Hitman with a Badass System

Realizing that the Dark Lord was up to something more sinister with his army, Elder Tarsus felt a surge of rage that made the veins on his head bulge visibly. The thought of personally confronting Michael flashed across his mind, but he quickly dismissed it. The power gap between them was immense as facing the Dark Lord head-on would be suicide. Tarsus knew he wouldn't last a second against such a deadly and powerful foe. His role was to coordinate the assault on the Dark Lord, a task assigned to him by Skyhall.

Understanding that the rest of the demons would soon adapt their strategy to avoid being caught and submerged, Tarsus needed to ensure Michael stayed preoccupied. He barked orders at his minions as his voice carried the moment's urgency and desperation. "Fire everything we've got at the Dark Lord! Keep him busy!"

The crew sprang into action, relaying the orders across the ship. "All cannons, target the Dark Lord!" one of the officers shouted, his voice echoing across the deck.

"Ready the ballistae and fire at will!" another commanded as the crew scrambled to their positions.

The air filled with the sound of gears cranking and cannons being loaded. Within moments, the ship's artillery unleashed a relentless barrage. Cannonballs, arrows, and other projectiles flew through the air, converging on Michael's position with lethal intent.

As the assault began, the demons adjusted their tactics, avoiding the water and staying clear of potential traps. They coordinated their attacks, aiming to overwhelm Michael with sheer numbers and ferocity, all while the artillery fire from above kept him on the defensive. The battlefield was littered with destruction, explosions and battle cries merging into a deafening roar.

Elder Tarsus watched intently, hoping the combined might of his forces would be enough to keep the Dark Lord occupied and prevent him from enacting any more of his devious plans.

On the other hand, Michael shot forth into the sky faster than before, his movements a blur of speed and power. As he ascended, he began casting the Meteor spell. The already darkened sky grew even darker, an ominous shift that made the Skyhall angels halt in their tracks. They sensed something big was coming.

"Shit, he's casting a spell!" one of the angels shouted, eyes wide with panic.

"Brace yourselves, he's calling down fucking meteors!" another angel yelled, frantically looking for cover.

The demons, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, quickly spread out to avoid being caught in a group by the spell's devastating effects.

Suddenly, the dark clouds parted, and three massive meteors slowly descended, their fiery tails lighting up the sky. Even the flames' light seemed dimmer and more ominously red in the aftermath of Noah, the god of light's death. The meteors hissed as they tore through the dark sky, their descent a harbinger of destruction.

On the airships and sea warships, the Skyhall angels and crew members reacted in panic. "Holy fuck, he's bringing down meteors!" one of the ship captains screamed, his voice barely audible over the rising chaos.

"Get off the ship! Get the hell off now!" another crew member shouted, pushing others towards the edges of the deck.

The scene was one of utter chaos as many crew members jumped into the sea, desperate to escape the impending impact. Angels took to the air, flapping their wings furiously to gain altitude and avoid the deadly projectiles.

The first meteor collided with an airship, the impact tearing through its structure like paper. The explosion sent debris flying in all directions, lighting up the sky with a burst of fire and smoke. The second meteor burned through the sky, its trajectory unyielding as it smashed into a frigate below. The ship was engulfed in flames, splintering apart as the force of the meteor turned it into a blazing inferno.

"Shit! Everyone off the ship, now!" a sailor screamed, diving into the ocean as the fire spread.

"Goddamn it, we're doomed!" another yelled as the meteor hit, the ship disintegrating under the massive force.

The third meteor fell straight into the ocean, creating a colossal boiling wave. The wave surged forward, crashing into nearby warships and sweeping sailors off their decks.

"The water's boiling! Jump, jump!" a frantic voice called out, as men leaped overboard to escape the scalding heat.

As the devastation unfolded below, Michael's system went wild, bombarding him with notifications.

[Ding! Congratulations to the host for successfully being a badass. The reward is 40,000 Badass points]

[Ding! Congratulations to the host for successfully being a badass. The reward is 80,000 Badass points]

[Ding! Congratulations to the host for successfully being a badass. The reward is 50,000 Badass points]

Michael ignored the notifications, his focus on the demons that had spread out, protecting themselves from the meteors and evading his trap of catching them with nets and drowning them in the water. "Smart bastards," he muttered, a smirk forming on his lips.

He raised his hands again, ready to unleash another spell. The Skyhall angels and the few who had barely survived the meteor strike watched in horror.

