No trace of Ancient power, no hint of anything beyond the normal, albeit potent, celestial energy that flowed through Harriet's blood. Most had dismissed the theory, chalked it up to wishful thinking or the ramblings of senile old cultivators clinging to conspiracy theories

Not Devdan.

He'd always believed that just because something couldn't be proven, didn't mean it wasn't true. Especially when it came to matters of power, of ancient magic, of forces that were beyond their current understanding.

But now... now he had confirmation. Indirect, sure, but confirmation nonetheless. The Ancient Gods were real. And their blood... their blood was here.

"Those goddamn fools," he hissed, glaring at the frozen serpent. "Why the hell didn't they tell us? Why keep it locked away all these centuries?"

He knew, of course, that there had to be a reason. Something about the blood, something about its power, must have made even those arrogant Ancestors hesitate. But still...

"If anyone could have stopped the Dark Lord, besides that arrogant prick of a god Andohr, it would have been the blood of a goddamn Ancient God!" He cursed, his voice a low growl of frustration. According to the few scraps of text he'd managed to acquire, the Ancient Gods were beings of unimaginable power. They existed on a level that dwarfed even the most powerful gods of this realm. Their blood... it was practically a legend, a whispered promise of unimaginable power.

Right now, all that mattered was survival. And if betraying her comrades, handing over a key to some ancient power she barely understood, was the price she had to pay... well, so be it.

"What about the others?" Michael asked as a thick, deadly silence enveloped them. The elders in the serpent form looked at each other and none of them seemed to take the offer Michael gave them.

"Like hell we will!" one of the serpent's heads roared.

"You think we're stupid enough to fall for that shit? Give you the keys and die anyway? Fuck that!"

Michael's smile widened, a predatory gleam in his eyes. He'd expected this. Hope was a powerful motivator, sure. But when all hope was gone, when the only options were a quick death or a slow, agonizing one... well, even the most self-serving bastard would choose to go down swinging.

These were survivors, after all. They'd clawed their way to the top of the food chain, had outlived countless enemies, had endured hardships that would have broken lesser beings. And they weren't about to give up without a fight.

"Thought you might say that," Michael chuckled, shaking his head. "Like a cornered rat, aren't you? All teeth and desperation."

The serpent, its remaining heads snarling and snapping, lunged at Michael, its frozen body twisting and contorting in a grotesque parody of a strike.

But before they could even get close, Elara acted.

With a scream of mingled terror and defiance, she ripped herself free from the monstrous form, her body dissolving into a cloud of shimmering mist before solidifying a few feet away in her human form. The serpent, weakened by her sudden departure, recoiled, its movements even more sluggish now.

Two more figures followed suit and one of them was a tall, wiry elf with dark eyes and a cruel, thin-lipped smile and the other was a hulking bear like woman with gray hair.

However, they didn't even glance at Michael. Instead, they simply turned and ran, their bodies blurring as they activated whatever escape spells they could muster, desperate to get the hell out of dodge.

"Cowards!" one of the remaining heads roared, spitting a curse after them.

But Michael simply laughed.

"Running, are we?" he chuckled with amusement. Then, he simply raised a hand, and the air around him crackled with renewed power as he unleashed another wave of Frostbite.

This time, there was no escape.

The remaining three heads of the serpent, along with the two fleeing Ancestors, were encased in ice, their forms frozen solid, their expressions locked in masks of terror and desperate pleas.

Michael turned to Elara, who stood before him, trembling, her eyes wide with a terror that was almost comical.

"Where is it?" he asked, his voice deceptively calm. "Where's the vault?"

Elara, her body trembling, pointed a shaking finger towards one of the many floating palaces that dotted the ravaged landscape of the pocket dimension.

"There," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "In the heart of the Obsidian Palace. Follow me."

Meanwhile, Devdan who was watching the scene unfold from his hidden vantage point, smiled. He'd been right. The Dark Lord was his key, his unwitting guide to the ultimate prize.

"Lead the way, asshole," he murmured, already plotting his next move. He'd follow Michael, let the God of Darkness do the heavy lifting, break the seals, open the vault...

And then?

He had to trust himself and hope that his cunning and ruthlessness would be enough outsmart the God of Darkness.