Hitman with a Badass System

Eventually, the battlefield quieted as the last of the angels and elders fell. Methodical and unemotional, the dark army began stripping the fallen angels of their armor and weapons. Each piece of armor was carefully removed and collected while the lifeless bodies were unceremoniously tossed into the dark ocean below. The process seemed almost ritualistic from their floating mountain, a grim cycle of plunder and discard.

Meanwhile, the ground where the battle had raged was now stained with blood, painting the rocky surface a stark, deep red. Below, the dark ocean churned angrily, decorated with the remnants of the Skyhall ship as burning wood and debris floating amidst the sinking bodies.

As the last body was thrown into the watery abyss, Nithroel turned to Michael, her expression unreadable yet tinged with a hint of satisfaction. The chaos of the battle had not diminished her regal demeanor. If anything, it had reinforced the aura of authority around her.

"Now that we have taken care of this pesky problem," she began casually.

"Let's talk about our next plan," Her eyes gleamed with strategic foresight, already moving past the victory to the next phase of her big plan.

Overlooking the battlefield's remnants, Nithroel stood calmly as though she had done nothing and then turned her gaze back to Michael. "The Skyhall resides not within our realm but in a pocket dimension attached to the Akilan realm," she explained. As usual, her voice carried the weight of authority yet remained clear and direct, easy for all to understand.

"To destroy them completely, we must venture into the Akilan realm and, from there gain entry to the Skyhall's headquarters,"

When he heard the mention of the Akilan Realm, Michael immediately thought about his time at Mazeroth Academy there as a student. His mind wandered through memories of lecture halls, the challenges he faced, and the stern yet wise professors who had once guided him.

He sighed deeply, a hint of nostalgia mixed with the bitter reality of his current reputation. "Those were simpler times," he murmured to himself. Now, as the Dark Lord and a god who had plunged the entire mortal realm into darkness, he knew those same mentors and peers would view him in a starkly different light as The Dark Lord rather than a promising student.

Finally, after a long moment of silence, Nithroel broke the silence with her calm voice. "We are up against formidable forces," she began, her tone even but firm. "The Skyhall possesses a massive army, including many half-immortals and immortals who are not part of the Immortal Council. They also have some half-celestial elders in seclusion who may emerge if Skyhall is threatened. Plus, they are equipped with an arsenal of magical artifacts whose powers are not fully known to us, and weapons capable of massive destruction." She continued. "Given that Skyhall was founded by Andohr, we can be certain he fortified it with robust safety measures. We should brace for a significant battle. However, this is the opportune moment to strike, while Andohr likely stirs chaos within the Pantheon. His distractions could provide us the advantage we need."

"Be prepared, though; we're going in with limited intelligence. There will be losses." Nithroel's eyes scanned the faces around her as she added.

"I've lost enough people already. I will lead the charge with only a handful of our best. We shouldn't risk more lives unnecessarily." Michael responded firmly,

"It's a wise choice, Michael. It will be dangerous, but perhaps less so with a smaller, more agile force." Nithroel sighed, acknowledging his decision with a nod.

For a moment, Nithroel let her words sink in as she wanted them to know the dangers before heading into the lion's den for the final confrontation. But Nithroel could see something was flickering in Michael's eyes, a bit of concern and she knew what it was about.

"Harry and Lailah are safe," she assured. "Wulfric is protecting them. Once we've dealt with Skyhall, you can go and meet them."

"However, I would advise against visiting them before we attack Skyhall. They are in Akilan Realm, and it's best they don't see the necessary actions we must take against Skyhall. They might not understand the reasons behind our drastic measures." Her eyes softened slightly, a rare glimpse of empathy in her usually stern demeanor. "Once we launch our assault on their headquarters, there's no turning back." Nithroel cautioned, "Are you seriously telling me that after we just obliterated a Skyhall ship? Honey, we crossed the point of no return a long time ago." Michael responded with a light chuckle,

A slight smile broke through Nithroel's usually composed expression. "Very well, gather your attack team and meet me by Stormville Mountain in five days," she instructed.

With a clap of her hands, the steps of her airship unfurled gracefully, reaching down to the ground. Nithroel ascended the steps with regal poise and disappeared into the ship. Moments later, the engines of the massive vessel roared to life, and it began its journey toward Stormville Mountain, where the legendary Mugashuku was said to reside.

