HITMAN WITH A BADASS SYSTEM

Having no idea that Eldoran was, in fact, a puppet controlled by the God of Darkness, the young elf continued, her voice filled with nervous energy.

“I just… I want everything to be perfect when Lady Seraphene arrives,” she confessed, her gaze flickering around the hall.

“I am hoping, if I do a good enough job, she might, you know, notice me. Grant me a favor.”

A favor from a god. It was a tempting prospect, especially for mortals. Gods held immense power. They could grant wishes, bestow gifts, change fortunes with a flick of their wrist. But Michael, his mind elsewhere, simply chuckled. Seraphene was not the type to hand out favors like candy. She was calculating, manipulative, self-serving. If this elf wanted a favor from her, she would have to offer something valuable in return, something more than just a clean spy hub.

“You know,” Michael said, speaking through Eldoran, his voice dripping with mockery, “a favor from Lady Seraphene is a big fucking deal. You cooking up something special enough to earn that?”

The elf, however, simply scoffed, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

“Hey, I am not revealing my secrets, Eldoran,” she retorted, her voice sharp. “I am a spy, remember? And nice try, genius.”

Michael’s lips twitched in amusement, and he let the matter drop. It made sense, after all. A spy would not just spill their guts to anyone, not even to Eldoran, a colleague they had supposedly worked with for years.

“Well, good luck,” he offered, his voice neutral, and continued his exploration of the chamber, leaving the elf to her preparations. For now, he needed to find a way to get the information stored in these crystals to Pink who was in the safehouse in Verdant forest.

As he moved deeper into the hall, the elves around him ignored him, too busy with their tasks to pay attention to one of their own. He saw a couple of them attaching golden wires to the large, blue crystals, their movements precise and methodical. He passed a table in a corner, where two elves were huddled over a glowing, red crystal. It was smaller than the blue ones, but it pulsated with a fiercer, more intense energy. Curiosity piqued, Michael, still in Eldoran’s body, approached the table.

“What are you two working on?” he inquired, his voice casual and unassuming.

The two elves, engrossed in their work, did not even bother to look up. The female elf who had reprimanded him earlier, however, approached, her arms crossed, a look of exasperation on her face. “You are acting weird, Eldoran,” she observed, her voice laced with suspicion. “What the fuck do you think they are doing? They are feeding the verified, filtered information into the backup crystal. What does it look like they are doing?”

Michael, his mind racing, simply shrugged, trying to maintain Eldoran’s usual apathetic demeanor. Inside, however, his interest was piqued. Backup crystal, huh? Interesting. Very fucking interesting.

Before he could probe further, the two elves at the table, who previously ignored him, turned towards the woman, their expressions earnest. “Lyra,” one of them said, addressing her by name. “We will be done in two hours. The transfer should be complete by then.”

“Good,” Lyra replied, nodding. “Lady Seraphene will be pleased.”

Two hours. That was fucking convenient. More than enough time for Michael to formulate a plan. If he played his cards right, he could destroy this data center, cripple Seraphene’s spy network, and escape before the Goddess of Information even knew what hit her. He grinned, a predatory gleam in his eyes. This was going to be fun as shit. However, he had to wait until they finished uploading the information into the crystal, because it would be a waste to interrupt before that.

Michael, having learned her name thanks to the two oblivious elves, turned towards Lyra, feigning concern.

“I know what they are doing, Lyra,” he began, his voice smooth and patronizing.

“I just wanted to confirm that it is secure. What if something happens to the crystal?”

He could practically feel the resentment radiating off the two elves at the table. It was obvious Eldoran must have been an arrogant prick, a thorn in their side, and Michael was thoroughly enjoying playing the part.

Lyra, however, simply rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed by his feigned concern.

“What could possibly happen to it, Eldoran?” she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“It is not like someone is going to storm in here and take it. No one outside this room even knows this place exists. And even if they did, they would not be able to get past the door. You know how the arrays work. Now, stop asking stupid questions and make yourself useful.”

