Hitman With A Badass System

Chapter 1343  The Blood of Ancient God Don

Meanwhile, somewhere else in the realm of the Gods, Qin Jiu stared into a mirror, its surface rippling like disturbed water. The room around her was a disaster zone. A king-sized bed, its silk sheets once a pristine white, was now a tangled mess, stained crimson and reeking of stale wine. Empty bottles, their contents long spilled, littered the floor, along with shards of glass that glittered under the dim light.

Qin Jiu, usually the epitome of cold elegance, looked like she hadn't slept in days. Dark circles ringed her eyes, her usually flawless makeup smeared, and her elaborate hairstyle had come undone, leaving strands of raven hair framing a face etched with exhaustion and something… darker.

"About damn time," she muttered, her voice hoarse. The mirror rippled again, and this time, an image solidified within its depths.

A throne, crafted from what appeared to be solid gold, materialized in the mirror. And seated upon that throne, one leg casually crossed over the other, was a man whose very presence seemed to warp the space around him.

Golden hair that flowed like liquid sunlight framed a face that would have been beautiful if it weren't for the cruel twist of his lips. The man was none other than Andohr, the God of Time and Space himself.

"My lord," Qin Jiu said, her voice a strange mixture of relief and resentment, "are you aware that the Dark Lord is currently waging war on Skyhall?"

Andohr didn't answer. He simply smiled, a slow, predatory stretching of his lips that didn't reach those cold, calculating eyes.

It was the smile of someone who'd anticipated every move, someone who controlled the board and all the players on it.

The history books, at least the ones available to the people in mortal realm, painted a sanitized version of Skyhall's founding. A tale of unity, of powerful beings coming together to create a bastion of peace and order in the chaotic mortal realm. They spoke of Qin Jiu's vision, her mastery of celestial runes and time-bending arrays, her selfless dedication to creating a force for good against the Dark Lord and his darkness.

What those history books failed to mention was the puppet master lurking in the shadows.

Andohr, the true architect of Skyhall.

He'd found Qin Jiu centuries ago, a brilliant but reckless runemaster, dabbling in forces that were never meant to be controlled. Her experiments with time travel, her attempts to rewrite history itself, had drawn his attention. Most gods would have struck her down, deemed her a threat to the delicate balance of the universe.

But Andohr saw an opportunity. He saw in Qin Jiu a tool, a weapon to be honed and aimed at a target of his choosing. He'd guided her, whispered in her ear, planted the seeds of what would become Skyhall.

He'd given her the power. And, in doing so, he'd ensured her loyalty.

"Darling, I am the God of Time and Space," Andohr purred. "I may not be able to physically waltz through that ridiculous barrier" His lips curled into a sneer as he continued.

"But I assure you, nothing escapes my awareness."

Hearing Andohr, Qin Jiu frowned, her brow furrowed in confusion. She couldn't understand it. Andohr was the only one, besides perhaps the fallen Noah, who could hope to match the Dark Lord's power. And yet, here he sat, on his shadowy throne, seemingly content to watch Skyhall burn.

As if reading her thoughts, Andohr continued, a cold glint in his sapphire eyes. "Skyhall has served its purpose, my dear. A purpose for which it has failed… spectacularly,"

Qin Jiu bristled at that. She had poured her life force, her very essence, into creating Skyhall. It was her masterpiece, her shield against the encroaching darkness. To hear Andohr dismiss it so casually…

"Failed? But Noah… we all believed he was the one to stop him. You said—"

"I said many things," Andohr interrupted. "But reality has a nasty habit of defying even the most carefully laid plans. Noah is gone. And the Dark Lord? He's tasted power now, true power. Skyhall is nothing but a minor inconvenience to him."

Qin Jiu clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. It wasn't supposed to be like this. She'd trusted Andohr and believed in his vision of a world ruled from the shadows, a world where Skyhall would be the ultimate weapon against the forces of chaos.

"Then why?" she spat, her voice thick with anger and betrayal. "Why create it in the first place? Why sacrifice so many lives, if all you intended was to make them… cannon fodder?"

A cold laugh echoed from the mirror, chilling Qin Jiu to her core. Andohr's smile was gone now, replaced by an expression of chilling indifference. He flicked his wrist, a dismissive gesture that spoke volumes.

Suddenly, a hand materialized out of thin air, slamming across Qin Jiu's face with enough force to send her reeling. She cried out, more in surprise than pain, crashing to the ground as the echo of the slap reverberated through the room.

"Consider that," Andohr purred, his voice dangerously low, "a reminder of who you're speaking to. And where your loyalties lie."

The hand, its fingers still tingling with the force of the blow, vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving Qin Jiu sprawled on the ground, a mix of fear and fury twisting her gut.

