Hitman with a Badass System

Perched atop a serene mountaintop, a young boy with golden locks sat amidst a sprawling meadow, his gaze fixed upon the breathtaking canvas of colors painted across the sky as the sun gracefully descended. The hues of orange, pink, and purple melded together, casting a warm glow that bathed the world in a tranquil embrace.

Deep in thought, Harry, displayed a pensive expression beyond his tender age. Lost in contemplation, he seemed oblivious to the approach of a graceful woman carrying a bowl. This woman, none other than Layla Alden quietly settled beside him on the grass, her presence a gentle interruption to his musings.

"Harry, you haven't had a proper meal today," Layla gently reminded him, her voice carrying a blend of concern and affection.

Startled by his mother's voice, Harry blinked and turned his attention to her. His young mind wrestled with a pressing question that weighed heavily upon him. With a mixture of curiosity and innocence, he ventured to ask, "Mom, why does everyone say that Dad is evil? Is he truly a bad person?"

Rather than displaying shock or surprise, Layla sighed, weariness etched upon her face. She had grown accustomed to hearing such disparaging remarks aimed at Ghost, the Dark Lord who had captured the attention and scrutiny of all of Mazeroth. What Layla considered a stroke of luck was the fact that nobody knew Harry's true lineage, that he was the son of the feared Dark Lord himself.

"Harry, I've told you before, you're still too young to comprehend the complexities of the world fully," Layla replied, her tone gentle yet tinged with caution. She reached out and tenderly turned his face toward her own, knowing that, inadvertently, Harry had inherited the same piercing gaze that had defined his father, Ghost.

Desperation tugged at Harry's voice as he pleaded with his mother, "Please, Mom, I really need to know."

Layla observed her son's earnestness and couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy. The weight of the world seemed to rest upon his young shoulders, burdened by the judgment and fear surrounding his father's reputation.

"Why this sudden urgency, Harry?" Layla inquired, her concern etched in her voice.

Harry's voice quivered with a mix of apprehension and vulnerability as he revealed his innermost fears, "I can't bear it anymore, Mom. Everywhere I go, the children label him as the big, bad evil. Knowing that he is my father, I'm terrified that I might inherit his darkness."

The raw emotion in Harry's words struck Layla deeply, melting away the coldness that had enveloped her heart. Moved by her son's distress, she instinctively drew closer, enfolding him in a comforting embrace that exuded motherly warmth.

Gently, Layla reached for a morsel of honey-glazed rice from the bowl beside them, her hand moving with tenderness and care. She lifted the morsel to Harry's lips, offering sustenance and affection in a single gesture.

"Harry, my love, your father is not the monster that others perceive him to be," Layla assured him, her voice laced with sincerity and love.

Harry's voice trembled with uncertainty as he raised another question, "But Mom, I witnessed him... I saw him take Aunt Edith's life. People say he has caused harm to countless others. What if I become like him?"

Layla tenderly brushed away a few lingering grains of rice from the corner of Harry's lips before continuing to feed him, a gesture filled with love and reassurance.

"Aunt Edith's actions were clouded by her grief and anger, Harry," Layla explained gently. "Her choices led to someone trying to harm you. Your father is the kind of man who will go to any lengths to protect those he cares about and ensure justice is served."

Harry pondered his mother's words, chewing his food thoughtfully before swallowing. Despite his lack of appetite, the warmth and affection emanating from his mother's smile made the nourishment go down easier.

"But Mom, if he truly cares about us, why isn't he here?" Harry's voice quivered with longing and confusion.

Layla's eyes brimmed with understanding as she caressed her son's cheek, her voice filled with tenderness, "It's not that he's not with us, Harry. It's that we are not with him. You must know, my son, he didn't leave us. I made the choice to separate from him when he asked me to come with him."

As Harry's shock began to subside, Layla set aside the empty bowl, realizing that she couldn't withhold the truth any longer. Her son was growing rapidly, both physically and mentally, and she understood the importance of providing him with answers. She refused to let the world's perceptions shape Harry's thoughts, determined not to let him be swayed by external influences.

"He truly wanted us to be with him," Layla confirmed, her voice filled with sincerity, causing Harry's eyes to well up with tears of relief. In that moment, he realized that his father hadn't abandoned him, contrary to what he had believed. Harry's trust and love for his mother were unwavering, and when she assured him that his father wasn't the embodiment of evil as the world claimed, he wholeheartedly believed her.

Curiosity still tugged at Harry's heart, and he couldn't help but ask, "But why didn't you agree to go with him?" Layla let out a sigh, her gaze drifting toward the distant horizon.

"I made that choice because I didn't want us to become entangled in the war between the world and your father," Layla explained, her voice tinged with a touch of sadness. "Sometimes, leaving your loved ones is a way of loving them, Harry."

Harry's brow furrowed with contemplation, and he continued to seek clarity. "Professor Rake once said that if everyone calls a man evil, then he must be evil. So why is everyone fighting against Dad if he is a good man? And if he were to harm everyone, even his own family, wouldn't that only prove the world right? You've always told me that we cannot fight darkness with more darkness, Mom."

Layla's heart swelled with pride as she realized just how much Harry had grown. The image of him as a spirit child, ethereal and delicate, flashed in her mind. Now, standing before her, he was no longer a child or a baby she used to carry in her arms. He was a young man seeking truth and grappling with complex questions, and it was her duty to guide him through this labyrinth of uncertainty.

