Hitman With A Badass System - Chapter 1239: Andohr’s Daughter And His Weapon
While Michael was entangled with Rin, the Pantheon, and myriad other problems, Salesi, alongside the evil Andreas, found themselves deep in conspiracy with Andohr. The actions of Gaya, particularly her elimination of some of the seal bearers, inadvertently weakened the barrier Michael had erected between Andohr and the mortal realm. As for how Gaya was able to kill the seal bearers, it was related to the previous Dark Lord’s plan.
In that moment, Salesi was positioned before a mirror. However, this was no ordinary mirror; instead of reflecting her own visage, it displayed Andohr, who sat regally upon a grand throne. The intense animosity he harbored for Michael was evident in his disheveled golden hair and the blood-red hue of his eyes.
“Your Grace,” Salesi intoned, dropping to a knee in a gesture of reverence before Andohr’s image. Yet, Andohr, consumed by his fury, scarcely acknowledged the respect Salesi offered.
“Is everything ready? Or you fucked it up as usual?” he inquired, his voice tinged with impatience. Meanwhile, the evil Andreas lingered in the background, deliberately keeping his face hidden from Andohr.
“Yes, your grace. I won’t fail you this time,” Salesi assured him, her voice saturated with respect.
“Good, because if you did, when I come out of this cage, I will rip you to shreds, daughter…” Andohr’s declaration was devoid of any paternal warmth. In his eyes, Salesi was merely another chess piece in his vendetta against Michael, not his offspring.
“Once I create this real tear to send it through the tear, it will use all my energy, and I will enter into a deep slumber until…” Andohr’s voice trailed off, leaving his sentence unfinished as Salesi nodded, her resolve unshaken by the daunting task ahead.
“I won’t let your sacrifice be in vain, father,” Salesi affirmed, her voice betraying a hint of emotion as she uttered the word ‘father.’
“Do not forget I had to strike a deal with that disgusting Fourcrux to reanimate the body. Once it comes through the realm tear, let it destroy everything that bastard held dearly…the world he craved to rule, the river town he loved and adored, and the dark ocean he plans to build his castle upon,” Andohr declared, his laughter carrying a sinister edge.
“Father, will he come here as you have planned?” Salesi inquired, her voice meek, only to witness Andohr’s frustration manifest physically as he punched his throne.
“You imbecile, do not question my plans. He will come, he will come and find his world that he loves in ruins, and he will fight his brother one more time. And this time, one of their souls will be mine,” Andohr bellowed, his proclamation reverberating throughout the castle, his certainty and malice clear in every word.
Salesi, curiosity piqued, ventured to ask, “But will Ghost truly be so powerful? And does Noah stand a chance against him this time?”
Andohr’s patience wore thin, his frustration evident, yet he took a moment to explain. “When Ghost,” he spat the name like a curse, “enters the fray, his power will be suppressed due to the hydra’s radiation, similar to how Mugashuko’s radiation renders the Southern continent devoid of energy.”
He conceded that Noah would have to exert every ounce of his strength to best Ghost. “Noah will have to fight tooth and nail to defeat Ghost. But with the hydra and our soul army at our disposal, The God of Darkness will find the going tough.”
Despite laying out this strategy, Andohr kept his cards close to his chest. The full extent of his scheme remained a secret, shared only with a select few. Salesi, eager to support her father’s cause, remained in the dark about the intricacies of Andohr’s master plan, a testament to his distrust and the depth of his plotting.
“Father…”
After hearing Andohr’s plan, Salesi hesitated, the word “father” leaving her lips with a reluctance that betrayed her inner turmoil. She seemed torn, wrestling with a question she feared to ask.
Andohr’s patience was already threadbare, and her hesitation only served to stoke the flames of his annoyance. “What is it now?” he snapped, his tone laced with barely concealed irritation.
Taking a deep breath to muster her courage, Salesi finally voiced her concern, “What if Noah doesn’t defeat Ghost?”
Under his breath, Andohr muttered with a sinister smile, “That is the plan.” However, realizing his slip, he quickly masked his evil grin with a veneer of seriousness and turned his attention back to Salesi. “You better make sure Noah comes out on top of their battle,” he commanded, redirecting the conversation to ensure his daughter remained focused on the task at hand, oblivious to the deeper, darker layers of his strategy.
