Hitman With A Badass System

Chapter 1365 Gearing upto take out Rin

Chapter 1365  Gearing upto take out Rin

The moment Rin's soul fragment was devoured, the crimson glow faded from Tiberius's eyes. His body, ravaged by the self-inflicted wounds, slumped in Michael's arms, lifeless. There was no time for healing potions, no chance for a last-minute miracle.

Michael sighed, a heavy, weary sound, and gently lowered Tiberius's body to the ground before Lailah.

"Goodbye, my friend," Michael whispered, his voice barely audible. "Be at peace."

He crossed Tiberius's arms across his chest, a gesture of respect, a final farewell in accordance with the customs of the Southern Continent, where Tiberius had been born.

Then, Michael straightened up, his gaze hardening as he turned towards Lailah.

"Now do you care about Rin?" he asked, his voice a low growl. "That… is what the Princess of Murder is capable of. She's not some… circus clown, spouting empty threats. She's the real deal, Lailah. A real piece of work."

Lailah stared at Tiberius's lifeless form, a cold dread creeping up her spine. She'd encountered her fair share of cruel and violent individuals over the years. She'd seen firsthand the darkness that lurked in the hearts of men and women, the depths of depravity they were capable of.

But there was something about Rin… something that chilled her to her very core.

It wasn't just the casual brutality, the gleeful sadism, the sheer joy she seemed to take in inflicting pain. It was the… the deception.

Lailah remembered, with a clarity that made her stomach churn, her first encounter with Rin. It had been about a month ago, just before Michael had launched his attack on Skyhall.

A kind, elderly woman, her face wrinkled with age, her eyes filled with a gentle wisdom, had approached her. She'd called herself Bai Ming, and she'd seemed… concerned. She'd asked about Harry, about Lailah's struggles, about her fears. She'd offered comfort, advice, and… a gift.

The grace of Ava.

Lailah, desperate to protect her son, blinded by her own fear and desperation, had accepted. She hadn't questioned the woman's motives, hadn't suspected… anything.

Now, looking back, she realized how foolish she'd been.

Even Michael, a year ago, had fallen prey to her deception. He'd encountered Rin in Eden's Garden, disguised as a young elven woman, a seemingly harmless salesgirl. Their conversation had been brief, inconsequential. This was Rin's MO as she was a chameleon who could blend into any crowd, adopt any persona, to achieve her twisted goals. She'd approach her targets, her victims, with kindness, with concern, with a carefully crafted façade of empathy to gain their trust, lower their defenses, and strike when they least expect it. And for Lailah, blinded by her love for Harry, desperate to protect him from the encroaching darkness…,she'd been the perfect target. Easy prey.

For Rin, manipulating Lailah, convincing her to absorb a volatile, potentially deadly grace, had been child's play. A game. A way to amuse herself, to exact a little revenge on Michael for stealing the Grimoire from under her nose.

Finally, Michael turned his gaze back to Lailah, his anger fading, replaced by a cold, calculating concern. He could see it now, the energy fluctuations around her, the way her aura flickered and pulsed, like a candle flame in a hurricane. That grace… it was tearing her apart from the inside out.

"Damn it, Lailah," he muttered, shaking his head. "You really screwed this time,"

He accessed the System, his mind focusing on the swirling interface, the endless possibilities it offered.

"System," he thought, "can you… stabilize that grace? The one she absorbed?"

[The system can do it. However, Stabilizing the Grace of Ava will require 150 million Badass Points.]

[Does the host wish to stabilize the grace now?]

"One hundred and fifty million?" Michael winced. That was a big chunk of his current reserves. He'd amassed over two billion badass points over the last few months, thanks to his victories over Skyhall and his army's… enthusiastic approach to looting. But even for him, that was a significant expenditure.

He wasn't usually one to waste points on other people, especially not someone who'd just chewed him out and questioned his parenting skills. But this… this was different.

If Lailah exploded, if that unstable grace went critical…she might take half of the Akilan Realm with her. And that included Harry.

"Fine," he thought, gritting his teeth. "Do it."

Once Michael agreed and the system took its points, Lailah felt a strange sensation wash over her. A coolness, a soothing wave of energy that spread through her body, calming the chaotic storm that had been brewing within her. It was sudden, unexpected, and… pleasant. The flickering, unstable aura that had surrounded her moments before settled, the power within her now humming with a steady, controlled energy.

"What… what did you do?" she asked, her voice a mixture of confusion and suspicion.

Like everyone else, she had no idea about the System. Its existence was Michael's most closely guarded secret.

Michael, still fuming over her reckless decision to absorb the grace, glared at her, his eyes narrowed.

"Let's just say… I fixed your little fuck-up," he growled. "Consider it a… favor. But let this be a lesson, Lailah. There are no shortcuts to power. You tried to cheat the system with the First Energy, and you nearly got us both killed. Now this… "

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.

"Just… don't fuck up again, okay?"

Although Michael used 150 million points, he was glad that she wouldn't explode because he lost enough people as it is. He'd lost Eve. He'd lost Tiberius. He wasn't about to lose anyone else, especially not someone Harry cared about.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Just… keep Harry safe, okay? Until he graduates. Then we'll… figure things out. We can all be a… family. In the Dark Castle. It's… safe there."