"He's casting again! Fuck, stop him!" one angel shouted, his voice tinged with desperation.

"Take him down before he wipes us all out!" another yelled, the fear palpable in his tone.

"Come on, you useless shits, stop him now!" a third angel screamed, pushing others into action.

Desperation fueling their actions, a few angels quickly cast their own spells using raw arch energy crystals. They didn't have the refined absorption capabilities of Michael's armor, instead, they absorbed the energy directly through runes inscribed on their bodies, an inefficient and dangerous method, but they had no choice.

Blazing orbs of fire, spears of ice, and bolts of lightning shot through the air towards Michael. Each spell crackled with raw, unstable energy, the risk of misfire evident but overshadowed by the urgency of stopping the Dark Lord.

Michael snickered as his Responsive Shield activated, enveloping him in a translucent blue barrier. The incoming spells collided with the shield, their power absorbed and rendered useless. Fire fizzled out, ice melted, and lightning dissipated harmlessly against the barrier.

"Nice try," Michael said, his voice carrying a mocking edge as he prepared to unleash another wave of destruction on his foes

Suddenly, thunder began to rumble, and flashes of lightning streaked across the sky. The Skyhall angels, who had studied the Dark Lord extensively and his arsenal of spells, recognized the ominous signs. The storm clouds gathering in the darkened sky above could only mean one thing: Michael was about to cast his lightning spell.

"Shit, he's calling the storm!" one angel shouted, his voice trembling with fear.

"Get ready! He's about to rain hell on us!" another angel yelled, panic clear in his tone.

"We need to take him down now, or we're all fucked!" screamed another, spurring those around him into action.

The Skyhall angels who had narrowly escaped the meteors, along with the crew on the floating airships and the ships on the raging dark ocean, immediately moved to fire everything they had at Michael. Cannons roared to life, ballistas were cranked back, and giant arrows were notched and launched into the sky.

"Fire everything! Take that bastard down!" a ship captain bellowed, his voice barely audible over the chaos.

"Hit him with everything we've got! Don't hold back!" shouted another, the tension in his voice clear.

The air was filled with the deafening sound of cannon fire, the twang of ballistas, and the whoosh of giant arrows slicing through the air. But Michael, with his expert flying skills, evaded the barrage, weaving through the onslaught with precision and agility.

Then, the demons and angels alike looked up in horror as hundreds of dark lightning strikes rained down from the storm clouds. The bolts were relentless, striking with lethal precision.

The first bolts hit the angels attempting to escape in the sky, their bodies convulsing violently as the dark lightning coursed through them, tearing flesh and searing wings. Their screams of agony echoed as they plummeted from the sky, charred and lifeless.

"Holy fuck! We're getting fried out here!" one angel screamed, moments before a bolt hit him, reducing him to a smoldering heap.

The airships were next, massive bolts ripping through their hulls, igniting the stored munitions. Explosions erupted, sending debris and bodies flying in all directions. The sky was filled with the acrid smell of burning wood and the screams of those caught in the blasts.

"Brace for impact! We're hit!" shouted a crew member just before the ship disintegrated in a fiery explosion.

On the ocean below, the ships were no safer. The dark lightning struck the frigates and man-o-wars, splintering masts and setting the decks ablaze. Sailors were thrown overboard, their cries drowned out by the crackling of the lightning and the roar of the sea.

"We're doomed! Abandon ship!" a sailor yelled as the ship was struck by a lightning bolt, splitting it in half and sending it to the depths below.

The elf, witnessing the carnage below, knew this was turning into another massacre. The battlefield was littered with the charred remains of angels, demons, and ships alike. Desperation set in as he turned to Elder Tarsus, urgently pleading for retreat.

"Elder Tarsus, we need to retreat! This is turning into a fucking slaughter!" the elf urged, his voice quivering with fear.

Elder Tarsus, consumed by rage and stubborn pride, slapped the elf across the face. "Shut the fuck up, coward!" he snarled, his eyes blazing with fury. "You think we can just run away? We fight!"

Holding his stinging cheek, the elf could only watch in dismay as Tarsus's rage overtook reason.

"He wants to play hard, I'll fucking play hard," Tarsus muttered through gritted teeth. His eyes then gleamed with a dangerous resolve as he decided to use another powerful weapon, determined to turn the tide of this brutal battle.