Despite his inner frustration, Michael simply nodded, a sly smile playing on his lips. He had gotten what he wanted: confirmation. The red crystal was valuable, a backup, a repository of information. If he could steal it and destroy this place, he could cripple Seraphene’s spy network. But the arrays, the defenses—they presented a significant problem, a serious challenge. Seraphene would not let just anyone waltz out of here with her precious data crystal, not even her own spies, not even Eldoran. He needed a plan, a way to bypass the security, to get that crystal the hell out of here.

But thanks to the System, Michael possessed a workaround. He could pay to have the arrays disabled, even if it was just for a few seconds. It would be enough time to grab the crystal and get the hell out using his portable portal. Still, the whole reliance on the System grated on him. If he was a rune master, he could have solved this issue without needing the damn thing. The System had been acting like an asshole lately, forcing him to rely on his own skills more and more. He needed to improve, to learn, to become self-sufficient. He made a mental note to focus on runes, to master the craft. It was clearly important, especially in the realm of the Gods. He had relied on Elidyr for far too long when it came to runes, but Elidyr was back in the mortal realm, and Michael, well, Michael was alone. He needed to be able to handle things on his own.

He continued his charade, wandering through the hall, pretending to adjust coordinates, to tap crystals, to do whatever the fuck Eldoran was supposed to be doing. Lyra, thankfully, was preoccupied, engaged in a heated discussion with the two elves at the red crystal table. The other spies were too busy to pay him any attention. It was the perfect opportunity.

As he moved through the hall, his gaze swept across the room, searching, analyzing, and identifying weak points. He noticed a section of the wall where the blue crystals were spaced further apart, the golden wires less dense—a vulnerability, a place where a well-placed explosive could breach the perimeter. He spotted a blind spot near the entrance, a shadowy alcove where the surveillance crystals did not quite reach—a place to hide, to prepare, to strike. He identified a dark corner near the ceiling, where the light from the crystals barely penetrated—a place to conceal himself, to wait, to pounce. His mind raced, formulating a plan, calculating the angles, the timing, the risks.

“Eldoran!”

While Michael was mentally running through his inventory of bomb schematics, a voice, sharp and urgent, cut through his thoughts. He turned to see Lyra approaching. Her usual playful demeanor was gone, replaced by a grim seriousness that instantly put him on edge. In her hand, she clutched a small, tightly rolled piece of parchment and the way she held it, like it was a venomous snake, sent a shiver down Michael’s spine.

“We need to close the spy hub,” she declared, her voice low and urgent. “Immediately.”

Michael raised an eyebrow, his mind already racing, trying to decipher the meaning behind her words.

“What is wrong?” he asked, his voice calm despite the knot of unease tightening in his gut.

“What happened?”

He knew instinctively that the parchment in her hand was the key – a message, a warning, bad news. Lyra’s expression was off. Gone was the usual spark in her eyes, the playful smirk that usually danced on her lips. She looked like she just swallowed a whole lemon—sour, tense, and ready to spit nails. The excitement, the anticipation for Seraphene’s arrival, it was all gone, replaced by a grim determination that made Michael’s gut clench.

“Why the sudden change of heart?” he inquired, feigning ignorance.

“I have received a note from our spies outside, We have a mole inside,”

When Lyra spoke the word “mole,” it struck Michael like a physical blow. A mole? Here? In Seraphene’s most secure, most secret data center? The thought sent a jolt of something through him, a disorienting mix of fear and a strange, almost exhilarating excitement.

Was she talking about him? Did they somehow discover his true identity? Had they seen through his impeccable disguise? Impossible. He was the God of Darkness, a master of deception. He was wearing Eldoran’s face, walking in his shoes, commanding his subordinates. His infiltration was perfect.

But how could they have known? He had only just taken over Eldoran’s body a few hours ago. It defied logic. Unless… unless the mole was not him. Unless it was someone else, one of the elven operatives working within this very data center.

But why? What were their motivations? Who the fuck were they working for? And what did it mean to close the spy hub? What would happen to the precious data stored within these walls? What would become of the operatives? And what about him?

Questions swirled in Michael’s mind, a chaotic storm of uncertainty and apprehension. He needed answers, and he needed them fast. He forced an expression of confusion onto Eldoran’s face, trying to keep his voice steady and controlled. “A mole?” he asked, feigning ignorance. “What the fuck are you talking about, Lyra?”

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