Hitman with a Badass System

As Michael stepped outside the Divine Towers, he found the streets still vibrant with festivities. The crowds moved like a river, the food stalls emitted delicious aromas, and the golden orbs illuminated the city under the night sky. It was a lively scene, one he hadn't experienced in a long time.

He decided to stow the wooden box containing the dark ore into his system storage, ensuring its safety. Then, he navigated through the bustling streets, his destination clear in his mind. He approached a food vendor who was selling dolls to children. The vendor, a portly man with a scruffy beard, looked up as Michael approached.

"Excuse me," Michael began politely, "I'm looking for the Screaming Booklet Tavern. Could you please give me directions?"

The vendor's expression shifted from pleasant surprise to a frown, and he hesitated for a moment. Michael, noticing his reaction, furrowed his brow and asked, "Is something wrong?"

A nearby customer, an elderly woman with a kind smile, overheard the conversation and chimed in, "Well, dear, the Screaming Booklet Tavern isn't known for being a very friendly place. Are you sure you want to go there? I can direct you to a more reputable establishment nearby."

Michael nodded and said, "Thank you for the concern, but I'm just meeting a friend outside the Screaming Booklet. I won't be going in."

Understanding his intentions, the vendor and the customer exchanged knowing glances.

"Oh, I see. Well then, you'll want to head down this street," the vendor said, pointing in a specific direction. "It's just a short walk from here. You can't miss it."

"Thank you. I appreciate your help," Michael replied with a nod of gratitude before heading in the indicated direction, leaving the vendor and the elderly customer to their dolls and their thoughts.

Following the directions given by the vendor, Michael walked down the street with Ayag nestled on his shoulder. Her little head nudged his ear gently, and she whispered, "We're being followed, Ghost."

Michael didn't break his stride, acknowledging Ayag with a subtle nod. He knew they were being trailed; the sensation of being watched had been nagging at him since they left the Divine Towers.

Sarba, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, finally spoke up. "Any idea who might be following us?"

Michael's expression remained composed as he replied, "It could be one of two groups, I think. Either Kranar's worshippers or Rainar's."

Ayag, still whispering, asked, "Are you going to lose them?"

Michael chuckled softly, his eyes scanning the street ahead. "Why bother? Let them follow. It might keep them occupied."

They continued down the street, with Michael unfazed by the invisible eyes tracking their every move.

Eventually, Michael reached the tavern known as the Screaming Booklet. Its exterior was far from inviting, as Ayag aptly commented, "This place looks about as cheerful as a crypt."

He couldn't help but agree with her sentiment. The tavern had a gloomy and unwelcoming exterior. It was made of rough-hewn stone, and the entrance was narrow, barely allowing more than one person to enter at a time. The tavern's sign, a battered wooden board with fading letters, swung creakily in the evening breeze.

With a resigned sigh, Michael pushed open the door and stepped inside. The interior was as dull and dreary as its exterior. Dimly lit by a few flickering candles, the room was filled with patrons, most of whom were robed, their hoods pulled low to cover their heads. Conversations were hushed, and a sense of secrecy hung in the air.

Ayag muttered, "Well, this is certainly cozy."

Michael scanned the room, looking for any sign of the adventurer who had ventured into the mysterious ruin. He couldn't help but feel a tinge of unease in this atmosphere.

In the dim and secretive atmosphere of the Screaming Booklet, Michael decided to cut through the tension by raising his voice firmly, "Who among you is the adventurer that explored the ruin outside the city and came out as the sole survivor?"

His question had the desired effect. Heads turned sharply in his direction, hooded figures eyeing him with a mixture of surprise and suspicion. The place fell silent as all eyes focused on the newcomer.

The bald-headed, bulky bartender, a man who looked like he'd seen his fair share of brawls, approached Michael cautiously. "We don't want any trouble here," he warned, his tone heavy with warning.

Ayag couldn't resist adding her own commentary, growling, "Trouble? In Sagespire? They've probably got a rule against having fun in here."

Despite Ayag's sarcasm, Michael maintained his calm composure, waiting for an answer regarding the adventurer he sought.

In the dimly lit corner of the tavern, a lone figure raised his hand. Michael's attention was drawn to the elf who leaned casually against the wall, a large cup of ale in his hand. He had a sardonic smile as he looked at the three-headed serpent perched on Michael's shoulder.