Before Salesi could voice another concern, Andohr preempted her, “Before you ask how Noah is going to kill him, you better make sure all those god-killing arrows now in Ghost’s grasp are taken by Noah. It all depends on Noah’s skills.”
Salesi expressed her doubts, “It’s not going to be easy.”
Andohr’s response was immediate and forceful as he struck the throne, “It is not supposed to be easy!” His frustration boiled over into a tirade. “Are you thinking killing a god is easy, especially the God of Darkness? Do you?”
He continued, his voice echoing with intensity, “That bastard, as much as I hate him, is a damn good cunning fox and a damn good fighter. Underestimate him at your peril. We’ve seen it time and again. He’s slippery, resourceful, and has a knack for turning the tables when you least expect it. If Noah’s to succeed, he needs more than just arrows; he needs to outsmart Ghost, and that, my dear, is a tall order.”
Andohr’s rant laid bare the grudging respect he held for Michael’s capabilities, underscoring the enormity of the task at hand. Despite his hatred for the God of Darkness, Andohr was acutely aware of Michael’s prowess in battle and his cunning intellect.
Suddenly, the evil Andreas chimed in, his tone laced with a hint of mockery, “It almost sounds like you hold a certain respect for your adversary, Your Grace.”
Andohr’s reaction was swift, his face contorting with a mixture of intense hatred and begrudging respect for Michael. “Respect? No, it’s recognition of the threat he poses. The Pantheon, in their arrogance, underestimated him. But not I. To underestimate the God of Darkness is to invite disaster upon oneself,” Andohr declared, his voice seething with fervor.
He continued, his frustration evident, “He’s not just the God of Darkness; he’s the God of Schemes. Always plotting, always a step ahead. That’s the real danger he represents. Anyone who thinks they’re merely dealing with a shadowy deity is a fool. He’s a strategist, a manipulator… and that’s what makes him a powerful enemy.”
Andohr’s words revealed the depth of his strategic thinking and the acknowledgment of Michael’s capabilities not just in physical combat but in the broader chess game of veangence and power struggles.
Andohr, his demeanor as stern as ever, laid out the stark reality of their situation. “To defeat the God of Darkness, everything and everyone involved needs to be fucking perfect. This isn’t some half-assed brawl…It’s the ultimate gambit. Hard work, precision, and flawless execution are non-negotiable.”
Then, he leaned forward, the intensity in his bloody red eyes unmissable. “If everything goes according to my plan, I’ll soon break out of this goddamn cage. And then, the Pantheon itself will grovel at my feet. Mark my words.”
The depth of Andohr’s hatred for Michael was palpable as he spoke further.
“That bastard, keeping me, the God of Time and Space, locked away like some common shit! He’s going to pay, dearly. I’ll make sure of it. For every moment I’ve been imprisoned, he’ll suffer tenfold. I’ll strip away everything he holds dear, piece by bloody piece.”
Finally, with a tone of finality and impatience, Andohr dismissed Salesi, his command echoing with authority. “Don’t mess this up again. I won’t tolerate any more failures,” he warned her, the threat in his voice unmistakable. As Salesi’s image vanished from his view, Andohr rose from his grand throne, his movements deliberate and filled with purpose.
Descending the stairs, he approached an object of considerable size shrouded in black cloth, its form large and imposing even beneath its cover. “You lost last time because of the emotions you harbored. But this time, you will fight devoid of any emotions, as an undead…” Andohr mused aloud, his voice a mix of contemplation and dark anticipation.
With a swift motion, he yanked the cloth away, unveiling what lay beneath—a monstrous undead hydra, confined within a metal cage. The creature, though formidable in size, had only one head, hinting at its incomplete state compared to the mythic three-headed hydra. The lone head, however, was no less terrifying, its scales gray and lifeless, eyes closed in deathly slumber.
Then, as if sensing the presence of its master, the hydra’s eyes snapped open. They glowed with an unnatural light, a stark contrast to its decaying form. This undead beast, stripped of its emotions and reborn into servitude, awaited Andohr’s commands, a powerful weapon in his arsenal against Michael and the world he sought to protect.
