Hitman with a Badass System

Three days later, Michael stood before his newly forged armor, his expression a mix of satisfaction and raw anticipation. "Now this is how you make a damn entrance," he muttered to himself, eyeing the imposing silhouette of the armor.

Crafted from Shadowforged ingots and the shattered remnants of his old dark ore armor, the suit was a masterpiece of dark, formidable metal that seemed to swallow the light around it. Every plate and joint was meticulously designed to offer supreme protection without sacrificing mobility. The dark ore remnants added an extra layer of toughness.

The chest of the armor featured the pulsating rune of secrecy embedded directly into the metal beneath a menacing skull centerpiece. The rune glowed faintly, its magic creating an aura of obscurity that shielded Michael from prying magical spells and arrays. The eyes of the skull glinted red, a stark contrast against the dark metal, adding an eerie quality to the armor.

Along the edges of each plate, red lines traced intricate patterns, imbued with a fear toxin that was far more potent than before. The lines were not just decorative; they served as conduits for the toxin, releasing it in a fine mist around him, subtly undermining the resolve of his enemies before the actual confrontation.

His skull mask had been refitted and enhanced, now featuring a more angular and aggressive design to match the rest of the armor. The eyes of the mask glowed a fierce red, aligning with the aesthetic of the armor, completing the terrifying image of a warlord who was both shadow and specter.

"And this cape," Michael continued, his tone admiring as he referred to the redesigned cape that hung from his shoulders. The cape mimicked the appearance of wings, crafted from a clever layering of the Shadowforged ingots, giving it a fluid, almost organic look. When spread, they appeared like the wings of some malevolent creature, poised to unfurl at his command.

"This armor isn't just for show, it's a goddamn war machine," he declared, running a gloved hand over the smooth, cold surface of the chest plate. The integration of the old and new metals not only represented his past and future battles but also made the armor uniquely powerful.

"Let's see who's dumb enough to fuck with me now," Michael said with a dark grin.

Michael placed his palm squarely on the chest of the armor, where the intricate runes and sensors lay embedded beneath the dark surface. As his hand made contact, the runes pulsed a deep red, recognizing his unique signature. With a mechanical hiss and a series of satisfying clicks, the armor plates seamlessly parted down the middle, opening up like the jaws of some great beast ready to devour its prey.

"About damn time," Michael muttered, stepping into the opened armor. He slid his legs in first, feeling the cold kiss of the metal against his skin as the inner linings adjusted to his form. The interior was a network of fine mesh and padding, laced with conduits that connected directly to the fear toxin systems and potion dispensers.

As he thrust his arms forward into the gauntlets, sensors activated along the joints, calibrating to his movements with precision. The chest piece and back plate closed behind him, enveloping him in a near-silent embrace. The clinks and clanks of the plates locking into place resonated in the empty forge.

"Fits like a glove," he said with a grin, flexing his arms and rotating his shoulders to test the range of motion. The armor moved with him fluidly, as if it were a natural extension of his body, not missing a beat.

The skull mask awaited him on a stand nearby. He grabbed it, feeling the familiar coolness of the metal. As he lowered the mask over his head, the red glowing eyes came to life, syncing with his vision. The world took on a sharper, more defined look, every detail enhanced by the integrated vision enhancements.

"Time to show them what hell really looks like," Michael declared, his voice slightly muffled by the mask. As the cape settled on his shoulders, it caught the light, casting ominous shadows that played along the walls of the forge.

He walked towards the mirror, each step resonating with the weight and power of the armor. Standing before his reflection, he couldn't help but smirk at the sight. The menacing figure staring back was more than just a man—it was the God of Darkness reborn with veangence.

"Let the games begin," he whispered to his reflection, Feeling the rush of his new armor, Michael decided to put it through its paces in the forge. He started with a series of acrobatic maneuvers, each movement sleeker and more confident than the last. First, a quick dash forward, a blur to any onlooker, followed by a high, twisting jump that carried him effortlessly over a workbench. He landed on the balls of his feet, knees bending to absorb the impact with a precision that felt supernatural.

