Hitman With A Badass System

Chapter 1361 Meeting Lailah Alden After So Long

1361  Meeting Lailah Alden After So Long

Michael closed the ancient tome, a predatory gleam in his eyes. This library, this entire pocket dimension… it was a treasure trove of knowledge, of power waiting to be unlocked. And he was just getting started.

"Lenora," he said, turning to his trusted lieutenant, "change of plans. We're not taking this stuff back to the Dark Castle. It's too much, and it'll take forever to move it all." He gestured towards the library, the piles of loot, the sprawling palace itself. "We're taking over this whole damn dimension."

Lenora raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Take it over, boss? What do you mean?"

"I mean… it's ours now. This whole place. The palaces, the libraries, the whole shebang. We'll set up outposts, secure the perimeter, make it an extension of the Dark Castle."

He knew it wouldn't be easy. There were bound to be hidden traps, magical defenses, maybe even a few pissed-off ghosts lurking in the shadows. But he wasn't worried. He had an army, a growing stockpile of magical weapons, and a newfound understanding of necromancy.

And a whole lot of badass points burning a hole in his metaphorical pocket.

"Time to turn this place into a fortress," he muttered, a predatory grin spreading across his face. "A fortress for the God of Darkness."

As Michael started to walk away, his mind already buzzing with plans for his new Skyhall annex, Elidyr's voice stopped him.

"My Lord," he asked, his brow furrowed, "what about Mazeroth? The students? And… Harry? Lailah?"

Michael paused, his hand hovering over an ancient scroll that looked particularly… explodey. He took a deep breath, a shadow of uncertainty crossing his face.

Damn. He'd almost forgotten about them.

Lailah and Harry… they were safe now, at least from Skyhall. And technically… they could come live in the Dark Castle. Harry could could be his son.

The thought sent a strange mix of warmth and apprehension through him.

He could already picture Gaya's reaction. And it wasn't pretty. She wasn't some docile, subservient harem member, waiting patiently for her turn in his bed. She was the goddamn Dark Queen. Powerful, possessive, and fiercely loyal… to him, and him alone.

The thought of a harem, of multiple women vying for his attention, made Michael shudder. It wasn't his style. He wasn't built for that kind of drama.

But Harry… Harry was innocent. He'd done nothing wrong. And Michael, despite his own complicated feelings about family, couldn't bring himself to punish the boy for the sins of his father.

"They're safe at Mazeroth," Michael said finally, turning back to Elidyr, his voice firm. "For now. We'll… figure things out. Once Harry's finished his education. It's not the right time… for this conversation."

There were too many variables, too many unknowns. The prophecy, the Omegas, Andohr… and Gaya.

He needed time. Time to think, to plan, to… prepare for the shitstorm that was about to hit.

Watching the exchange between Michael and Elidyr, Lenora couldn't help but let out a low chuckle.

"Wife troubles, boss?" she teased, a sly grin spreading across her lips.

Even the mighty God of Darkness, it seemed, wasn't immune to a little… domestic drama. And honestly, she didn't blame him. Gaya was a force of nature. A whirlwind of chaos and destruction wrapped up in a package of dark silk and leather.

The thought of Gaya and Lailah trying to coexist under the same roof… Lenora shuddered. It would be a disaster of epic proportions. Like mixing oil and water, or fire and gasoline.

Lailah was… serene. Graceful. A quiet melody in a world of discord.

Gaya was a symphony of destruction. A cacophony of curses, laughter, and blood. She could charm you one minute and gut you the next, and she'd probably laugh while doing it.

Yeah, Lenora understood Michael's decision to postpone that particular conversation. Some problems were better left… unaddressed. At least for now.

"Come on, boys," she said, clapping her hands together. "Let's go check out those books. I'm feeling… educational."

Eventually, after hours of sorting, cataloging, and arguing over who got to keep the jeweled skull goblet which Lenora won, the Azure Citadel was secure. Lenora, ever the efficient lieutenant, summoned the rest of Michael's subordinates, dispatching them to the various floating palaces with a list of priorities and a clear set of instructions.

"Loot everything. Secure the perimeter. And for God's sake, don't break anything… too valuable."

Michael, leaving Lenora to oversee the operation, decided it was time for a change of scenery. He had unfinished business to attend to, conversations to be had, and a certain young… son, he needed to check on.

He stepped back into the portal, the swirling colors and energies washing over him, carrying him back to the familiar world of Mazeroth.

