Hitman with a Badass System

As Borgin and his team delved deeper into the distillery district, Thoric, ever the pragmatist, muttered a begrudging word of thanks towards the barrier. "Thank the gods for this barrier, keeping the stench contained," he said, relieved that the foul smell was at least somewhat held at bay within the district's confines.

"Keep your eyes peeled. We need to find a suitable spot to set up the cage," Borgin urged his team to stay alert as his gaze swept across the desolate landscape of the district.

The cage they planned to construct was no ordinary trap. It was a masterpiece of design and enchantment, specifically engineered to contain powerful creatures. Engraved with runes capable of nullifying energy barriers, this cage was a testament to the skill of Abran, the renowned runemaster who met his untimely demise at the hands of the assassin in Aurumvale. Despite his lust for women, Abran's expertise in rune mastery was unparalleled. His work on the cage designed for environments as challenging as the distillery district was a clear indication of his extraordinary abilities.

As they scouted for an ideal location to set up their trap, Thoric spotted a shadow cast on the ground near a building a few buildings away. "Over there," he pointed out, alerting the group to the potential presence of their quarry.

Reacting swiftly, the team unsheathed their weapons, swords, spears, and bows at the ready and advanced cautiously toward the shadow, prepared for any sign of the Phoenix. Borgin issued a strategic command, instructing the old man and Linan, the young man who had brought news of the Phoenix, to hang back. "Get ready to build the cage as soon as we give the word," Borgin ordered.

The old man, understanding the gravity of their task, rubbed the space ring on his finger that contained the components necessary to construct the cage. "Be careful," he said as Borgin and the rest of the team edged closer to the shadow.

As they cautiously navigated their way to the source of the shadow, the team rounded the corner of the building and laid eyes on a red-haired youngster engrossed in poking at a broken distilling apparatus. The sight of the hair, each strand appearing as though woven from pure fire, sent a collective shiver down their spines, a silent alarm that they had indeed found their quarry: the Phoenix, in its human form.

Thoric, barely containing his astonishment, whispered to the team in a disjointed manner that reflected his disbelief. "Can it be?" he murmured, his eyes wide as saucers. A beat passed before he added. "No way... it's the Phoenix," his voice barely above a whisper, betraying his shock at the sight before them.

"What's he doing with that broken apparatus?" Borgin scrutinized the young Phoenix's actions with a keen eye. In a place like the distillery district, where apparatuses for potion making were a common sight, the interest of the Phoenix in such mundane objects piqued Borgin's curiosity. There was something about the way the Phoenix interacted with the broken pieces—a strange curiosity, almost childlike in its intensity—that caught Borgin's attention, hinting at a depth to the Phoenix that went beyond their initial understanding of the creature.

With a strategic nod to the old man and Linan, Borgin gave the go-ahead to start constructing the cage. The significance of this moment wasn't lost on anyone; capturing a being as rare as the Phoenix could change their fortunes forever. He then turned his attention back to his team, signaling them to fan out and prepare for an ambush. "Spread out and be ready," he whispered, his voice low but filled with command.

As the others quietly dispersed, finding the perfect hiding spots from which to spring their trap, Thoric and Borgin crept closer to the Phoenix, who remained absorbed in his examination of the broken distilling apparatus. "What a curious little contraption," Phoenix remarked, a feigned casualness in his tone as they closed the distance.

"Every time I meet a creature or beast that can talk, it freaks me out," Thoric muttered under his breath, a mix of awe and apprehension coloring his words.

Their approach didn't go unnoticed. Phoenix, hearing Thoric's comment, stood up and turned to face them. The sight of his fiery eyes, glowing with an otherworldly intensity, left no room for doubt. Borgin and Thoric stood frozen for a moment, their gaze locked on those burning eyes, the realization sinking in. They were indeed standing before the mythical Phoenix, the last of its kind—a creature of legend and power, now just a few paces away.

Observing the Phoenix closely, Thoric couldn't resist making a quip. "He doesn't look like much, just a golden egg-laying goose." Phoenix, taking Thoric's words quite literally and with an innocence characteristic of his nature, appeared slightly confused by the comparison. "There must be something wrong with your eyesight, dwarf. I am not a goose. I am in my human form, which is quite different from that of a goose," he responded earnestly, not grasping the metaphorical nature of Thoric's remark.

Thoric, taken aback by the Phoenix's literal interpretation and his calm, childlike innocence, frowned.

"There's nothing wrong with my eyesight, bird."

But Phoenix, unfazed by the dwarf's growing irritation, simply reiterated his confusion. "But you said I look like a goose that lays golden eggs," he pointed out, genuinely perplexed.