"Hell yeah, this is fucking light!" he exclaimed, thrilled by the lack of resistance he felt with each move. The armor didn't just fit but it was enhanced, making him faster, and more agile. He couldn't resist a smug grin as he rolled into a crouch and then sprung up into a backflip, feeling more like a deadly specter than a man in a metal suit.

The real test came when he sprinted toward the wall. Pushing off with one foot, he flipped backward, feeling the rush of air and the sheer responsive agility of the armor. "Damn, I'm practically flying in this thing!"

As he landed, the cape which up until now had flowed dramatically behind him neatly pulled itself into the armor's back. In the same fluid motion, the sword sheathes extended with a mechanical whir, readying themselves as he drew his twin dark swords with a satisfying hiss of metal against metal. The swords felt like extensions of his own arms, perfectly balanced and deadly.

"Time to light up the show," Michael muttered with a wicked grin. Turning his palm outward, he activated the built-in flamethrower. A spurt of intense flame shot forth, controlled and directed, scorching a metal scrap target across the room. The fire danced violently before extinguishing on command, leaving behind the charred remains of what was once a sturdy chunk of metal.

"Works like a fucking charm!" he shouted, more to himself than anyone else. The smell of burnt metal filled the air, a testament to the flamethrower's potency.

Not stopping there, Michael tested the other upgrades. A quick tap at his wrist brought the automatic potion dispenser to life, emitting a soft hiss as it administered a mock dose of adrenaline boost as his senses heightened momentarily, simulating the battlefield rush.

Lastly, he tested the gas ejector. With a flick of his wrist, the mask's mouthpiece emitted a small puff of smoke, a harmless test compound that mimicked the fear-inducing toxin it was calibrated to release. The effectiveness was visible as the smoke quickly filled an area, demonstrating its capacity to disperse widely and rapidly.

"With this gear, I'm unstoppable," Michael boasted, sheathing his swords with a confident snap. Each piece of the armor had performed flawlessly, combining defense and attack capabilities that would make him a true terror on any battlefield.

Michael flicked through the systems integrated into his armor, his eyes lighting up as he checked the functionality that absorbed energy from the arch crystals stored in a hidden compartment. This system was a game-changer, dispersing energy throughout his suit, enabling him to utilize spells and arch energy, and even fly in areas devoid of ambient magical energy.

"Let's take this beast for a spin," Michael muttered to himself, eager to test the armor in the wild, chaotic environment of the Demon's Grave. He strode through the dark, narrow corridors of his forge, the clinking of his armor echoing ominously off the stone walls.

As he stepped out of the forge, the familiar harsh red sky of the Demon's Grave stretched out above him, casting a bloody hue over the desolate, barren landscape. His gaze fell on the colossal bull that dominated the view, its massive form so large it seemed to touch the sky. Around it, several giant bats fluttered, appearing minuscule in comparison to the peaceful giant that graced the desolate ground.

"What in the hell is up with that bull?" Michael shook his head, marveling at the creature's enormity. "Is there some ancient tale behind you, big guy?" He wondered if it might be one of the ancient beasts of legend but quickly decided not to provoke such a potentially powerful entity. "Better not piss off the big bull," he concluded with a smirk.

Instead, Michael's attention turned to the bats and other denizens of the Demon's Grave. "Time to hunt some lesser beasts," he declared, feeling the adrenaline start to pump through his veins.

With a confident grin, he leaped from the volcanic mountain where his forge was nestled. The armor's systems adjusted seamlessly to his movement, enhancing his descent into a controlled plummet. He landed heavily on the ground below, the impact sending cracks spider-webbing across the hard, dry soil.

"Alright, let's see what kind of trouble I can stir up down here." Michael cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders as he surveyed the eerie landscape.