Hitman With A Badass System

Chapter 1367  Michael's Sneaky Plan

Michael met her gaze, his own expression a mixture of weariness and… something else. Regret? Guilt? It was hard to tell, even for him.

"What do you want, Rowena?" he asked, his voice a low, steady rumble. "What do you want me to say?"

But Rowena ignored his question, her focus fixed on the one thing that consumed her, the one question that echoed through the empty chambers of her heart.

"Why, Ghost?" she whispered, her voice breaking. "Why did you kill him? Didn't you… didn't you feel even a… a spark of… of love for him? Even though… even though you never grew up as… as family?"

Michael didn't answer. He couldn't. The truth, the messy, complicated truth, was tangled up in a knot of guilt and regret, a knot he hadn't yet figured out how to unravel.

He'd seen the aftermath of Noah's death. The eternal darkness that had descended upon the mortal realm. The fear. The despair. The way it had twisted people, amplified their worst impulses.

He had felt it too, in the prayers of his followers, in the whispers of the wind, in the very air he breathed. The weight of that loss, the ripple effect of his actions… it was inescapable. To be honest, he hadn't wanted to kill Noah. It had been… a necessity. A choice made in the heat of battle, a desperate act of self-preservation.

He wasn't proud of it.

And he certainly wasn't… happy about it.

Back when he'd been an assassin, a nameless shadow in the mortal realm, he'd made a rule. Never kill innocents. Never kill anyone he… knew.

Taking a life was one thing. Seeing the ripples, the consequences, the way it shattered the lives of those left behind… that was another.

And Noah… Noah had been innocent. Naive, perhaps. A bit too… righteous for Michael's taste. But a good person, nonetheless. Manipulated by Skyhall, twisted into a weapon against his own brother.

He'd believed, with a conviction that Michael had found both admirable and infuriating, that darkness was inherently bad. And Michael, with his growing power, his embrace of the shadows, his ruthless methods…he'd fit the bill of the villain perfectly.

So Noah had done what he thought was right. Tried to stop him. To save the world.

And Michael… Michael had done what he had to do.

He'd survived.

But as he stared at Rowena now, at the shattered remnants of her faith, her love, her hope… he couldn't help but feel a pang of… regret.

"Did you even think about his family?" Rowena's voice, choked with rage and grief, pierced the frozen silence. She stepped forward, grabbing him by the collar of his armor, her fingers digging into the cold metal.

"Did you think about what killing the God of Light would do to this world? To our world?"

She shook him, her own body trembling with the force of her emotions, and then, unable to contain her fury any longer, she slapped him. Hard.

"You and your goddamn power! You've destroyed everything!"

Michael's head snapped back from the force of the blow, but he didn't retaliate. Didn't even flinch. He simply stared at her, his gaze unwavering, the shadows in his eyes deepening.

It had never been about power, not for power's sake. His entire life had been a struggle for survival, a constant climb up the food chain. He'd learned, the hard way, that you were either the predator, or the prey. There was no middle ground.

He'd reached the top of the food chain on Earth, become the world's deadliest assassin, a ghost who moved through the shadows, leaving a trail of bodies in his wake.

And then… he'd been reborn into this world. This world of magic, of cultivation, of gods and demons and ancient prophecies.

At first, he'd thought he could escape his past. Build a new life. Find peace. He'd aimed for wealth, for influence, for a comfortable anonymity that would allow him to blend into the background.

But this world… it had a way of pulling you back into the game.

His enemies had escalated, from petty thugs and jealous rivals to powerful cultivators, to Skyhall, to the goddamn Gods themselves. And now… the Omegas.

He'd had to adapt. To evolve. To become something… more.

"I'm not going to explain myself, Rowena," he said, his voice low, steady, devoid of any trace of apology. "I'm not going to play the… victim card. I did what I had to do. To survive."

He took a step closer to her, his gaze intense. n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

"The light faded when Noah died. But if I had died… this entire realm would be a slave factory for the Gods. The great evil, the villain, the Dark Lord… I'm the one standing between them and your precious mortals."

He paused, letting that sink in.

"I gave Noah chances, Rowena. So many chances. But he was so hell-bent on being the… good guy… that he failed to see the gray in the world." He met her gaze, his eyes burning with a cold fire.

"So before you go blaming me for his death… maybe take a little responsibility yourself. If you, and your precious family, had taught him that the world isn't black and white… that Skyhall was evil… maybe he'd still be alive."

After hearing Michael's true yet harsh words, Rowena stumbled back as if struck. His words landed like a thunderclap, shattering the last vestiges of her denial. She couldn't refute the truth in them. Unlike Noah, she'd always known, deep down, that Skyhall wasn't the shining beacon of righteousness it pretended to be.

She'd played the role of the Holy Maiden, the perfect, innocent pawn in their game, because she'd had to. Refusing would have put her family, her beloved brother, in danger. And she would have done anything to protect Noah.

She'd believed, perhaps naively, that Noah would eventually see the world for what it truly was. That he'd learn, on his own terms, that good and evil weren't always so clear-cut. That he'd make his own choices, forge his own path.

But now… now she realized the cost of her silence, the price of her inaction.

