Hitman with a Badass System

1356 Cliche that works everytime

The minion scurried out of the room as fast as his legs could carry him. Agra, with a sigh of exaggerated boredom, turned his attention back to Qin Jiu. He bounced over to the bed, a king-sized monstrosity draped in silks and furs that looked more like a battlefield than a place of rest, and flopped onto the mattress, sending a cloud of dust into the air.

He grabbed an apple from a nearby bowl—it was bruised and half-rotten, but Agra didn't seem to notice—and took a large bite, juice dribbling down his chin and staining his already messy robe.

"Speaking of Gods," he mumbled between chews, "hear that the Dark Lord's been busy. Killed his brother. Snuffed out the light in the mortal realm. Sounds like a real party."

He let out a bark of laughter, spraying bits of apple across the room.

"Gotta say, I'm a fan. Darkness and chaos… two sides of the same coin. We understand each other, that Dark Lord and I. More like brothers than he and that goody-two-shoes Noah ever were." He grinned at Qin Jiu, his eyes glittering with a manic gleam.

"And you, my love," he said, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Looks like your little prophecy came true after all. All that messing around with time… all those grand plans to save the mortal realm… and you ended up helping the Dark Lord plunge it into darkness!"

He let out another roar of laughter, clutching his stomach as if he'd just heard the funniest joke in existence.

"But that's what I love about you, Qin Jiu! You're a walking paradox! A beautiful disaster! The perfect companion for a God of Chaos!"

"The thought of all that suffering… all that darkness… it's like a continuous orgasm for my soul!"

After hearing Agra's words, Qin Jiu swallowed hard, her stomach churning. She wanted to scream, to rage, to tell him how wrong he was, how his twisted vision of chaos had only brought pain and suffering. She wanted to travel back in time, to slap some sense into her younger self, to warn her about the monster she was falling for.

But she held her tongue. Experience had taught her that arguing with Agra in his current state was like trying to reason with a rabid dog. It would only make things worse.

She remembered Agra, centuries ago, when he'd first swept her off her feet. He'd been wild, sure, but there was a charm to his madness, a spark of adventure that had ignited a fire in her own soul. He was handsome, in a rugged, untamed sort of way, and his laughter, though a bit too loud, a bit too… unhinged, had once made her heart skip a beat.

But time, and power, had twisted him. He'd become consumed by his own chaotic nature, addicted to the suffering of others and drowned in chaos juice.

And she… she was trapped in her own past mistakes.

The next day, at the crack of dawn, Agra swaggered into the designated meeting ground. It was a desolate plateau, a barren stretch of rock and scrub that straddled the border between two warring domains. The air was thick with the stench of sulfur and decay, the ground littered with the bones of long-dead creatures. A fittingly chaotic backdrop for a meeting between two of the most volatile gods in the realm.

Agra, predictably, had arrived in style. He'd materialized in a burst of lightning and shadow, his laughter echoing across the desolate landscape as he surveyed the scene with a manic grin.

"Andohr! You old bastard! Where are you hiding?" he roared, his voice booming across the plateau.

There was no immediate answer. Only the sigh of the wind and the distant caw of a carrion bird.

Then, a faint shimmer, a ripple of displaced air, caught Agra's attention. He turned, his eyes narrowing, and saw a sight that made him chuckle.

An ornate, silver-framed mirror, its surface swirling with a hazy mist, had materialized out of thin air. And within its depths, a figure was taking shape.

Andohr, looking as smug and self-satisfied as ever, stared back at him with a cold smile.

"Agra," Andohr greeted, his voice smooth as silk but with an underlying current of steel. "You've finally graced me with your presence. I trust you received my message?"

He didn't bother with pleasantries or small talk. He knew Agra's temperament, the chaotic energy that simmered just beneath the surface, always threatening to erupt. Better to get straight to the point, to stroke the God of Chaos's ego just enough to keep him… manageable.

Agra, however, was in a playful mood. He sauntered towards the mirror, his movements a strange mix of grace and manic energy, his eyes glittering with a mischievous light.

"Andohr, my old friend," he purred, his voice laced with a mocking charm. "Always a pleasure to see your… handsome face." He paused, tilting his head as if considering a particularly intriguing puzzle. "So, what brings you to this… delightful little corner of chaos? Couldn't resist the allure of my… unique ambiance?"

Andohr, despite his irritation, maintained a cool façade. Arrogance, he could handle. Insanity, on the other hand… that required a more delicate touch.

"I believe we have… mutual interests, Agra. A common enemy."

"An enemy, you say?" Agra's laughter echoed across the desolate plateau, a harsh, discordant sound. "And who might this… enemy be?"

"The Dark Lord." Andohr's gaze hardened. "He's grown too powerful, too reckless. He's a threat to us all."

Agra's laughter subsided, replaced by a thoughtful frown. He picked at a scab on his cheek, flicking a bit of dried blood onto the dusty ground.

"The Dark Lord, huh?" He grinned, a flash of sharp, pointed teeth. "Yeah, he's a real… firecracker, that one. I kinda like him."

"Like him?" Andohr's eyebrow arched.

"Sure," Agra shrugged, his grin widening. "He stirs things up. Creates chaos. I'm a fan."

"A fan?" Andohr repeated, his tone laced with disbelief. "He's a threat to your power, just as he is to mine. He's a force of destruction, a cancer that needs to be excised."

