Hitman with a Badass System



As the dragon and Michael ascended higher into the sky, the world below appeared minuscule, mere dots in the vast expanse. Michael's mind raced, contemplating his options for combating the formidable skeletal beast. He realized that his dark swords would be insufficient against such a massive opponent, as the dragon's skeletal frame seemed impervious to their piercing strikes.

In a moment of clarity, Michael's hand instinctively reached for his ultimate weapon, the Doomsbringer. With a fierce determination, he summoned the ancient black warhammer, engraved with intricate runes that glowed with a sinister aura. Its formidable head, infused with an ancient ice core, promised the power to summon intense frost and unleash the wrath of doom upon his enemies.

The Doomsbringer materialized in Michael's grip, its weight reassuring and commanding respect. He tightened his grasp around the handle, feeling the surge of power resonating within him. The runes on the warhammer pulsed with an icy blue light, responding to Michael's unwavering resolve.

With the Doomsbringer in hand, Michael's gaze locked onto the skeletal dragon, now struggling to maintain its altitude amidst the thinning air. He knew that this was the moment to unleash the full might of the warhammer and bring forth its icy wrath against the formidable foe.

Resolve burning in his eyes, Michael made a daring move, closing his wings mid-air and allowing gravity to take hold. He began descending rapidly, utilizing the force of his fall to gather momentum and unleash an even more devastating attack.

As Michael plummeted towards the skeletal dragon, the monstrosity sensed his descent and eagerly opened its jaw wider, preparing to devour him whole. But Michael was not so easily consumed by the beast's insatiable hunger.

With a mighty swing of the Doomsbringer, Michael unleashed a cataclysmic blow upon the dragon's gaping maw. The clash between the warhammer and the skeletal jaws reverberated through the air, a thunderous sound that echoed across the expanse of the sky.

The impact was tremendous. Bones shattered and splintered under the force of Michael's attack, the dragon recoiling from the sheer power of the blow. The skeletal beast was pushed back, its immense form staggered by the sheer might of the Doomsbringer.

The resounding collision sent shockwaves rippling through the air, accompanied by an otherworldly howl that pierced the sky. Fragments of shattered bone were scattered like fallen stars, creating a macabre spectacle against the backdrop of the darkened heavens.

Michael, his grip unwavering on the Doomsbringer, stood defiant amidst the chaos. The warhammer's icy aura intensified, surrounding him in an ethereal mist, as if the very essence of frost was drawn to his presence. He surveyed the aftermath of his powerful strike, a glimmer of satisfaction dancing in his eyes.

But the battle was far from over. The skeletal dragon, though wounded, still possessed an unyielding determination. Its hollow sockets glowed with an ominous light, and its fragmented form began to slowly reassemble, drawing upon the dark energies that sustained its existence.

Summoning the frigid powers imbued within the Doomsbringer, Michael focused his energy and channeled it into a concentrated blast of icy frost. From the warhammer's enchanted head, a torrent of intense cold erupted, streaking towards the skeletal dragon with blinding speed.

The freezing blast engulfed the dragon, coating its bones in a layer of frost that crackled with an ethereal glow. The dragon's movements became sluggish as the biting cold sapped its vitality, hindering its ability to retaliate effectively.

With lightning-fast agility, Michael maneuvered around the aerial battlefield, his movements a blur as he swung the Doomsbringer with calculated precision. Each strike connected with bone-shattering force, causing the dragon's skeletal structure to splinter and crumble under the onslaught.

Fragmented bones scattered through the air like a ghastly rain, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. The skeletal dragon, once an imposing behemoth, now trembled under the relentless assault, its form gradually disintegrating.

In a display of unwavering control, Michael gracefully leaped atop the dragon's crumbling skull, a calm and determined expression etched upon his face. His eyes met the fading glimmer within the dragon's hollow sockets, and with a composed voice, he uttered, "Let's finish this."

The battle seemed to hang in suspended animation for a moment as Michael's words resounded through the air. The skeletal dragon, its essence fading, responded with a feeble attempt at defiance, its shattered jaw twitching in a futile snarl.

Knowing that victory was within reach, Michael raised the Doomsbringer high above his head, channeling the last reserves of his power into a final devastating strike. The warhammer crackled with unleashed energy, resonating with Michael's unwavering determination.

With a resounding impact, the Doomsbringer struck the dragon's fractured skull, causing the remaining bones to crack and shatter. As the skeletal structure splintered under the force of the blow, Michael swiftly followed up with another strike, this time driving the pointed head of the warhammer deep into the dragon's skull.

