Hitman With A Badass System

1420  Eve Again

The audacity of Zariel's claim hung heavy, a suffocating blanket in the tense air. A stunned silence gripped the group, each mind grappling with the outrageous implications.

Lailah, usually an island of calm, could only gape at Zariel. Her composure lay in shattered pieces around her, replaced by a raw mixture of disbelief and something akin to longing. Gazing into those unnervingly bright eyes, she found no flicker of deception. He was desperate and undeniably cunning, but beneath it all, a sliver of truth resonated. There was no advantage to be gained in a lie of this magnitude, not about her.

Cindy, however, felt a dangerous tendril of temptation uncoil in her gut. Eve had been more than a friend; a sister in the trenches. The thought of seeing her again… "Explain yourself, Zariel," Cindy pressed, the words a low, controlled demand edged with a sliver of hope.

Sensing a crack in their resolve, Zariel's lips curled into a predatory grin. "I know Eve was an incarnation of Death," he hissed, the words slithering through the silence. "If you want to see her breathing again, you need to parley with Death himself. And that, my dears, requires a bargain."

"And what in the nine hells," Harry cut in, suspicion sharpening his tone, "do you want, Zariel? Nothing slips through your grimy fingers for free." He knew the rhythm of the Reaper's game far too well.

A dry, rasping chuckle escaped Zariel. "You're a sharp one, lad." His gaze locked onto Harry. "You can't simply waltz up to Death. He's a slippery bastard, always out of reach. Even if you could corner him, you can't just demand a bloody favor. But I can help. Death owes me. And through me, I can resurrect Eve. The price? You loosen these irritating little restraints."

Cindy's laughter burst forth, a harsh, brittle sound that scraped against the silence. "You think we're daft?" she snarled, knuckles whitening around the worn leather of her sword hilt. "You think we'll just unlock your cage based on some bullshit story you just vomited up? After you crawled inside my head and butchered innocents for shits and giggles?" Trusting Zariel was akin to handing your newborn to a rabid wolf. Like expecting a politician to actually deliver on a goddamn promise. Only a complete moron would unshackle Zariel. Only a blithering idiot would swallow a single syllable that oozed from his lips. He was cornered, desperate enough to promise the moon on a silver platter to escape his predicament. He was desperate. He'd say anything and do anything to escape.

Zariel, however, wasn't naive. He knew empty words wouldn't spring the lock. He needed to dangle something real, something they couldn't resist. If their positions were reversed, he'd keep himself caged, a valuable pawn in a deadly game. Survival was his immediate focus. He needed to buy himself time, and weave an escape from this suffocating prison.

"Just hear me out," Zariel pressed, the earlier snarl replaced by a disconcertingly smooth, persuasive tone. "I can prove it. Prove she can be drawn back. There's a ritual. An ancient path to connect with Death. To demonstrate her link to him."

Elidyr's brow furrowed, skepticism etched deep into his weathered face. "A ritual?" he questioned, the word thick with doubt. "Such a thing has never crossed my ears."

"Naturally, you decrepit fool," Zariel shot back, a flash of his old arrogance igniting his eyes. "It's ancient, buried, forbidden. Known only to a select few." He paused, letting the words hang before turning his attention to Lailah. "Her blood. A single drop will suffice. Perform the ritual, and you will see. You will know. She will stir."

"And I presume," Harry interjected, his voice laced with cynicism, "this sudden generosity isn't sprouting from the goodness of your black heart, Zariel? What's the hook?"

That rasping chuckle returned. "You are a quick study, lad." The grin stretched wider, predatory and knowing. "I'll give you the ritual, freely given. But you must swear. None of you will attempt to end me. Not until the final word is spoken."

It was a long shot, a desperate throw of the dice. But in Elidyr's mind, gears were already turning, weighing the impossible. What if this ritual was a fabrication? A cunning ploy to weaken their defenses, to slip through their fingers?

"And how do we enact this ritual, Zariel?" she inquired, her tone steady despite the turmoil within. "What assurance do we have that your forked tongue isn't weaving another lie?"

Anticipating the doubt, Zariel offered a sly smile. "You possess resources, Lailah. Ancient texts. Scholars steeped in forgotten lore. You can verify the ritual's authenticity. Ensure it isn't some parlor trick. As for guarantees…" He paused, letting the suspense build. "The final incantation, the words that bind Eve's spirit to Death's realm and back, they must come from me. I am a Reaper, a creature born of the divine. Think of me as your bridge,"

Elidyr inhaled deeply, the gears in his mind whirring as he dissected Zariel's proposition. The risks were obvious, the potential for a colossal fuck-up palpable. Yet, the whisper of a chance to see Eve again was a siren song against their better judgment. If there was even a goddamn sliver of truth tangled in the Reaper's lies, they couldn't afford to ignore it.

"Alright, Zariel," Elidyr conceded, the words measured, betraying none of the storm raging within. "I'll bite. Lay out this ludicrous ritual of yours."

