Hitman with a Badass System

Having no idea Michael was watching over her like a guardian angel – or a guardian dark lord, Gaya focused on the task at hand.

She whistled again, a sharper, more urgent sound, and the slimes, sensing her command, began to swarm towards the approaching figures.

Slimes. They weren't exactly the most intimidating creatures. Low-level, practically mindless blobs of… well, slime. Most of them barely even registered on the cultivation scale, stuck at the Initiate Realm – the equivalent of magical toddlers.

But what they lacked in brains and brawn, they made up for in… numbers. And sheer, annoying persistence.

Slimes could reproduce like crazy. One slime, given enough time could create a hundred more. There were acid slimes, capable of dissolving clothes and armor, though not to the extent those pervy Japanese anime liked to show those scenes where the slime melts the girl's clothes just enough to make her blush and create some cringeworthy, fan-service bullshit. Then there were watery slimes, which could, shockingly enough, turn into water. Slippery slimes, which could create slippery pools of goo. Digestive slimes, which were great for breaking down garbage, and were often used by alchemists and cultivators for… waste management purposes.

Their value, however, was limited. Their abundance, their easy reproduction, meant that they were… common. Expendable.

But there was one thing that made slimes… useful.

They were incredibly difficult to kill with physical attacks. Sure, you could crush them, stomp on them, hack them to pieces… but unless you obliterated them completely, reduced them to vapor… they'd just… reform. Most cultivators, faced with a swarm of these gelatinous annoyances, simply resorted to… spells. A simple fireball, a blast of ice, a well-placed lightning bolt… that was usually enough to take care of the problem.

And that was exactly why Gaya loved them.

In the realm of the Gods, gauging an opponent's strength was a tricky business. You couldn't just… look at someone and know their cultivation level like you could in the mortal realm. Not without some serious artifacts, anyway.

But if you forced them to use their powers…

Well, that was a different story.

Slimes were practically begging to be blasted with magic. And watching how someone reacted to a horde of slimes… their first instinct, their choice of spell, their speed, their precision… it gave Gaya a pretty good idea of what she was dealing with.

And while her opponents were busy frying slimes, she could quickly stab in the back, fire a poisoned dart and do a strategically placed explosion…

In simple terms, hit and run. That was her new motto.

Meanwhile, the scout who had planted the blinking red light rejoined the group, his steps cautious as he approached their position.

"Didn't see any wraiths," he reported, his voice a low murmur. "And… no sign of the Phoenix."

"Maybe it's hiding?" the blonde woman suggested, her gaze scanning the surrounding rooftops.

"Or maybe it flew off," the smoker said with a shrug. "Either way, we need to check this place out. Together. This whole damn district gives me the creeps." ℞àＮỖ𝐛Êș

But before he could finish his sentence, one of the men, a tall, lanky fellow with a shaved head and a goatee, held up a hand, his expression suddenly alert.

"Shut up," he hissed. "Do you hear that?"

The others, their senses on high alert, froze, listening intently. At first, there was nothing but the usual sounds of the Distillery District – the wind whistling through broken windows, the creaking of decaying timbers, the distant scuttling of rats. A moment later, they all heard it. A faint rustling sound, like… like a thousand tiny feet skittering across the cobblestones.

The rustling grew louder, closer, and then… they saw them.

A wave of… something… emerging from the shadows, flowing towards them like a tide of… jelly. It was a kaleidoscope of colors – blue, green, orange, even a few that shimmered with an iridescent purple – their forms shifting and pulsating as they moved.

The men's night-vision goggles, struggling to make sense of the chaotic display, adjusted their filters, revealing the true nature of the… attackers.

"Aw, look at those cute little blobs," one of the men chuckled.

"Cute?" another man snarled. "Those things are dangerous, man! And there's… there's a shitload of them! Remember what happened to those other hunters? Vanished without a trace! Get your head in the game, rookie!"

They all knew, with a chilling certainty, that this place… this goddamn Distillery District… was dangerous. That was the whole reason they were here. Those missing hunter groups… they hadn't just… wandered off. Not in this city. Not with those stories.

They knew what "missing" meant in a place like this.

It meant dead.

The question was… how? What, or who, had killed them?

They were all seasoned hunters, except for the wide-eyed rookie who was now staring at the approaching slimes with a mixture of fascination and terror. And they all felt it… that prickle of awareness, that feeling of being… watched.

But fear was a luxury they couldn't afford. Not now. Their training, their instincts, took over.

"Split up!" the blonde woman barked, her voice sharp, commanding. "Alpha team, take the rooftops. Bravo team, stay low, use the alleys. We need eyes on every angle. And for God's sake… be careful. We don't know what we're dealing with."

The group moved with a practiced precision, taking up positions, their weapons trained on the approaching slimes. The two women, armed with crossbows, scrambled up a pile of rubble, gaining a vantage point from which to snipe. The smoker and the burly man, their swords drawn, took cover behind a toppled distillery vat, ready to engage in close combat.

Still looking a bit shell-shocked, the rookie clung to the veteran hunter's side, his eyes darting around nervously.

