Hitman With A Badass System

Chapter 982 Vampire Death Squad Vs Michael I

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While Aria and Azazel were on their mission, Ricky ventured through the empty hall, he noticed dwarves diligently working on the ceiling. Parchments and cloth covered various areas of the hall, indicating ongoing renovations. Unexpectedly, in the center of the hall, he came across the members of the vampire death squad, taking a break and engaged in a lively conversation.

Ricky couldn't help but feel surprised to see all the elite killers gathered in one place. Normally, they trained individually in different locations on the floating mountain. However, fate had brought them together in this moment.

"Look who's here," chuckled Gray Wolf, the dwarf, teasing Ricky playfully. Ricky waved his hand in acknowledgment, a smile on his face.

"When are you going to convince the Dark Lord to build us a tavern, Ricky?" growled Bear, his deep voice resonating through the hall. Ricky contemplated for a moment, considering the suggestion.

"A tavern, huh? It may not be at the top of my priority list, but perhaps I can find a way to squeeze it in," Ricky replied with a hint of amusement. Just a couple of years ago, if he had encountered these formidable assassins, he would have been trembling with fear. But after serving the Dark Lord for nearly three years, Ricky had grown accustomed to facing formidable beings. After all, the Dark Queen would give him a stern reprimand if she ever found out he was scared of someone.

Suddenly, Spider called out to Ricky, interrupting his thoughts. He turned his attention towards the alluring blonde vampire.

"Hey Ricky," she beckoned, her voice carrying a mixture of intrigue and curiosity.

"We're having a friendly bet. Care to join in?" Spider asked, her voice filled with mischief and intrigue. Ricky, intrigued by the proposition, walked towards Spider and the rest of the vampire death squad. The members of the squad couldn't help but grin at Spider's invitation. Meanwhile, the dwarves working on the construction project seemed terrified, fully aware of what the bet entailed.

Curiosity piqued, Ricky asked, "What's the bet about?" He couldn't help but notice the seductive smile on Spider's face, and he knew from experience that trouble often followed when an alluring beauty like her was involved. After his recent breakup with Olivia, Ricky had decided to steer clear of such entanglements.

"We're betting on who among us would have a better chance of defeating the Dark Lord if he had no cultivation power," Spider revealed, her words hanging in the air. Ricky's eyes widened in shock at the audacity of the wager. However, he quickly frowned, considering the nature of the bet. In the Dark Army, conversations like these were commonplace. Even the weakest soldier in the dark army harbored the imagination of challenging the higher-ranking members. They were well aware that they would be swiftly defeated if they dared to try, but it didn't stop them from indulging in such fantasies.

It was only natural for these elite killers to ponder what would happen if they were to face the Dark Lord on equal terms. Ricky understood that, despite the inherent dangers, such discussions were part of the norm in the Dark Army.

"Everyone knows it'd be me," Bear growled in his rough voice, his hand instinctively gripping his trusty axe. His confidence was evident, as he believed he possessed the strength to overcome the Dark Lord.

Snake, the expert in poisoning techniques, shook his head and remained aloof from the conversation. He knew his skills lay in stealth and cunning rather than direct confrontation. Besides, being a fox, he was well aware of the vast power gap that separated him from the Dark Lord.

Ricky, eager to avoid the discussion altogether, attempted to walk away. However, Spider grabbed hold of his sleeve, preventing his escape. With a seductive tone, she implored him, "Come on, Ricky. Don't be a coward. You can share your thoughts with us. I promise, I won't bite."

Ricky glanced at the expectant faces of the death squad members, realizing they wouldn't let him off the hook so easily. Reluctantly, he replied, "Well, my answer might not be what you want to hear."

Curiosity piqued, White Wolf, an elf, pressed, "What is it, Ricky?"

Ricky took a deep breath before responding, "The Dark Lord, obviously. He can overpower any one of you, with or without his cultivation power." The truth hung in the air, a sobering reminder of the Dark Lord's unrivaled might.

The death squad members exchanged skeptical glances, clearly unconvinced by Ricky's statement. Bear scoffed and retorted, "You underestimate us, Ricky. Without his fancy magic, we have a real shot at taking down the Dark Lord in a head-on fight."

White Wolf, the elf, nodded in agreement. "Indeed, Ricky. We've honed our skills and trained relentlessly. We're not to be taken lightly. Even the Dark Lord has his vulnerabilities."

Spider, the alluring beauty with seductive charm, couldn't resist joining the conversation. She stepped forward, a confident smirk gracing her lips. "I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss us, Ricky. My swordsmanship might even rival the Dark Lord's own. I've devoted years perfecting my technique, and I have the speed and agility to match his every move."

The other members of the death squad nodded, their confidence mounting. Each had their own reasons to believe they could best the Dark Lord. Gray Wolf, the dwarf, chimed in, "Don't forget my mastery of close combat. I've taken on opponents twice my size and come out victorious. The Dark Lord won't intimidate me."

Bear flexed his bulging muscles and grinned. "And I'll bring the full force of my strength. With one swing of my axe, even the Dark Lord will feel its impact."

Ricky raised an eyebrow, still skeptical but intrigued by their unwavering confidence. He realized that they truly believed in their abilities. Despite his doubts, Ricky respected their determination and ambition.

"Well," Ricky replied, his tone laced with caution, "I suppose it's good to have such confidence. Just remember, the Dark Lord is not to be underestimated. His experience, skills, and sheer power make him a formidable opponent. But if you're willing to put it to the test, who am I to stand in your way?"

The death squad members shared triumphant smiles, eagerly anticipating the prospect of proving themselves against the Dark Lord. Their conversation took an exciting turn as they began discussing strategies, training regimens, and hypothetical scenarios where they could face the Dark Lord head-on.

