Hitman with a Badass System



Meanwhile, Trista, the red-haired and alluring elder vampire, had arrived at the hidden island on the far side of the Ozer continent. As she approached, the mist-shrouded island emerged from the depths of the vast ocean, revealing its mysterious and enigmatic presence.

The island stood as a solitary fortress, its rugged cliffs jutting out defiantly against the crashing waves. Thick vegetation covered the land, intertwining with ancient ruins that spoke of a forgotten era. The air hung heavy with an otherworldly atmosphere, as if the island held secrets that yearned to be unraveled.

Above the island, a couple of airships floated and hovered, their sails adorned with the golden insignia of the Guardian Guild—a bold 'G' that symbolized protection and order. Trista's lips curled into a mocking smirk as she observed the oblivious guardians aboard the airships, unaware of the fate that had befallen their once revered guild.

"Little do they know," Trista snickered to herself, her voice filled with derision. "Their precious Guardian Guild is no more. Soon, they shall join their fallen comrades in the realm of the dead."

With a graceful motion, Trista took to the air, effortlessly soaring above the island without the need for wings. Her eyes scanned the landscape below, alert for any potential dangers that might lie in wait.

As she flew, Trista's keen senses detected a gathering of guardians near a group of miners. Intrigued, she descended closer, her crimson gaze fixated on the conversation unfolding among the guardians on the hovering ship.

"I can't wait to return home," said a tall, muscular guardian with a scruffy beard, his armor gleaming in the sunlight. "This waiting game is getting boring. We need some action."

A younger guardian, donning a sleek silver armor, nodded in agreement. "I heard rumors that the higher-ups are hiding something from us. And did you hear about the miner who killed himself? It's all because of this strange energy deposit they want us to unearth. It's driving people mad."

Trista listened intently, her interest piqued. The mention of a powerful energy deposit and its effect on the miners intrigued her. The guardians themselves were unaware of the true nature of the task they had been assigned.

With her crimson lips curling into a sly smile, Trista decided to delve deeper into this mystery. The unsuspecting guardians had unwittingly provided her with valuable information, and she intended to make the most of it.

Hovering on the outskirts of the island, hidden amidst the mist, Trista plotted her next move. She knew that the strongest guardian on the island was merely at the Soul Refining stage—a stage below her own cultivation level, the Fusion Stage. This knowledge only fueled her confidence, knowing that she held a significant advantage.

Trista's sudden landing on the deck sent shockwaves of panic and chaos through the unsuspecting guardians. Startled by her unexpected presence, they stumbled back, their eyes wide with disbelief and fear. The air crackled with tension as they beheld the seductive smile playing upon her lips, her eyes glistening with a cold, deadly intent.

"Hello, boys," Trista greeted them, her voice laced with a hint of amusement. As her lips curled back, revealing her fangs, a collective gasp escaped the guardians. "Vampire," they whispered, their voices filled with both dread and awe.

With a sly smile, Trista reassured them, her tone dripping with wicked charm. "Fear not, my dear guardians. I promise to make your deaths as painless as possible."

The guardians hesitated, caught between the realization of facing a formidable opponent and the reluctance to surrender without a fight. Before they could come to a decision, Trista sprang into action, her movements a blur of grace and lethal precision.

She descended upon them with a frenzy of unleashed power, tearing through their defenses like a predator unleashed upon its prey. Blood splattered across the deck as she rent apart their feeble resistance, each strike a symphony of destruction. Necks snapped with bone-chilling finality, their bodies crumpling lifelessly in her wake.

The deck became a macabre tableau of carnage, strewn with the broken forms of once-proud guardians. Trista stood amidst the wreckage, her red hair tumbling around her, drenched in the blood of her fallen foes. Her eyes gleamed with a mixture of triumph and hunger, her fangs stained crimson.

Silence descended upon the deck, punctuated only by the soft lapping of waves against the airship. The guardians, who had dared to challenge the darkness, now lay defeated, their hopes shattered and their lives extinguished.

As Trista reveled in her victory, her smile vanished abruptly when a slight pain seared through her shoulder. An arrow had found its mark, penetrating her flesh. The wound did not deter her, but it ignited a cold fury within her.

Slowly turning, Trista fixed her gaze upon the guardian who had managed to escape her initial onslaught. The sheer intensity of her killing intent radiated from her eyes, causing a wave of terror to wash over the guardian. His hands trembled as he notched another arrow, infused with golden arch energy.

Desperation fueled his actions as he unleashed the arrow, hoping to halt the relentless vampire. But Trista was far from an easy prey. With lightning-quick reflexes, she snatched the arrow out of the air, her grip tightening around the shaft until it splintered in her grasp.

A feral grin spread across Trista's face as she bared her fangs, a chilling display of her predatory nature. Without hesitation, she launched herself at the guardian with an unmatched speed, her movements blurred in a flurry of deadly grace.

Seizing him by the throat, Trista sank her fangs deep into the exposed flesh of the guardian's neck. A surge of energy coursed through her as she fed upon his life force. With each passing second, the guardian's youth seemed to drain away, his once-vibrant body withering into a desiccated husk.