A predatory glint ignited Zariel's eyes as his smile widened. "It must be conducted at the stroke of midnight," he began, the words a low, gravelly rasp that sent a shiver down the spine. "Under the veil of the darkest hour. And you'll needcertain ingredients. Rarities, to be sure." He paused, those unnerving eyes sweeping over each of them, lingering as if assessing their worth in the grand scheme of his plan. "The heart of a nightmare beast, Petals of a moonflower, plucked from the treacherous ocean. And, of course, three drops of Eve's lifeblood." Another pause, letting the weight of his pronouncements settle in the air. "Combine these delightful morsels within a silver chalice. Recite the incantation I'll provide. Then, touch the concoction to her lips." The grin returned, a chilling display that prompted an involuntary shudder from Cindy. "And then, my friends, you'll see her. Just a flicker. A fleeting glimpse. Proof, undeniable, that she lingers."

Despite the ingrained skepticism gnawing at him, a sliver of hope snaked through Elidyr's chest. The ingredients were challenging to collect, yes. A bastard of a quest to procure them. But not impossible. Not with the resources they now commanded, the spoils gleaned from Skyhall's plundered vaults. A silent exchange passed between him and Lailah, a brief meeting of eyes that spoke volumes. They would pursue this. They would undertake this perilous endeavor. For Eve. Ignoring her barb, Zariel's gaze fixed on Lailah. "Ready for your little reunion, are we, dear?"

Lailah offered no reply, her eyes locked on Eve's lifeless figure.

The past three days had been a frantic scramble. Wulfric, tapping into his vast knowledge of forgotten lore, had buried himself in the forbidden texts salvaged from Skyhall's depths. He'd unearthed something – a fragmented whisper of a ritual echoing Zariel's description. A fucked-up way, perhaps, to test the tether between an Incarnation and their god. Obscure as hell. Dangerously so. But it was something tangible.

Preparations had been meticulous. They'd reinforced Zariel's cage, layering runes and wards, a magical straitjacket designed to smother his power. Just in case the son of a bitch tried anything.

Elidyr, his hands glowing with a soft blue light, began to trace intricate runes onto the cold stone floor, his movements precise, his concentration absolute. Lailah, pale but resolute, arranged the components of the ritual. The nightmare beast's heart pulsed faintly in a silver bowl, a grotesque, organic clock. Moonflower petals shimmered with an otherworldly, silver light. And Eve's blood – a few precious drops, drawn from her preserved body, rested in a small crystal vial.

"Now," Elidyr declared, the word echoing in the chamber's heavy silence. "We begin this shit."

They followed Zariel's instructions, each step deliberate. The bizarre ingredients were combined in the silver chalice, the mixture swirling, emitting an unnatural luminescence.

"Smear it on her lips," Zariel instructed, the words a guttural rasp. "Then, the magic happens. I speak the words. The key to unlocking the connection."

Lailah's hands trembled almost imperceptibly as she unsealed the glass cylinder. The preserving fluid around Eve's body retreated, revealing her still, pale lips. Taking a steadying breath, she carefully applied the glowing concoction.

Zariel's eyes closed. His voice shifted, deepening, taking on a strange, rhythmic cadence. "Kad'hal'ash'tular ven'tlar as'zhal'a. Vash'no'gal'dar, mal'ak'zarthus," he chanted, the ancient words resonating with an unsettling power.

They held their breaths, every gaze fixed on Eve, waiting, hoping against hope for some goddamn sign.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity stretched thin and taut, a gasp ripped through the chamber's silence.

Eve's eyes snapped open.

Blank at first, like empty canvases. Then, slowly, a flicker of awareness, a pinpoint of light that widened, bringing focus.

Cindy, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs, launched herself at the glass cylinder. Her palms slammed against the cold surface. "Big Sister Eve!" she yelled, the words a messy tangle of relief and disbelief. "You're alive!"

Eve blinked, her gaze drifting around the chamber, her expression utterly lost. "Where… where am I?" she whispered, the voice rough, barely a thread of sound. "Why am I… in the… water? Where's…Ghost?"

Elidyr, shaking off the initial shock that had rooted him to the spot, stepped forward cautiously. "Tell us something only Eve would know," he demanded, the words firm, though a tremor betrayed the anxiety clawing at him.

Eve frowned, her brow furrowing in concentration, a familiar gesture. "Elidyr…you have a secret stash of wine," she murmured, her voice thin as spun glass. "Behind the… bookshelves. In your… workshop, you sneaky bastard."

Elidyr's eyes widened. He'd completely forgotten about that hidden cache. It was true as only she could have known about that. She had caught him pilfering a bottle, years ago, and never let him live it down.

"Eve…" he breathed, a wave of pure, unadulterated relief washing over him, almost knocking him off his feet.

But before he could find the words to express the sudden surge of hope, before Cindy could bombard her with a million questions, Eve's eyelids fluttered closed. Her body went slack, and all the newfound light was extinguished. She slumped back into the viscous fluid as the fragile connection, so briefly established, had snapped.