Once Nithroel's ship had vanished into the distance, Michael turned to his followers, his voice cutting through the quiet aftermath of their earlier conflict. "Alright, let's head back to the castle. We've got a war to prepare for," he announced, his tone firm and commanding.

As they made their way back, Michael halted his steps and looked over his shoulder at Azazel.

"Dismiss the army and keep the guards on high alert. We can't afford any fucking surprises now."

"Understood, my lord." Azazel nodded sharply.

Upon returning to the castle, Michael walked towards his throne hall. The hall was vast and shrouded in shadows, with only flickering torches casting eerie lights on the walls. His throne, crafted from skulls and bones, sat atop an elevated platform, asserting a grim dominance over the space. Michael ascended the steps to his throne with a heavy, determined stride and seated himself with a sigh.

He then gestured to Trista, Lenora, and Elidyr, who took their respective thrones arrayed around him, their faces set with the gravity of their impending task.

Lenora broke the silence, her voice a mix of resolve and apprehension, "We're finally doing it, huh?"

Trista responded with a determined nod, "It's about time. We can't let them keep fucking around with us or the realms."

Elidyr leaned forward from his throne, clearing his throat to capture everyone's attention in the dimly lit hall. "We should be prepared for some tough resistance. But remember, the chaos caused by the hydra attack has thinned out Skyhall's forces considerably. It's a damn good time for us to strike."

Lenora and Trista exchanged glances, both still processing the recent events. "I knew Nithroel was powerful, but her ruthlessness today... it was something else." Lenora finally spoke, her voice tinged with a mix of awe and unease.

"Yeah, it's fucking scary. Is that just how all these gods operate? All smiles and beauty on the surface but ready to stab you in the back the second it suits them?" Trista nodded in agreement.

"Ruthlessness is a trait many gods share, especially when their thrones or realms are threatened. Nithroel's no different. She's playing her cards, and she's playing them hard. We just need to make sure we're not the ones getting played in the end." Michael calmly said.

As they were discussing, Azazel calmly entered the throne hall and bowed deeply before Michael. He was still dressed in his impeccable butler attire. His demeanor didn't change despite the recent revelation about his blood lust. "My lord," Azazel began, his voice as composed as ever, "I have dismissed the assembled army. They have been divided into patrol groups to secure the floating mountain and monitor the dark ocean for any signs of trouble."

He stood straight, waiting for Michael's acknowledgement or further commands. The dark hall, illuminated by flickering torches, cast long shadows across the ornate skulls and bones that adorned Michael's throne. "What are your next orders, my lord?" Azazel asked.

Leaning against her throne, Trista looked over with interest, her sharp features highlighted by the dim light.

"Yeah, who are you bringing with you to attack Skyhall?" Her voice carried a hint of challenge, eager to see how Michael would strategize their next move in the upcoming war.

Michael pondered for a moment, rubbing his chin thoughtfully before making a decision. "I'll bring one of the elder vampires, but not all of them," he announced decisively. "If Skyhall has any countermeasures against elder vampires, bringing them all would end in disaster. But if they don't, and we manage to break their defenses or countermeasures against elder vampires, if they have any, the others can be our backup force and stay in the Akilan Realm."

Trista and Lenora exchanged a look, nodding in agreement with Michael's strategy.

"I will bring Azazel," Michael added, his voice firm.

For a moment, the room was thick with tension as everyone absorbed the implications of his words. Trista's eyes widened, and she couldn't help but ask.

"Is it wise to bring him to a place where it could trigger Azazel's bloodlust?"

"We need to use that against our enemies as an advantage," Michael explained confidently.

"But in the future, I will deal with Azazel's bloodlust permanently."

Azazel, who had stood silent during the exchange, was both grateful and surprised by Michael's statement. After everything Nithroel said, Azazel did not expect Michael to bring him to the war against the Skyhall. It showed Azazel the depth of trust the Dark Lord placed upon him, and he was forever grateful for it.

"I won't fail you, my lord." He bowed deeply.

Then, Elidyr cleared his throat, drawing attention to himself as he slowly raised his voice. The dark elf had a bone to pick with the Skyhall, and he wasn't willing to stand by and watch it from the sidelines.

"You'll need to bring me with you as well. As a runemaster, I can handle barriers and other surprises we might encounter."