In a matter of mere moments, the guardian's life force was extinguished, leaving nothing but a mummified corpse in Trista's grasp. She released her grip, letting the lifeless form crumple to the deck, its vitality sucked dry.

Trista wiped the remnants of blood from her lips, her eyes gleaming with a mix of satisfaction and hunger. The taste of the guardian's essence still lingered upon her tongue, fueling her power and lust for more.

The deck now bore witness to the aftermath of yet another merciless display of Trista's deadly prowess. The fallen guardians lay strewn about, their bodies discarded and lifeless. Trista stood amidst the carnage, a figure of chilling elegance and unfathomable darkness. She surveyed her surroundings, her red hair cascading around her like a curtain of blood, as the mist-swathed island whispered secrets yet to be uncovered.

Trista's wound on her shoulder mended itself with supernatural speed, a testament to her superior vampiric regeneration. As her body swiftly recovered, she ascended into the air, hovering above the hovering airship, her red hair billowing around her like flames in the wind. With a wave of her hand, she cast an ancient spell, its name lost to time, but its power unmistakable.

A crimson mist rose from the fallen guardians, their lifeblood summoned by Trista's dark sorcery. The blood floated through the air, swirling and dancing as if guided by an invisible hand. It wove intricate patterns, like an ethereal tapestry, and enveloped the giant warship below. The vessel became ensconced in a cloak of pulsating red, the blood wrapping around it like a macabre shroud.

Trista's gaze turned downwards, her eyes piercing through the mist to behold the guardians on the island below. Their expressions shifted from shock to pure terror as they witnessed the blood-covered ship and the enigmatic figure floating above. Their minds raced, trying to comprehend the supernatural spectacle before them, but their fear overwhelmed any rational thought.

With a mere flick of her wrist, Trista exercised her control over the blood that encased the ship. The crimson threads tightened their grip, constricting and twisting. The vessel, now transformed into a horrifying harbinger of doom, broke free from its moorings and hurtled through the air like a meteor descending from the heavens.

The sight was both mesmerizing and horrifying. The ship, streaked in vivid crimson, bore down upon the island, its trajectory unstoppable. Guardians scattered in panic, their futile attempts to flee crushed by the impending cataclysm. The earth shook beneath their feet as the vessel crashed into the island, a cataclysmic collision that rent the air with a thunderous roar.

The impact unleashed an inferno of destruction, splintering the once tranquil island into a landscape of chaos. Mountains crumbled, flames licked the sky, and the echoes of screams filled the air. The guardians, who had dared to defy the darkness, were now victims of their own hubris, their lives extinguished in a devastating display of otherworldly power.

Trista's lips curled into a sinister smile as she surveyed the aftermath of destruction. "The Dark Lord will be pleased," she murmured, her voice dripping with satisfaction, "to learn that these guardians have met their demise."

Descending from the sky, Trista set foot on the scorched earth of the island. The trees stood ablaze, their branches reaching out like fiery fingers. Splintered wood from the shattered airship lay strewn about, engulfed in flames that cast flickering shadows across the scene. The ground was littered with the fallen guardians, some lying lifeless while others writhed in agony, their groans of pain filling the air.

Ignoring the wounded guardians, Trista's gaze locked onto the mouth of a nearby cave. With a surge of unnatural speed, she dashed towards it, her form disappearing into the darkness. The cave exuded an eerie atmosphere, its depths shrouded in an impenetrable blackness. Mining equipment lay discarded along the path, a testament to the island's previous occupants.

As Trista ventured deeper into the cave, torchlight flickered in the distance, drawing the attention of some guardians who had taken shelter within its depths. They hurried towards her, their weapons at the ready, only to be met with a swift and merciless demise. Their necks snapped with bone-chilling finality, their bodies falling lifelessly to the ground.

Pressing onward, Trista continued her solitary journey through the labyrinthine cave. Finally, she reached a cavernous opening, where a small ray of sunlight pierced through the ceiling, illuminating the scene below. Water trickled around the edges, forming a delicate, meandering stream. In the center of the chamber, encased within a cage of peculiar metal, crackled a pulsating ball of black energy. Ancient skeletons, weathered and desolate, lay scattered around it like forgotten guardians of the past.

However, suddenly she heard a whisper, a whisper in the air. A chill ran down Trista's spine as the soft whisper drifted through the air. "Release me," it cooed, its words laced with promises of immense power. Her head throbbed, the weight of the offer pressing upon her mind. Yet, she fought against the allure, knowing the consequences of succumbing to such temptation.

With steely determination, Trista activated the earpiece nestled in her ear, connecting her with the Dark Lord. "I have found the energy deposit," she conveyed with urgency, her voice laced with a mix of excitement and caution. "But you must come quickly. There is something more... something dangerous."

Unbeknownst to the world, the clash between the Dark Lord and the ancient evil marked just the beginning of a cataclysmic battle. This energy deposit, a relic of unimaginable power, was but a precursor to the Dark Lord's rise to dominance. However, little did he know that this ancient evil, born from the depths of time, had slumbered long before even the gods and Omegas existed. As these dark forces collided, the world stood on the precipice of a new era, where the fate of all living beings would be shaped by the conflict between two unstoppable forces of darkness.