Meanwhile, Ricky couldn't help but wonder if their boldness was fueled by genuine belief or perhaps a touch of overconfidence. Only time would tell if their aspirations would lead to triumph or humbling defeat.

"Why don't we have a friendly duel then?" a calm voice echoed through the hall, catching the attention of the death squad members. They turned their gazes towards the door, their eyes widening in surprise as they saw the Dark Lord himself entering with an amused smile playing on his lips.

Contrary to Ricky's expectations, the death squad members appeared pumped and excited instead of being consumed by fear. Their lack of trepidation, even in the presence of the Dark Lord, surprised Ricky. He understood that these individuals were the most skilled and experienced killers, unfazed by mere intimidation. It took more than that to rattle their composed demeanor.

Ricky swiftly bowed as the Dark Lord approached, patting him on the back in a reassuring manner. Michael's gaze shifted towards the death squad members, his expression a mix of amusement and curiosity.

"I must say, I admire your confidence," the Dark Lord spoke, his voice resonating with power. "And I am obliged to satisfy your thirst for curiosity, am I not?"

The death squad members exchanged glances, their excitement palpable. It was a rare opportunity to showcase their skills before the very being they had sworn loyalty to. Spider stepped forward, a glint of determination in her eyes.

"We would be honored, my Lord," she replied, her voice steady and resolute. "To have a chance to test our mettle against you would be the greatest challenge we could ask for."

The Dark Lord's smile widened, his gaze shifting from one member to another. He seemed genuinely intrigued by their proposition. This unexpected turn of events had brought an air of exhilaration to the hall, as the prospect of witnessing the clash between the Dark Lord and his elite killers loomed before them.

Ricky watched in awe as the stage was set for an extraordinary confrontation. He couldn't help but wonder how this encounter would unfold and what it would reveal about the true extent of the death squad's capabilities. Little did he know that this friendly duel would not only test their skills but also deepen their bond with their enigmatic leader, the Dark Lord himself.

"Go bring Elidyr to me, Ricky," commanded Michael, his voice carrying a sense of authority. Ricky nodded in response and quickly made his way to find Elidyr, one of the Dark Lord's trusted advisors. He located Elidyr in his study, engrossed in ancient texts, and relayed the Dark Lord's request.

Elidyr followed Ricky back to the hall, curiosity etched on his face. As they entered, he scanned the scene, taking in the animated conversations and the palpable energy that filled the air. Elidyr approached Michael, his brows furrowed in puzzlement.

"What is going on here, my lord?" Elidyr inquired, his voice laced with intrigue.

Michael's eyes sparkled with amusement as he explained, "The death squad members had an interesting proposition. They wanted to have a friendly duel among themselves, betting on who has the chance to defeat me."

Elidyr's eyes widened in surprise, his gaze shifting towards the death squad members who were now preparing themselves for the impending challenge. It was not every day that the Dark Lord entertained such requests, but he understood the importance of fostering camaraderie and testing their mettle.

"I see," Elidyr nodded, his interest piqued. "And how do you plan to proceed, my Lord?"

A mischievous smile danced on Michael's lips as he revealed his plan. "I want you to create an array around the hall, one that will prevent spellcasting. This way, they can engage me on fair grounds without relying on magical abilities."

Elidyr nodded in understanding, acknowledging the fairness of the arrangement. It was crucial for the death squad members to have a genuine opportunity to demonstrate their martial prowess without the interference of external forces.

"And what about your cultivation, my Lord?" Elidyr asked, his gaze searching Michael's eyes.

Michael's expression turned serious as he replied, "I will suppress my cultivation to the Soul Refining stage, one stage below their current level, the Fusion Stage. This will provide them a fair chance to gauge their abilities against mine truly."

Elidyr nodded in approval, recognizing the significance of Michael's decision. It showcased not only his respect for the death squad members but also his desire to push them to their limits, fostering growth and instilling confidence.

As the preparations continued and the array took shape, the hall buzzed with anticipation. The death squad members, now aware of the magnitude of this opportunity, stood tall, their expressions filled with determination. They were about to engage in a battle that would test their skills, bond them further as a team, and provide them invaluable insights into their own capabilities.

As word spread throughout the floating mountain, the sound of hammers and chisels gradually faded away. The dwarves, who had been tirelessly working on the construction, set their tools aside and gathered around the hall. Excitement and curiosity glimmered in their eyes as they joined the growing crowd, eager to witness the impending duel between the death squad members and their formidable Dark Lord.

Within the hall, Michael stood at the center, a commanding presence that radiated power and confidence. The death squad members had taken their respective positions, their eyes fixed on their enigmatic leader. Michael's gaze swept over the assembled crowd, his piercing black eyes resting on each individual momentarily before he removed his sword sheathes.

The sound of the sheathes hitting the ground echoed in the silent hall, drawing the attention of everyone present. Michael's dark swords, symbols of his authority and strength, lay discarded on the floor. A murmur of surprise and awe rippled through the onlookers, recognizing the significance of his action.

"I will fight without my swords," Michael declared, his voice resonating with a blend of determination and caution. "I don't want to kill you guys accidentally,"

With deliberate grace, Michael slid off his long, black coat, revealing the toned muscles that lay beneath. He then rolled up the sleeves of his black turtleneck, baring his forearms to the eager eyes of the death squad members. The faint sound of his knuckles cracking filled the air as he flexed his fingers, preparing himself for the impending clash. Deep down, Michael understood the significance of this moment. It was not just about asserting his power but also about earning the respect and loyalty of these skilled assassins. He knew that only by surpassing their expectations and demonstrating his unrivaled strength could he establish himself as their rightful leader. Thus, he resolved to push himself to the limits, willing to unleash a force that would leave the death squad members in awe, solidifying his reputation as the Dark Lord.