"To us, you are." Thoric's frustration only deepened as he growled back. It was clear that Thoric saw the Phoenix as a valuable prize, much like a mythical goose that could bring them untold wealth.

Once again, the Phoenix shook his head, his response highlighting his inability to understand the nuances of human expressions. "I am a Phoenix, not a goose," he stated plainly, his tone reflecting his straightforward understanding of the world around him.

Thoric's patience finally reached its breaking point, his characteristic dwarven temper ignited by the Phoenix's literal interpretations. "I'm going to enjoy caging you, bird," he declared, his voice thick with the promise of impending conflict. Without another word, he surged forward toward the Phoenix, his war hammer ready in his hands.

In the kingdom of Sagespire, the barriers suppressed one's cultivation, a fact that worked in Thoric's favor as he didn't need to concern himself with the Phoenix's potentially superior cultivation stage. Moreover, the kingdom's rules prohibiting conflict within its borders did not extend to creatures, allowing Thoric and his team to launch their attack on the Phoenix without fear of reprisal.

As Thoric charged, the rest of Borgin's team sprang into action. Crossbow bolts tied to nets and arrows zipped through the air, aiming to ensnare the Phoenix and immobilize him. Borgin, meanwhile, remained a step back, his gaze fixed on the unfolding scene, eager to discern any hint of the Phoenix's abilities that they could exploit.

However, before Thoric, the nets, or the arrows could make contact, the Phoenix's body erupted in pure red flames. The fire, intense and otherworldly, consumed the incoming projectiles, reducing them to ash in mere moments. The sight of the flames prompted Thoric to instinctively leap back, putting distance between himself and the sudden inferno.

The intense heat emanating from the Phoenix's protective flames left Thoric and Borgin momentarily stunned, the scorching aura so fierce it singed Thoric's beard, prompting an involuntary curse from the dwarf. Borgin, realizing the immediate danger, quickly stepped back to reassess the situation, his mind racing for a new approach.

"It's in your best interest to cease this and return to wherever you came from," Phoenix advised, his voice steady and serene, betraying no hint of distress despite the aggressive attempts to capture him.

Thoric, however, was not one to back down easily, especially not after having come so close to their target. "Not a chance," he declared defiantly, unwilling to abandon their mission. In a desperate bid to turn the tide, Thoric resorted to using smoke bombs and disorienting blast runes. With a flick of his wrist, he deployed these tools, hoping to cloud Phoenix's senses and catch him off guard.

The smoke bombs exploded in a dense cloud, enveloping the area in a thick haze, while the runes released disorienting pulses aimed at disrupting Phoenix's focus. Thoric's plan was to use this momentary confusion to his advantage, hoping to close the distance and secure the capture of the legendary creature.

Just as Thoric planned, the smoke bomb and the flash from the disorienting rune indeed achieved their intended effect, momentarily stunning the Phoenix. Thoric seized this opportunity, swinging his axe with precision, careful not to inflict a fatal wound on the Phoenix. However, the Phoenix's agility and awareness, even amidst disorientation, allowed him to narrowly evade the blade's edge.

In the heat of the moment, a peculiar scene unfolded. The Phoenix, rather than retaliating with his fiery powers, resorted to a surprisingly mundane form of defense. He delivered a swift kick to Thoric's rear, knocking the dwarf to the ground. But he didn't stop there; he continued to kick Thoric in the buttocks, each strike deliberate yet devoid of any apparent anger or aggression.

Thoric, taken aback by this unexpected turn of events, found himself on the receiving end of a series of humiliating kicks. "What the fuck? Stop that, you blasted bird!" he cursed, trying to scramble away from the Phoenix's unrelenting assault.

On the other hand, Gaya, who had been watching the unfolding scene from a distance alongside Michael, was both shocked and amused by what she saw. "He's literally kicking his butt," she exclaimed to Michael, barely able to contain her disbelief and laughter. Her intention had been to use "kick his butt" as a figure of speech, a common idiom to encourage Phoenix to defend himself aggressively. However, Phoenix, with his characteristic literal interpretation of her words, had taken her advice to heart in the most direct manner possible.

"I just said 'kick his butt' as a way to cheer him on, not...not this," Gaya sighed. The sight of the Phoenix, a being of mythic power and legend, actually kicking Thoric's butt in a literal interpretation of her encouragement was something she hadn't anticipated.

While witnessing the scene, Michael couldn't help but chuckle at the unexpected strategy employed by the Phoenix. "Well, he's certainly taking your words to heart," he remarked, finding humor in the situation. "Looks like we have to be a bit more specific with our instructions to him in the future. For now, let's get him out of here," Michael said before standing up from the log he was sitting on.