Layla took a deep breath, her eyes fixed on Harry's searching gaze. It was time to shed light on the truth, to reveal the complexities of their circumstances.

"Your father, Harry, once fought tirelessly to change the world's perception of him. But as time went on, he realized the futility of that battle. Instead, he chose to embrace the label placed upon him and set out to change the world itself. It's a fight he's winning, my dear. He'd rather be feared by everyone than allow them to pose a threat to him. But that doesn't make him evil. Your father has endured unimaginable suffering, more than anyone I've ever known. No one has the right to pass judgment on him. If they call him evil, then the world itself must bear that burden."

Layla understood Ghost's plight intimately, for she too had been caught in the web of difficult choices, trying to do what was best for their loved ones.

She couldn't forget the words of Wulfric, which had weighed heavily on her decision to leave Ghost. "The safest place for you and Harry is within the enemy lines, Lailah. If the Skyhall knew they had you both within their grasp, they wouldn't harm you. But if you chose to go with Ghost, they would hunt you down to hurt him." Those words echoed in her mind, reminding her of the risks they faced.

The weight of her decision to leave Ghost behind had been a heavy burden on Layla's heart. But in her mind, it was the choice that would ensure their safety, even if it meant being apart from the man they loved.

"Mom, is it true that Dad used to be a student in Mazeroth?" Harry's curiosity peaked as he leaned in closer, eager to learn more about his father. The rumors and whispers from other children had intrigued him, and he wanted to hear the truth from his mother's perspective.

"Yes, it's true, Harry," Lailah confirmed, a fond smile playing on her lips as she reminisced. "Your father was not only a student, but he was also considered one of the brightest. Professor Lane, who was known for his alchemy expertise, took a special interest in Ghost's abilities. They had a unique bond, like mentor and protégé. Your father's talent as an alchemist surpassed all expectations. He was a true master of his craft."

Harry's eyes widened in awe. He had always heard stories of his father's notorious deeds, but this new revelation sparked a sense of pride within him. He wanted to know more about the man behind the reputation.

"But, Mom," Harry continued, "why does everyone only focus on the bad things? Are there no good deeds that Dad has done?"

Lailah's smile grew warmer as she gently brushed a strand of hair away from Harry's face. "Oh, my dear boy, the world often forgets about the goodness in people when darkness overshadows them. Your father's true nature goes beyond the rumors and fear surrounding him. There is a side to him that many have not seen."

She paused for a moment, her eyes glimmering with fond memories. "Did you know that there is a small town called Bradford? Your father single-handedly transformed it from a struggling fishing village into a thriving community. The people there look up to him as their savior. He used his alchemical knowledge and resources to bring prosperity and happiness to their lives. Does that sound like something an evil man would do?"

Harry's eyes widened with amazement. He never imagined his father as a hero or a bringer of happiness. This newfound knowledge shattered the image the world had painted of Ghost.

"Dad walks the line between good and bad, my love," Lailah continued, her voice filled with affection. "He is a complex individual, driven by his own sense of justice and determination. Most people in this world can be easily categorized as either good or bad, but your father defies such simplistic labels. He seeks to protect those he cares about and fights for a cause he believes in, even if it means facing the world's judgment."

Harry pondered his mother's words, trying to reconcile the conflicting images of his father in his mind. He realized that he had only scratched the surface of understanding who Ghost truly was. The stories of his kindness and brilliance began to overshadow the tales of darkness and fear.

Curiosity still burning in his eyes, Harry couldn't help but ask another question. "Mom, Sister Johana and Nerita said something about you trying to kill Dad once. Is that true?"

"Ah, those two can't seem to keep a secret," Lailah sighed, her voice filled with both amusement and exasperation. After a moment, she composed herself and met Harry's gaze.

"Women can sometimes get really angry, Harry. It's like a storm inside them, and it's best for a man to agree with them even if they haven't done anything wrong, just to keep the peace. But your dad was different. He didn't back down easily. When we had an argument, he stood his ground and actually made a lot of sense," Lailah explained with a warm smile.

Harry's young mind struggled to comprehend his mother's words. He furrowed his brow and tilted his head in confusion. "So, you tried to hurt him when he made sense?" he asked, seeking clarification.

Lailah chuckled softly, realizing the need to simplify her explanation. "Well, when a man makes sense in an argument, sometimes a woman might react by crying or even wanting to hurt him. It's like a strange rule," she said, trying to find a lighthearted tone.

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. He couldn't quite grasp the idea that someone could respond with violence when faced with sense and reason. It seemed illogical to him. "But that doesn't make sense, Mom. Why would someone want to hurt another person when they're making sense?" he asked innocently.

Lailah's laughter filled the air as she saw the genuine confusion on Harry's face. She realized that trying to simplify the explanation further was necessary. "You're right, my dear. It doesn't make much sense, does it? Sometimes, people can react in unpredictable ways, even to things that seem logical. It's a quirk of human nature, I suppose," she replied, her tone gentle and understanding.

Harry nodded, accepting his mother's explanation. He may not fully comprehend the intricacies of adult interactions, but he trusted his mother's words. After all, she had always been his guiding light, the one who offered love and reassurance in even the most confusing times.

The conversation faded into a comfortable silence as mother and son sat together, the fading light of the day casting a warm glow around them. Harry felt a sense of peace settling within him, knowing that even in the midst of complexity, his mother would always be there to offer guidance and love.