"Well, ain't you a peculiar sight," the elf said, a mocking tone in his voice. "What's with the serpent, mate? Lost your way to the circus, have you? Must be my lucky day. What can I do for you, my scaly friend?"

Michael approached the elf with measured steps, and as he did, the patrons in the tavern began to gather around, curious about the commotion.

Ignoring the growing crowd, Michael pulled out a chair before the elf, sat down calmly, and replied, "I heard you're the one who explored the ruin outside the city and came out with a unique ore. I'm interested in hearing your story,"

The elf let out a snicker, taking a long swig from his ale before responding, "Why would I ever want to recollect something I've been trying to forget about with this ale? Memories of that place are best left buried in a haze."

Michael leaned in slightly, his voice steady as he said, "I can give you gold coins, adventurer. Enough to drown your sorrows for a lifetime."

The elf continued to snicker, a bitter edge in his voice as he replied, "Gold coins, you say? Unless your precious coins can bring my friends back from the dead, you can kindly fuck off."

Ayag, growing impatient and perhaps a bit frustrated, coiled herself tighter around Michael's neck and hissed, "Listen here, you drunken, pointy-eared fool. If you don't start talking right now, we'll make sure you remember this encounter for the rest of your miserable life."

The tension in the tavern escalated as the patrons watched with growing curiosity..

The bartender squeezed his way through the crowd. He leaned in close to Michael and spoke in a low voice, "You should leave, friend. This isn't a place to stir up trouble. Goddess Seshat's guards don't take kindly to that, and you'll find yourself in the prison faster than you can say 'sorry.'"

Michael held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I don't want any trouble. I'm just looking for some information."

Just as tensions were escalating, a voice cut through the murmurings of the tavern's patrons. A figure stepped forward from the crowd, addressing the elf by name. "Hey, Thaldir, is this guy bothering you?"

Thaldir, the elf leaning against the wall, shot Michael a withering look and spat out, "Just fuck off before you regret setting foot in here."

It seemed that Thaldir had no intention of sharing his story or cooperating.

The man who had stepped forward placed his hand firmly on Michael's shoulder, his intentions clear. He leaned in closer, a sly grin on his face, and said, "My friend here isn't in the mood for chatting, so I suggest you take your leave."

Michael remained calm but resolute. He spoke in a measured tone, "I'll give you three seconds to take your hand off my shoulder."

The man's grin widened as he taunted, "Or else what?"

Without a change in expression, Michael began counting slowly. "One."

"Two," Michael continued counting, his gaze locked on the man's eyes.

Suddenly, the man's confident expression twisted into one of excruciating pain. He let out a piercing scream and ripped his hand away from Michael's shoulder, collapsing to his knees and writhing on the ground.

The other patrons were baffled, unsure of what had just transpired. They watched in shock as the man rolled on the floor, clutching his hand, and screamed, "Make it stop! Please, make it stop!"

The bartender, snapping out of his initial shock, glared at Michael and demanded, "What did you do to him?"

Michael remained composed, replying, "I simply warned him."

The patrons who had surrounded Michael took a collective step back, their faces etched with fear and confusion. The tavern had fallen into an eerie silence, disrupted only by the agonized moans of the man still writhing on the floor.

The elf, who had initially been so confident, now stared at Michael with a mixture of fear and shock. He understood that he was dealing with someone who possessed powers beyond his comprehension.

Michael leaned in closer, his voice cold and unwavering as he warned, "I hope you don't want another friend to meet his demise prematurely. Tell me what I want to know."

The tavern's patrons remained frozen in place, their eyes darting between Michael and the man on the floor, still struggling with the inexplicable pain coursing through his body.

"You…you are going to get us all thrown into prison!" The bartender shouted. Since there was a rule against fighting, the bartender had to restrain himself from raising his hand at Michael.

"Why? I didn't lay a finger on him," Michael snickered. The patrons and Thaldir were still in confusion and shock, trying to grasp what had just happened. Little did they know Michael had willed his tiny Spyder to inject a minuscule amount of potion that triggered the pain receptors in the man's body.

Michael turned his gaze towards Thaldir, and his eyes bore into the elf's soul with a murderous intent that sent shivers down his spine.

"I am going to ask you one last time, tell me everything you know about the ruin," Michael asked in an icy tone.

"Alright, alright…just stop whatever you are doing to him," Thaldir finally gave in, his voice trembling.

"Now that wasn't hard, was it?" Ayag growled as the man slowly stopped squirming and screaming in pain.