The message was clear: Andohr, the God of Time and Space, could reach her anywhere, anytime, even within the protected domain of Agra, the God of Chaos himself.

But Qin Jiu was no stranger to a slap, especially not from a god. Living for centuries as Agra's "dutiful wife" had a way of toughening a girl up. And Agra, the embodiment of chaos itself, well, slapping her around was practically a Tuesday for him. She'd endured worse…far worse than a backhanded reminder of her place.

So she picked herself up, dusted off her clothes, and glared at Andohr's reflection with a fire in her eyes.

However, the God of Time and Space seemed more amused than intimidated by her defiance. He cracked his neck as a cruel smile spread across his lips.

"The God of Darkness is having his fun. Let him. It won't last," Andohr said with a low growl. "You have a plan?" she asked, suspicion lacing her voice.

"Always," Andohr purred, leaning forward on his throne. "The God of Darkness has upset the balance. He's grown too powerful, too reckless. The other gods might not admit it, but they feel it too. The fear," He chuckled, a low, chilling sound.

"They'll come crawling to me, begging for my help. And I… I will give it to them."

"You're uniting the Pantheon," Qin Jiu breathed, finally understanding the scope of Andohr's machinations.

Andohr nodded, a slow, predatory tilt of his head. "Against a common enemy. This time, there will be no prison, no half-assed attempts at containment. This time," he snarled, his voice dripping with venomous promise. "I end him. Permanently," His gaze, cold and calculating, met Qin Jiu's through the reflection of the mirror.

"And until I find the weapon," Andohr continued, his voice regaining its silky smoothness, "that little war… it's an acceptable distraction. Let the God of Darkness have his fun. Let him think he's won. It will make his downfall all the more… exquisite,"

She'd seen Andohr's ambition firsthand, witnessed the subtle manipulations, the carefully orchestrated chaos, that had led to the Pantheon's current civil war. She knew, better than most, the lengths to which he'd go to achieve his goals.

But there was one thing…

"And what about…" she hesitated, choosing her words carefully. Even through the mirror, even across the vast gulf of space and time that separated them, she knew better than to question Andohr directly. But this… this was too important to ignore. "The blood…"

Andohr's smile didn't falter. He raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, an unspoken question in those icy blue eyes.

"The Ancient's blood," Qin Jiu clarified, her voice barely above a whisper, as though even speaking the words aloud was inviting retribution. "If the Dark Lord gets his hands on that…"

She didn't need to finish the sentence. The implications were clear, and they both knew it. The blood of an Ancient God—Don, his name was whispered only in hushed tones, a legend even amongst gods—wasn't just powerful, it was a shortcut to the next Godhood…The Prime God level.

Many had tried to harness the blood's power over the millennia. Fools, all of them. The sheer radiation, the raw chaotic energy it contained, incinerated anything that came within a hundred yards. Only Qin Jiu, guided by Andohr's whispers, had managed to contain it, building a Skyhall palace around the blood, weaving a complex tapestry of celestial runes and time-bending arrays to hold its power in check.

"Don't you remember who taught you those arrays, darling?" Andohr purred. "What's stopping the gods from getting their dirty little hands on the blood of an ancient god?"

"The barrier," Qin Jiu whispered, a chill running down her spine despite the stifling air of her chambers. It was the only reason, the only thing that had stopped the Pantheon from tearing itself apart for a taste of that power. The barrier between realms, erected by the previous Dark Lord, was absolute. "But he—" Qin Jiu gestured at the mirror, her reflection momentarily obscured by a ripple of chaotic energy. "He's already there. In the mortal realm. If he gets past Skyhall's defenses, if he reaches the blood…"

"Relax, darling. Your masterpiece is… more secure than you realize." Andohr simply chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that did little to soothe Qin Jiu's apprehension.

Then, he leaned back on his throne, sapphire eyes gleaming with a hint of smug satisfaction.

"The blood, even contained as it is, radiates chaos. Temporal instability, to be precise. You remember our little… safeguards?"

Qin Jiu's eyes widened. She did remember. With Andohr's guidance, she'd woven a failsafe into the very fabric of the containment chamber. If anyone, even a God, got close enough to touch the blood without being incinerated by its raw power…

"It shifts," Qin Jiu breathed, recalling the intricacies of the temporal arrays she'd built.

"Indeed," Andohr purred. "The moment those safeguards are tripped, the blood… it ceases to exist in any fixed point in time or space. It could be a thousand years in the past, a million years in the future, on the other side of the universe. Even I can only track its movements in the vaguest sense." He smiled, a slow, predatory stretching of his lips.

"Tell me, darling, how does even the God of Darkness plan to collect something that could be anywhere, at any time?"

Andohr, lost in his own machinations, his confidence absolute, didn't know.

He didn't know that Michael had something no one else in existence possessed.

He didn't know about the Badass System.