"Destruction? Chaos? Sounds like a Tuesday night to me," Agra cackled. "Don't you ever get bored, Andohr? Always trying to control everything, keep everything neat and tidy. Where's the fun in that?"

He paused, his gaze meeting Andohr's, a flicker of something… calculating… dancing in his eyes. "But sure, I'm listening. What's your proposition?"

"Tell me, Agra," Andohr began, his voice deceptively smooth, "what do you know about the God of Darkness?"

Agra threw back his head and let out a booming laugh. "That guy? He's like a brother to me! Spreads chaos wherever he goes. Almost as good as me, but lacks a certain… creativity."

"A brother, you say?" Andohr chuckled, a cold glint in his eyes. "That's… touching. But what if I told you that your dear brother might be crossing paths with you soon? And when he does… well, you'll need allies. Powerful allies. How about… we help each other out? Against a common enemy?"

Agra's laughter died in his throat, replaced by a calculating gleam in his eyes.

"You think I'm stupid, Andohr?" he asked, his voice suddenly sharp. "I know the history between you two. Five thousand years, stuck in your own damn castle, weren't you? Ironic, isn't it? The God of Time and Space, trapped by… well, time and space."

He grinned, a cruel, mocking twist of his lips. "Yeah, you two are real close."

Andohr's hand, hidden beneath the folds of his robe, clenched into a fist. He could feel the temporal energy crackling around him, a storm brewing beneath his skin. If he'd been at his full power, he would have ripped Agra apart, atom by atom, and then put him back together just to do it again.

But he wasn't at his full power. And right now, he needed this unstable bastard's help. He needed Agra's chaos, his unpredictability, to make the Dark Lord's life a living hell.

Because Andohr hated Michael, hated him with a burning passion that eclipsed even his own thirst for power. And he'd do anything, ally himself with anyone, to bring that arrogant bastard Dark Lord down.

On the other hand, Agra threw back his head and let out another booming laugh, reveling in the flicker of annoyance he'd sparked in Andohr's carefully controlled gaze. He knew he was poking the bear, but damn, it was fun to watch the God of Time squirm.

What Agra didn't realize was the depth of Andohr's cunning. The God of Time and Space was a master manipulator, his mind a labyrinth of schemes and counter-schemes, his ability to read and influence others, even Gods, honed to a razor's edge.

"I'm the God of Chaos, Andohr, not the God of Stupidity," Agra continued, his voice taking on a mocking lilt. "I see what you're trying to do. You want to pit me against the Dark Lord. Turn us into your little… playthings."

He shrugged, his grin widening. "But here's the thing… I got no beef with the Dark Lord. He's doing his thing, spreading a little darkness, shaking things up. Hell, I'm practically swimming in new worshippers, thanks to your little civil war. Life's good. Why would I want to screw that up?"

He paused, his gaze turning thoughtful. "Besides, I hear the guy's actually killed a God. Rainar, wasn't it? Why the hell would I want to piss off someone who can actually off another god? I might be chaotic, Andohr, but I ain't dumb."

However, Andohr's smile didn't falter. In fact, it widened, a predatory gleam entering his eyes. Agra's insults, his mockery, had only fueled the fire of Andohr's carefully crafted scheme. He'd initially planned to use Agra, tossing him a few scraps of power as a reward for his… services. But now… well, now Andohr had something far more satisfying in mind.

He threw back his head and let out a laugh, a low, chilling sound that echoed across the desolate plateau.

Agra blinked, his own manic laughter dying in his throat.

"What the fuck…?" he muttered, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"You misunderstand, my dear Agra," Andohr purred, his voice deceptively smooth. "I'm not here to pit you against the Dark Lord. I'm here to offer you… a gift."

"A gift?" Agra's suspicion was evident in his voice.

"Think about it, Agra," Andohr continued, his voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. "That lovely little Temple of Chaos you're building… the slaves you're using… they all belonged to Ava, didn't they? The Goddess of Healing? Tell me, Agra… do you know about Ava's… favorite angel? Fayeth, her name is. A beautiful, mortal woman. Devoted to her Goddess. And guess who crossed paths with her recently? Saved her from Rainar's minions? Twice, in fact."

Andohr paused, letting the information sink in.

"I know, I know," he chuckled. "It's a cliché. The dark, brooding hero rescuing the beautiful, helpless damsel. But those clichés… they work, don't they?"

"Get to the point, Andohr," Agra growled, his patience wearing thin.

"The point, my dear Agra, is this: Fayeth is going to come looking for her Goddess. For her people. She'll come to your domain, to the Verdant Sanctuary, to try and… well, heal the mess you've made. And what do you think will happen then? She'll become your… guest. A hostage. And the Dark Lord? Once he absorbs that blood, he'll ascend. Become a Prime God. And Prime Gods, my friend, they have a way of hearing their followers' prayers. Especially the desperate ones."

Andohr leaned closer, his smile turning predatory.

"Imagine, Agra. Fayeth, praying for her savior. Praying for the Dark Lord. And he'll come, won't he? To rescue his… damsel. To right a wrong. To bring chaos to your little paradise."

"You're saying…" Agra's eyes widened, the pieces finally falling into place.

"I'm saying," Andohr purred, his voice dripping with venomous sweetness, "that the Dark Lord is going to come knocking. And when he does… well, let's just say your perfect little chaotic world is going to get… fucked."

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