Chapter 5: Metropolis

'Now this is more like it'.

Hit was pleasantly surprised by the sights that welcomed him: bustling shops, huge crowds, a multitude of stalls selling trinkets and baubles. Orario was the heart of humanity in this world, producing all the necessary energy and resources for its growth. As an expert assassin, Hit had learned how to expertly meander through crowds like a fish through water and could pinpoint his targets instantly.

'I could do without the escort though'. It was for this reason that he noticed a straggler.

The former assassin glanced behind him; a guard struggled to keep up with him, almost stumbling over people and dropping his spear as he went.

'Such an obvious stalker. They haven't even bothered to blend in with the crowd'. Hit shook his head. 'I'll show this newbie how it's done'.

Hit proceeded to effortlessly weave between oncoming pedestrian traffic; the guard blinked, and his quarry was gone.

This disappearing act was a cinch to Hit, he was a legendary figure after all. Concealing his presence was essential to navigating the cosmos. His prey never knew of his approach until it was too late.

"Wait...What!? Where did he go?", the fledgling guard exclaimed in a panicked voice. He turned his head left and right as he scanned his surroundings, anxiously, to no avail.

"Lady Varma's gonna kill me!" The young man pulled at his hair in worry.

'Better luck next time'. Hit peeked from behind a corner, leading into a dimly lit alley. Having had his fun, he got back to business: getting a layout of this new area.

'I should stick to the shadows, much easier to gather data.' Hit silently phased into the murk.

The labyrinthine passageways were a struggle, even for Hit, but he had dealt with similar cities in the past. Buildings encircled a focal point of some sort, in this case the tower of Babel. Major Roads jutted out from the centre and allowed the transport of supplies to and from the core of the settlement. Overall, this pattern made the city look like a cartwheel from above, fitting as it perfectly described the rhythm of city life: a perpetual cycle of activity. As the day went by, Hit noticed a large congregation of people entered and exited the tower of Babel, as if it were breathing.

'They must be taking shifts in the dungeon, routinely coming out to refuel at a local eatery'.

Hit had learned a lot today simply through observation. Firstly, he had found the entry point to the dungeon, and the schedules of on-duty guards. He thought the archways leading into the tower were quite petite, in relation to the edifice's size. 'They likely act as a funnel to focalise any monsters that escape, and trap the larger variety. An invasion would therefore be far simpler to deal with.'

Secondly, he had pinpointed several points of interest: food stalls; secluded spots; and several cafés and restaurants. Hit clicked his tongue. 'Tch. No library... These people must store their information somewhere...'

A colossal colosseum sat on the far East side of the wheel-like city. Strangely, no events seemed to be taking place; all Hit could see were several cages, and people deliberating over diagrams and plans.

In addition, there were some establishments that demanded further scrutiny. Two shops advertised drinkable elixirs of some kind. One's exterior was adorned with gold carvings and had a 'healing' motif, while the other was much more modest in its construction. What effects did these items confer to the drinker, Hit wondered.

Another shop purveyed odd looking objects: long staffs decorated with shimmering gems, and foggy crystal balls. Hit recognised these as tools used for Magic, a rare, but widely applicable ability in his former universe. 'Is the use of magic common in this city?'

He also noted that the diversity of people was far greater within the confines of the city. There were far too many varieties of demi humans to count, from svelte cat people to stocky weretigers. The rarer pointy eared individuals who passed by, were the first elves Hit had come across. They moved elegantly and dressed in meticulously designed frilly clothing, overdressed compared to the other races, who favoured utility. Occasionally, they wore a snooty look on their faces as they crossed their fellow city dwellers; maybe they saw the younger races as slightly immature. Hit could relate. Regardless, the conviction of the young should still be respected, Goku taught him that first-hand.

Finally, there was a building, to the northwest of the tower, that passers-by called the 'guild'. It was a wide brick building with metal-barred windows and bands of white plaster on its exterior. Colourful banners hung near the entrance, presumably denoting world powers. His searched finished, Hit contemplated what to do next.

Someone who knew Hit in his former life, might be wondering why he was skulking around these back alleys. Why not just waltz around in the open? Principally, he did not want to be distracted as he took in the main features of his new environment. Also, it was out of force of habit; he often surveyed new areas before going to his target. Anyway, it was more fun this way; the city was a puzzle for Hit to solve.

Hit paced back and forth, perplexed at the absence of a library. 'The next best place would be a tavern or bar. Alcohol loosens the tongue, after all'.

He pulled his hand from under his chin and casually slipped it back into the safety of his pocket. 'I need to find out more about the dungeon and its divers. Logically, I should start at a place they frequent'.

Shadows had begun to lengthen as the day grew darker. People poured out of dungeon like ants from a nest and switched to exploring the city above. Hit frowned. 'But not before getting rid of this pest'.

A shadowy figure rushed out from behind a corner, poised to strike with a chipped knife. It twinkled in the darkness like an approaching comet.

Hit twisted his body to avoid the deadly attack and looked down, menacingly, as his attacker passed by; the assailant gasped and overextended, leaving themselves wide open.

"Kh...Ghaaa!"

The robed figure spluttered as Hit kicked upwards and struck their stomach, winding them. A high-pitched sound resonated through the passageway as his weapon clattered on the ground.

The powerful kick continued and sent the attacker flying into the opposite wall, their head meeting stone with a resounding crack.

Hit capitalised on this and launched a series of precise jabs at specific body parts: neck and joints. His opponent could not resist in the slightest, still dazed from the previous injury.

