Hitman with a Badass System - Chapter 1430

As Alyndra led Michael and Gaya towards the imposing gates of the Silver Citadel, two guards, their armor gleaming under the light, stepped forward, blocking their path. Without a word, Alyndra simply flicked her wrist, producing a small, silver card that shimmered with a faint, ethereal light.

One of the guards, his expression impassive, took the card and walked towards a strange device—a cube crafted from polished gold, its surface etched with intricate runes that pulsed with a soft, blue light. He swiped the card through a slot on the cube's surface, a soft chime echoing in the still night air. The cube beeped, a green light flashing on its surface. The guard, his expression unchanged, returned the card to Alyndra.

"Are these humans with you, Young Miss?" he inquired, his voice flat, devoid of emotion.

"They do not have their own keys, darling," Alyndra purred, her voice dripping with a sarcastic sweetness. "But they will be staying with me, only for a night or two, depends on how they perform."

The guards did not question her further. They simply nodded, their gazes flickering towards Michael and Gaya for a fleeting moment before returning to their posts. The massive gates, with a low groan that echoed through the silent plaza, swung inward, revealing the opulence that lay within.

Michael and Gaya exchanged a look. No identity checks, no body searches, no questions. It was strange. Either the security here was lax, or they had other methods of ensuring that no one drew a weapon or caused trouble inside. Given everything they had seen so far, Michael and Gaya were betting on the latter.

They followed Alyndra through the gates, stepping into the heart of the Silver Citadel. The interior was breathtaking: a vast, circular chamber, its ceiling lost in the shadows hundreds of feet above, opened before them. Around them, spiraling upwards, were levels, and floors, each one connected by sweeping staircases and balconies that overlooked the central space. The first floor was a marketplace, a bazaar filled with stalls and shops, their wares glittering under the soft light of glowing crystals. But unlike the shops outside, these were different—more exclusive, more expensive. Above the marketplace, however, the design changed. The open balconies vanished, replaced by rows of closed doors, solid and imposing, each one crafted from dark wood and adorned with silver handles. It looked more like apartments, residences. It was like a city within a city, a vertical metropolis built within the confines of a single, massive structure.

"This place is fucking insane," Gaya muttered, her voice filled with grudging admiration.

"It is something," Michael agreed, his gaze sweeping across the chamber, his mind racing, trying to process the sheer scale of it all.

"Follow me," Alyndra instructed, her voice curt, her earlier playfulness gone, replaced by a businesslike tone.

Michael and Gaya followed her, their footsteps echoing on the polished floor. As they walked, they took in more details of the shops that lined the first floor. They passed a boutique displaying gowns of shimmering silk, a jeweler whose windows glittered with gems of every color imaginable, and a perfumery, its air thick with the scent of exotic flowers. Everything was opulent and extravagant, designed to cater to the whims of the wealthy and powerful.

They reached a grand, sweeping staircase, crafted from the same polished white stone as the bridge outside. But before they could ascend, an elf, his robes a rich gold, his hair a cascade of silver, stepped forward, intercepting them.

"Alyndra," he greeted, his voice smooth and polite, but with an undercurrent of urgency.

Alyndra stopped, her hand resting on the banister. "What is it, Faeranduil?" she asked, her tone impatient.

The elf, Faeranduil, though clearly intrigued by Michael and Gaya, ignored them, his gaze fixed on Alyndra. He extended a parchment towards her, sealed with a blob of crimson wax. Without a word, Alyndra took the parchment, broke the seal, and read. Her expression, which had been casual and playful only moments before, hardened. Her eyes narrowed, her lips pressed into a thin line.

She turned to her guards, her voice sharp and commanding. "Lead these two to my room," she ordered, her gaze flickering toward Michael and Gaya. "It seems business calls. I will be delayed." She turned back to Michael and Gaya, a seductive smile playing on her lips.

"Wait for me," she purred.

"We will continue this later." Then, turning back to the guards, she added, in a voice that brooked no argument, "And make sure they stay put. I am not in the mood for games."

The guards nodded, their expressions stoic and unreadable.

"Follow us," one of them instructed, his voice flat and emotionless, his gaze lingering on Michael and Gaya with a hint of disdain. They clearly were not thrilled with the prospect of babysitting two humans.

Exchanging a knowing glance, Michael and Gaya followed the guards, climbing the grand staircase, leaving Alyndra behind. They moved through the corridors of the second floor, past rows of identical doors, each one ornate and imposing until they reached a door marked with the number 125. One of the guards, his hand glowing with a faint, blue light, pressed his palm against the door. His senses were on high alert, Michael felt a surge of energy, a subtle vibration in the air, as the runes on the door activated, glowing with a soft, golden light. The door clicked open.

"Get in," the guard said, his voice gruff and unwelcoming. "And do not even think about trying anything funny."

Michael and Gaya stepped inside, the door slamming shut behind them. The room was luxurious—a vast space filled with plush furniture, expensive artwork, and all the amenities a spoiled, entitled elf could desire. A king-sized bed, draped in silk sheets, dominated the center of the room. A fireplace, crafted from polished marble, crackled merrily on one wall. A balcony, overlooking the city below, offered a breathtaking view. It was opulent, extravagant, and utterly tasteless.

"Shit," Gaya agreed, her gaze sweeping over the luxurious surroundings. "This place is on another level." She bounced onto the bed, the silk sheets rustling beneath her.

"So, what is the plan, human? We cannot exactly bang that elf."

Michael rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "She is connected, Gaya—arrogant, spoiled, used to getting what she wants." He paused, a sly grin spreading across his face. "We are not going to fight her. We are going to use her."

Gaya frowned. "Use her? How?"

"She wants us, right?" Michael stated, his grin widening. "A threesome, or whatever. We are not going to actually do it, of course, but we will make her think we did. We will ingrain it in her mind, make her believe she had the most amazing night of her life, and then we will have her wrapped around our little fingers."

"I like it," Gaya admitted, her eyes gleaming with a mischievous light. "But it is also kinda fucked up, playing with her mind like that."

Michael chuckled. "It is fucked up that she tried to buy me for sex, Gaya, like I am some common whore."

Alyndra was a homewrecker, a spoiled brat who had ruined countless lives. She had stolen lands, destroyed businesses, and broken up families, all for her own amusement and gratification. She was used to getting what she wanted, no matter the cost or who got hurt. This was karma, a little payback for all the misery she had inflicted on others.

And besides, they needed her. They needed her access to the Silver Citadel, not just for this mission but for the future. Michael had a feeling, a gut feeling, that they would need a contact in Luxor, someone on the inside, someone who could navigate the treacherous waters of elven politics. And Alyndra, for all her flaws, was the perfect candidate.

"How the hell do you plan on pulling that off?" Gaya asked, a skeptical look on her face.

Michael just chuckled, a knowing glint in his eyes. "I have my ways, darling."

And indeed he did. No need for any messy physical entanglements. Michael smirked inwardly as he thought of the System's capabilities. With enough badass points,a and a bit of memory weaving, Alyndra would be eating out of their fucking hands. He planned to craft a series of vivid, intensely pleasurable "memories" in her mind – sensations, touches, whispers, the whole damn nine yards. He would make her believe she'd had the most mind-blowing, earth-shattering, toe-curling night of her life with both of them.

He would make it so real, so visceral, that she'd swear on her ancestors' pointy ears that it actually happened. The arrogant bitch would be utterly convinced she had experienced something transcendent, something she couldn't live without. From then on, Alyndra, the spoiled little shit, would be putty in their hands, dancing to whatever tune they decided to play.

"When we are done with her, we could just delete her memories of us and let her do whatever she wants,"