"Remember the plan," the blonde woman said, her voice a low, urgent hiss. "We hit them hard, hit them fast. Conserve our energy. No point wasting spells on… slimes. We use well-placed attacks. Synergy. Fire and wind. Water and lightning. We force whoever's controlling these things… to show themselves."

The blonde woman gestured towards the heavy chest they'd been carrying. "And keep that damn box safe! We're gonna need it."

The men, grunting with effort, lifted the chest and followed her towards a nearby building, its walls still partially intact, offering a semblance of cover.

The slimes were everywhere. A pulsating, rippling tide of gelatinous goo that flowed through the streets, oozing around corners, seeping through cracks in the pavement. They came in a rainbow of colors – electric blue, toxic green, fiery orange – their forms constantly shifting, their movements both mesmerizing and… kinda gross.

The rookie, his nerves clearly getting the better of him, raised his crossbow and fired a bolt. It struck a bright blue slime, piercing its gelatinous form, but the slime simply… absorbed it, the bolt vanishing into its depths without causing any visible damage.

"What the hell are you doing, kid?" the tattooed woman shouted, rolling her eyes. "You could shoot those things all day, and it wouldn't do jack shit. Wait for my signal. We're using spells."

The slimes were getting closer now, their pulsating forms almost… menacing in their sheer numbers.

"Aqua Blast!" the blonde woman shouted, her hands glowing with a faint blue light. A torrent of water, crystal clear and surging with a force that belied its seemingly harmless nature, erupted from her fingertips, slamming into the approaching slimes, sending them flying.

"Lightning Strike!" the burly man roared, raising his hands towards the sky. A bolt of electricity, crackling with raw power, streaked down from the sky, striking the wet ground amidst the slimes, sending out a shockwave of energy that vaporized a dozen of the creatures in a flash of blinding light.

But even as they were blasted apart, vaporized, dissolved… the slimes kept coming. More and more of them, surging forward as if drawn by an invisible force, their numbers seemingly endless.

And their movements… they weren't random anymore. They were… targeted. Deliberate.

"They're… they're coming right for us," the smoker muttered, his eyes widening in alarm. "Someone's… someone's controlling them."

"Be careful!" the blonde woman shouted with a hint of fear. "This is… this is no ordinary slime infestation."

The slimes, their numbers growing with each passing second, pressed against their defenses, a pulsating, rippling tide of goo that threatened to overwhelm them.

"Shields up!" the blonde woman shouted, pulling a handful of small, circular devices from her pouch. She tossed them into the air, and the devices, humming with a faint, blue light, activated, expanding outwards to form a shimmering, translucent barrier that halted the slimes' advance.

The shields, though seemingly fragile, held firm against the onslaught. They were powered by a unique energy source, a sliver of Seraphene's own divine grace, woven into the fabric of their armor. It was a workaround, a loophole that allowed them to use magic within the otherwise restrictive confines of Seshat's domain.

"Take them out!" the blonde woman yelled, her voice echoing through the derelict streets. "While they're bunched up! Don't let them get close!"

The hunters unleashed a barrage of spells, fireballs, lightning bolts, and shards of ice, all amplified by the divine energy woven into their armor, crashing into the pulsating mass of slimes, vaporizing them in bursts of light and heat.

But for every slime they destroyed, two more seemed to take its place.

And then, from atop a nearby building, a scream pierced the air.

The rookie, who'd been perched on the rooftop, firing bolts of lightning with a gleeful abandon, suddenly went rigid, his body convulsing, before tumbling over the edge, landing with a sickening thud on the cobblestones below.

The others, their focus on the slimes, barely registered his fall. They were veterans, trained to stay focused, to keep fighting even in the face of… well, death. Stopping now, panicking… that was a rookie mistake.

But as they continued their assault, they noticed something… off.

A crossbow bolt, its shaft a dark, almost iridescent green, protruded from the back of the rookie's head, lodged between the gap in his helmet and armor.

Whoever had fired that shot… they were damn good.

"Cover your heads!" the blonde woman shouted, her voice laced with a sudden, chilling fear. "Keep your backs to the walls! Who the fuck fired that shot?! Come out, coward!"

For a fleeting moment, as she spun around, her gaze scanning the rooftops, she caught a glimpse of… her. A silhouette, dark against the backdrop of the moonlit sky, a crossbow clutched in her hand. Then, just as quickly, the figure vanished, leaping across the gap between buildings, melting back into the shadows.

The blonde woman let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Relief warred with unease.

At least it wasn't a goddamn wraith. Or some ancient, tentacled horror from the depths of this place

"It's a woman," she said, her voice still shaky, but with a hint of… annoyance creeping in. "She's the one who… who took out the rookie."

"A woman?" the burly man echoed, frowning. "What the hell's a woman doing in this shithole? And how the fuck did she get past our perimeter?"

"She's good," the blonde woman muttered, scanning the rooftops. "Damn good. That shot… it was… professional. And she knew… she knew exactly where to hit him. Where the armor… didn't cover."

She turned to the others, her expression hardening.

"Looks like we're being hunted, boys. And this bitch… she knows what she's doing."

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