This technique was known as a pressure point attack and could be used to paralyse; knock out; or kill the recipient, if they were caught off guard. Every living being possessed weak points, even gods of destruction, who were often reprimanded by their guardian angels.

Hit tore the robes off his would-be assassin and frowned at their identify. A lanky elven man stared back at Hit, a look of hatred on their visage. The now unmasked man convulsed in place, their eyes twitching from side to side, looking for a way to escape.

"What the fuck have you done to me!? Why can't I move!?". The elf's ears flickered as he shouted in a shaky voice. A cold sweat streaked down his porcelain face; they were like live prey trapped with a predator.

"Your resistance is futile; I have restricted your movements". Hit looked a little bored as he explained the position the elf was in. He had expected a little more.

"Dammit! Cheating bastard! Filthy human scum!" Fear bled away into fury as the rat gained some confidence from somewhere.

*Crack*

Hit stomped on the man's forearm and a sickening snap ensued.

"Aaaahhhhh!" The man's eyes rolled back, and he screamed like a banshee.

Hit set his foot back on the ground. 'Silence, or I'll shatter the rest of your limbs.' Red eyes shone like lasers in the gloomy corridor.

True fear was etched on the poor creature's face now, whimpers escaping him intermittently. He nodded as a show of submission.

Hit was angered now, although he kept his poker-face. "Answer me this. What about me being human makes me scum to you?"

The elf's teeth chattered as he put on a facsimile of a smile. "I-I'm sorry! Really! J-Just let me go and you'll never see me again!"

Hit took a step closer "I did not ask for a fake apology. Answer the question."

A look of defiance sprouted briefly on the bandit before it died down once he stared a true slaughterer in the face. "H-humans are weak, they are not born with magic, like we are. Their lives are short, like animals. Easy prey." The filth's fake smile grew into a sinister sneer.

*C...crack*

Hit stomped a foot down again, this time breaking a femur on its descent.

"Aaaaahhhhhhhhhh!" Another shrill shriek burst from the pitiful elf. "...you... fhastard...". The supremacist's weak bleating was muffled by the pain he had suffered.

Hit turned around and walked off, scowling. "Sit there and rot".

A person stealing to survive could be somewhat understood; one who killed others for pleasure was the lowest of the low.

Hit continued, unabated; luckily the skirmish took place on the city outskirts, where such events occurred frequently. Part of him wanted to dispose of the wretch, free of charge. Hit shook his head. That thing did not deserve a warrior's death.

Pedestrians kept a wide berth around Hit as he stepped onto the main road. He had an aura of rage about him. This was the main west road to be exact, the busiest street in Orario.

Hit licked his chapped lips. 'I need a drink, something strong'.

Music and cheers of merriment sounded out from a rustic building to his left. 'Hostess of Fertility' was carved into a wooden plaque on its side. Hit made his way towards it. 'This should do – an inn not too far from the dungeon.'

ゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴ

Hit froze. A suffocating wave of pressure plummeted onto him, feelings of deep desire and desperation radiating from it. 'One nuisance right after another.'

A heartbeat later and Hit carried on as if no one was spying on him. 'Can't let them know I've sensed them.'

Hit allowed the being to peer at him, feeling quite bare under their gaze. It gave him precious time to pinpoint the voyeur.

'Up above, someone's watching me from the highest point of that tower'. Target acquired, Hit quickened his pace and dove into the bustling inn.

A woman gazed out from her perch on the fiftieth floor of the tower of Babel, the wide window giving her a panoramic view of the city below. She looked out impassively, interest not piqued. Wine sloshed as she twirled a crystal glass between her gloved fingers. She rested on a red velvet throne, bordered by solid gold. Her skin-tight black and burgundy dress did not leave much to the imagination, and a flowery hair ornament clung to her silver hair. This was the sublime Goddess of Beauty, Freya. While most gods did not possess any special traits, having descended, Freya possessed an allure so powerful that it could bewitch even her fellow gods. A yawn escaped her delicate mouth as she covered it with a dainty hand.

"Nothing today either..." Her appetite for talented individuals had not been satiated for some time now. The goddess had been lackadaisical as of late, uninspired.

Then she noticed... Him...

*Cr...Splash*

Wine stained the floor crimson as Freya lost her composure, agape at what she saw. "Impossible... Ludicrous... Inconceivable..."

A perpetually spinning, globular object drifted across the street. It was an icy purple in colour and emitted fine particles of light that danced around it. A tubular creature of some kind writhed within, angry. Shockwaves reverberated across the orb as it tested the boundaries of its prison. It was a completely alien concept to the woman. Instead of rotating, the luminous sphere danced through dimensions, gliding across our third dimensional realm. Only a small cross section of the fourth dimensional entity was visible to the goddess. This soul was like nothing she had ever seen.

After a millennium of skipping time, the being's soul had been irreversibly altered. Time exerts itself as the frequency of longitudinal energy waves; however, it is not constant and changes with an object's motion. Instead, the concept of 'time' itself had somehow merged with this mortal.

Freya was able to witness this splendour due to her more discreet ability: her 'Freya sight'. As the name suggests, she was able to peer into people's souls and view them as pulsing colours. Specific hues and shades elucidated any special qualities a mortal may possess, and allowed her to pick out those with the most potential. For this reason, it was viewed as a cheat ability by many gods.

Some souls shone like gold, indicating their bearers were capable of limitless growth. Most were dull and grey. She had never seen anything like this human's soul, if it could even be referred to as such.

"It's as if something was forced to surface in our world from unfathomable depths." Freya pressed her body against the glass. "Oh, I simply must have you". Slender hands snaked their way across her flushed face as she leered at the newest object of her adoration.