He hesitated, then added, "I have some things to take care of in the realm of the Gods. And trust me, Lailah… it's a shitshow up there. The Gods… they're worse than any evil cultivator you've ever met. They're power-hungry, manipulative, and they don't give a damn about mortals. They see you all as… ants. Insects to be crushed under their heels."

He paused, his gaze hardening.

"Sounds cliché, I know. But it's true. I'm the only one standing between them and the mortal realm. And if they ever break through that barrier… well, they'll turn this world into their own personal playground. Force you all to worship them, to feed their power. They're addicted to worship energy, Lailah. It's like… crack cocaine for gods. And they'll do anything to get their fix."

For a few moments, Lailah stood there, silent, her gaze fixed on Michael's face. The anger, the resentment that had fueled her outburst, seemed to have… dissipated, replaced by a weariness that mirrored the darkness in the sky above them.

"What?" Michael asked, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice. "No lecture? No rant about my… destructive tendencies?" He grinned, a flash of white teeth against the backdrop of his dark armor. "Well, at least Rin did some good. Stopped you from being a… well, never mind."

Lailah's lips twitched, a ghost of a smile breaking through the shadows that had clouded her face. It was a rare sight, her smile, a glimpse of the warmth and kindness that Michael had once found so captivating. And seeing it now, he couldn't help but smile back.

"Take care of Harry," he said, his voice softening. "And… keep an eye on things at Mazeroth. Make sure those kids don't… go off the rails. No more Skyhall worshipping rebels, okay?"

He waved his hand, and Tiberius's body, now cleansed of Rin's taint, vanished in a ripple of shadow energy, transported back to the Dark Castle for a proper burial.

Then, with a surge of power, he began to ascend, rising from the ground like a dark phoenix taking flight.

He paused, hovering in the air above them, and looked back at Lailah, his gaze intense.

"I'm… trying to be better, Lailah," he said, his voice low, sincere. "But I'm still the God of Darkness. And I have… limits to my patience. So if Mazeroth starts churning out brainwashed Skyhall loyalists…They'll all regret it. Make sure they understand that."

And with that, he shot up into the sky, leaving Lailah and the academy behind. But Michael didn't return to the Dark Castle. He had other… priorities. He reappeared in the Azure Citadel, his expression grim, his thoughts a whirlwind of anger and regret. The dark army soldiers were still busy sorting through the loot, their movements efficient, their expressions a mixture of awe and greed.

"My lord," Trista greeted, bowing her head respectfully. "Welcome back. Lenora is overseeing the looting operation at the Emerald Palace. Shall I summon her?"

Michael shook his head. He didn't want to see Lenora right now. He didn't want to see anyone. He just wanted… to be alone. To process what had happened. To plan his next move.

"No need," he said, his voice a low growl. "Just… show me to the meditation hall. There has to be one, right? Those Skyhall bastards loved their seclusion,"

"Of course, my lord," Trista said, leading him deeper into the palace. They passed through grand halls filled with priceless artifacts, their surfaces now covered in a thin layer of dust, evidence of Skyhall's hasty retreat.

"Fucking idiots," Trista muttered, shaking her head as they walked past a wall adorned with a massive, gold-framed painting of some pompous-looking Skyhall ancestor. "Spending all that money on… paintings. Useless crap."

She stopped before a set of double doors, crafted from polished gold and inlaid with intricate carvings.

"This is it, my lord. The… Sanctum of Serenity, they called it. Where they'd go to… seclude themselves,"

Michael pushed the doors open, revealing a spacious, circular chamber. The walls were lined with cushions covered in soft silks, the floor covered in a plush carpet that muffled their footsteps. A single shaft of light, filtered through a circular skylight high above, illuminated the center of the room, where a raised platform, covered in a thick white fur, beckoned invitingly.

It was quiet. Peaceful. A stark contrast to the chaos and carnage that raged outside.

Michael walked towards the center of the room, his boots sinking into the plush carpet, and sat down on the platform, his back straight, his eyes closed.

"Trista," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "Bring me… all the gold."

Trista blinked, momentarily confused. "All the… gold, my lord? From this palace?"

"All of it," Michael repeated, his eyes still closed.

Trista, despite her confusion, didn't question his orders. She bowed her head respectfully and hurried off to gather the loot. Soon, a steady stream of dark army soldiers, their arms laden with heavy chests overflowing with gold coins, filed into the chamber. They deposited their burdens at Michael's feet, the clinking of metal against metal a strangely soothing sound in the otherwise silent room.

"That's… that's all of it, my lord," Trista said, gesturing towards the mountain of gold that now surrounded Michael.

"Good," Michael said, his eyes still closed. "You can all leave now. And… no one disturbs me. Understood?"

The soldiers, their gazes lingering on the gold for a moment, nodded quickly and filed out of the room, closing the doors behind them.

Michael opened his eyes, staring at the mountain of gold before him.

He had 1.85 billion badass points, to be exact. But he wanted more. He needed more.

He was going after Rin. And he was going to need every advantage he could get.

He activated the System's Banker function, his mind focusing on the conversion process. Gold coins, symbols of wealth and power in the mortal realm, were about to become something far more valuable, far more potent.

"I'm coming for you, bitch," he muttered, a predatory grin spreading across his face. "And you better be ready."