Memories, fragments of conversations, moments of shared laughter and whispered secrets with Noah, flashed through her mind. She saw his innocent smile, heard his earnest voice, felt the warmth of his love, a love that had always shone so brightly, even in the darkest of times.

And a wave of regret, a crushing tide of what-ifs and might-have-beens, washed over her. Why hadn't she tried harder? Why hadn't she challenged his beliefs, opened his eyes to the complexities of the world, the evil that lurked beneath the surface of Skyhall's carefully crafted facade?

To Michael's surprise, she didn't lash out. Didn't scream, didn't argue.

Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks, freezing instantly in the icy air. She took a step towards him, her body trembling and her legs buckled beneath her.

He caught her before she hit the ground, his arms instinctively wrapping around her, pulling her close.

And for a moment, as she buried her face in his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of leather and metal, she felt… safe. Like she was back in Noah's arms, sheltered from the storm, the weight of the world momentarily lifted from her shoulders.

She clung to him, her sobs wracking her body, her tears soaking through his armor. And Michael, his own anger fading, simply held her, his hand stroking her hair, a gesture of comfort, of… understanding.

As Michael held her, a wave of something… different… washed over him. It wasn't just her grief, her despair, that he felt. It was… something else. Something darker. Something… wrong.

A sharp clink sounded from beneath their feet, like glass shattering on stone. Michael looked down, his brow furrowing, and saw a small, empty vial lying on the frost-covered floor.

He glanced back at Rowena, his heart sinking as he noticed the subtle changes in her appearance. Her eyes, usually a vibrant green, were now tinged with a faint, unnatura blueness. Her skin, already pale, was taking on a ghastly, almost translucent quality. And her breath… it came in shallow, ragged gasps.

He could feel her heartbeat against his chest. It was erratic, fluttering wildly one moment, then slowing to a dangerous crawl the next.

"What did you do?" he asked, his voice a harsh whisper, his grip on her tightening.

Rowena's body went limp in his arms, her head falling back against his chest.

He eased her down to the floor, gathering her into his lap, his gaze frantically searching her face for any sign of… anything.

He picked up the vial, the empty glass container cold and slick in his hand. He brought it to his nose, inhaling cautiously. The scent that hit him was pungent, acrid, like a mix of rotting seaweed and bitter almonds.

Poison.

"It's… from the deep sea black serpent," Rowena rasped, her voice weak, fading. "One of the… most potent poisons… in the realm. The Holy Maidens… they're given a vial… in case… in case of capture. A last resort…"

She coughed, a harsh, rattling sound that made Michael's heart clench.

"I'm using it… as a… a last resort," she whispered, her gaze meeting his.

"You're going to… be my brother this time. You're going to… find a way… to bring Noah back. I don't care… how you do it… but you will fix this. Fix your… mistakes. You're a god now, Michael. You have the power."

Her eyelids fluttered, her breath growing shallower.

"This poison… it'll… it'll kill me… in a year. You have… a year. To figure it out. And if you can't… if it's… impossible… then at least… at least bury me… as your sister. That much… you owe me."

Michael stared down at her, his face a mask of shock and… something else. Fear? Despair?

However, what Rowena didn't know was… Michael had a secret weapon.

"System, neutralize that poison. Now,"

[Host, neutralizing Deep Sea Black Serpent venom will require 100 million Badass Points. Do you want to proceed?]

"Do it!" Michael ordered. He lost enough people already and he wasnt willing to lose rowena too. Besides, he had enough badass points to do whatever he wants. Thus, curing her poison wasn't a big deal to Michael.

[Confirmation received host. Deducting 100 million Badass Points. Neutralization process initiated. Estimated completion time will be 72 hours. Subject will experience no noticeable side effects during this period.]

Michael let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. One hundred million points… it was a hefty price, but a small one to pay for Rowena's life. And for his own sanity.

He watched as the color slowly returned to Rowena's face, her breathing becoming more regular, the erratic thumping of her heart calming to a steady beat. There were no outward signs of the System's intervention, no glowing lights, no magical fanfare. Just a gradual, almost imperceptible easing of the poison's grip.

Rowena, unaware of the miracle that had just occurred, continued to mumble deliriously, her words a mix of grief, regret, and desperate hope.

Michael listened patiently, his expression a carefully constructed mask of concern. He'd play along for now, let her believe she was still on borrowed time, that her desperate gamble had worked.

He wasn't a fool. Bringing Noah back… even if it were possible… it would be a logistical nightmare. And honestly? The last thing Michael needed right now was his righteous, judgmental brother running around, complicating his plans and questioning his every move.

Rowena wanted him to find a way. That was all that mattered. He'd… figure something out. He could always… stall. Pretend he was working on it, searching for some ancient ritual, some lost artifact, some magical loophole that could undo the impossible. He could drag it out, buy himself some time, until he'd dealt with the more pressing threats.

Because bringing Noah back now, before he'd dealt with Andohr, before he'd secured the mortal realm, before he'd faced down the Omegas… it would be… anticlimactic. Pathetic.

And if his life were a novel, if there were some cosmic audience watching his every move, judging his choices, they would throw the book across the room and curse his name if he brought Noah back now. It would be a betrayal of everything he'd fought for, everything he'd sacrificed.

He had to play the long game. For Rowena. For Noah. For himself.