He reappeared above the academy, hovering in the air like a dark avenging angel.

The academy, bathed in the soft glow of the starry sky, looked… peaceful. Magical. It was a sprawling complex of towers and turrets, its walls crafted from ancient stone, its windows glowing with a warm, inviting light. Gargoyles, frozen in grotesque poses, perched on the rooftops, their shadows stretching across the manicured lawns. A gentle breeze rustled through the leaves of the surrounding forest, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and magic.

22:01

The academy, bathed in the soft glow of the starry sky, looked… peaceful. Magical. It was a sprawling complex of towers and turrets, its walls crafted from ancient stone, its windows glowing with a warm, inviting light. Gargoyles, frozen in grotesque poses, perched on the rooftops, their shadows stretching across the manicured lawns. A gentle breeze rustled through the leaves of the surrounding forest, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and magic.

It was a stark contrast to the chaotic battlefield he'd just left behind.

As he watched, four figures approached him, soaring through the air with a grace that spoke of years of training and mastery over their powers. Wulfric, his silver hair gleaming in the moonlight, led the way, his expression a mixture of concern and relief. Beside him, Kayla, her emerald eyes glowing with a warmth that belied her usual stoic demeanor, kept a watchful eye on Michael.

And behind them… Harry and his friends.

Taking a deep breath, Michael allowed himself to descend, landing softly on the front lawn of the academy.

The moment Michael's boots touched the ground, Wulfric felt a shift in the air, a subtle easing of the tension that had gripped the mortal realm for centuries. It was over. Skyhall, that bastion of arrogance and hypocrisy, was finally gone.

But a part of him, a part that had witnessed the rise and fall of empires, the endless cycle of chaos and order, knew that this victory was only a temporary respite. The void left behind by Skyhall wouldn't remain empty for long. New powers would rise, new threats would emerge, and the mortal realm, already plunged into darkness, would face even greater challenges.

He had faith in Michael, in the young God of Darkness who'd defied destiny and carved his own path. But even faith couldn't completely erase the worry that gnawed at the edges of his mind.

After all, every sunrise is followed by a sunset. And every darkness, no matter how deep, eventually gives way to light.

But before Wulfric could voice his concerns, a smaller figure stepped forward. Harry, his eyes wide with a mixture of hope and trepidation, looked up at Michael.

"Is it… is it over, Dad?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Michael nodded, a gentle smile softening his features.

"It's over, Harry."

A silence fell over the group, the weight of those words hanging heavy in the air. Even though harry and his friends knew it was over, they still needed a moment to process the magnitude of what they'd heard.

The era of Skyhall was gone.

And the reign of the God of Darkness… had just begun.

Finally, It was Thrian, Harry's dwarven friend, who broke the silence.

"So… what happens now?" he asked, his gaze shifting between Michael and the towering facade of the academy behind him. "What about… all of this? Mazeroth? All the… stuff Skyhall used to control?"

Thrian like others had assumed the Dark Lord would dismantle Mazeroth. It made sense, from a strategic standpoint. The academy, with its ties to Skyhall, its lingering loyalties, its potential to breed future rebels… it was a threat. A loose end.

But Michael surprised them all.

"Mazeroth," he said, his voice calm, even, "will continue to operate as it always has. I have no intention of… meddling in its affairs."

He met their gazes, one by one, his expression unreadable.

"It's… your academy now. Run it as you see fit."

The simplicity of his answer, its unexpected generosity, left them speechless.

Michael knew that trying to control Mazeroth, to impose his will on the academy, would be a mistake. It would only fuel the resentment, the anger, the sense of loss that many of the students, especially those still loyal to Skyhall, were feeling. It would turn them into rebels, into thorns in his side, before he'd even had a chance to consolidate his power.

No, it was better to let them have their autonomy. To give them the illusion of freedom. It would buy him time, allow him to focus on more pressing matters. And besides, he could always… keep an eye on things. Make sure they didn't get… out of hand. Of course, that was something they didn't need to know.

But as Michael finished speaking, a new figure emerged from the shadowy doorway of the academy.

"Ghost"

The voice, soft yet clear, a melody in the stillness of the night, cut through the air, stopping Michael mid-sentence. He froze, his body stiffening since he knew that voice.

Slowly, his heart pounding in his chest, he turned to face Lailah Alden, the Wielder of Angel Veena.

The inevitable conversation… the one he'd been dreading… had arrived. And it seemed fate, or perhaps just really shitty timing, had decided to fast-forward the whole damn thing.