The Doomsbringer's sharp tip hooked into the fractured bone, securing Michael's grip and ensuring that he remained firmly attached to the dragon's fading form. Sensing the dragon's imminent demise, Michael summoned forth the power of the dark flames.

Black flames danced and flickered around his clenched fist as he pressed the infernal fire against the skeletal dragon's head. The dark flames eagerly consumed the skeletal remains, their scorching heat intensifying with each passing moment.

The dragon, now engulfed in the swirling vortex of black flames, began its descent through the air. It resembled a burning meteor hurtling toward the ground, leaving behind a trail of smoke and ash in its wake.

The once-mighty skeletal dragon, now reduced to a charred husk, continued its descent, propelled by the relentless force of gravity. The black flames danced and twisted around its skeletal frame, devouring every trace of its existence with an insatiable hunger.

As the dragon descended, the air crackled with the sound of its fiery demise. The dark flames, fueled by the dragon's bones, illuminated the surrounding sky with an eerie crimson glow, casting an otherworldly ambiance upon the scene.

The burning dragon left a trail of destruction in its wake, scorching the air and leaving a smoldering path across the horizon. It was a sight both awe-inspiring and terrifying—a testament to the power wielded by Michael and the cataclysmic force of the Doomsbringer.

As the dragon's descent reached its climax, its form disintegrated into embers and ashes, dissipating into the winds. The once-formidable skeletal beast had been reduced to nothing but fading echoes of its former glory.

As the remnants of the skeletal dragon descended, smoldering and reduced to ashes, they made contact with the ground with a resounding thud. The impact sent tremors rippling through the earth, a testament to the immense power that had been unleashed upon the once-mighty beast.

Seizing the moment, Michael wasted no time in venting his fury upon the dragon's shattered head. With a series of thunderous stomps, he brought his boot crashing down upon the charred remains, obliterating any trace of the skeletal creature that had dared to challenge him.

Each stomp reverberated through the air, a declaration of his dominance and a symbol of his triumph. The remnants of bone crunched and crumbled beneath his relentless assault, further reducing the dragon's remains to mere dust and fragments.

As the echoes of his final stomp faded into the distance, Michael stood amidst the aftermath of his victory, his chest heaving with exertion and his eyes ablaze with an unyielding resolve. It was then that he called out to the heavens, his voice carrying the weight of his defiance.

"Fourcrux!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the void. "I told you to stay away from my way!"

His words hung in the air, a challenge issued to the deity who had sought to interfere with his ambitions. The wind carried his voice across the desolate landscape, a proclamation that reverberated with unyielding determination.

Michael's gaze swept across the battleground, his eyes locking onto the scattered remains of the dragon. With a mixture of satisfaction and warning, he muttered under his breath, "Consider this a warning,"

As the dust settled and the echoes of the battle faded, an unsettling stillness engulfed the pocket dimension. The remnants of the skeletal dragon had vanished, leaving no trace behind, as if it had never existed. The air itself seemed to hold its breath, suspended in an eerie silence that sent shivers down Michael's spine.

In the midst of this surreal calm, a sudden manifestation shattered the tranquility. An ethereal black crow materialized in the air before Michael, its presence ominous and foreboding. Its feathers glistened with an otherworldly darkness, and its eyes gleamed with an intelligence beyond that of a mere bird.

With a gruff, devilish voice that seemed to carry echoes from the deepest recesses of the underworld, the crow spoke, its words cutting through the silence like a sharp blade. "You haven't disappointed me, God of Darkness."

With a calm demeanor, Michael gazed at the crow before him, addressing it by name. "Fourcrux, I presume," he stated, his voice steady as he awaited the crow's response. Amusement danced in the crow's eyes, a glimmer of intrigue at witnessing the God of Darkness in action. It reminisced about its previous discussion with Andohr, the God of Time and Space, when Andohr sought Fourcrux's assistance in reanimating the corpse of Vedora, the three-headed hydra and former companion of the previous Dark Lord.

The ethereal crow, embodying the essence of Fourcrux, acknowledged Michael's actions. "You have slain two of my creations today," it uttered, its words carrying a sense of authority and understanding. Fourcrux, as the creator of this pocket dimension, possessed the ability to manifest within it, drawing upon the concentrated death energy that permeated the realm. Despite the barrier imposed by the previous Dark Lord, Fourcrux could manifest itself in its crow form within places where the threads of death were tightly woven.

Michael maintained his composure, unyielding in the face of the god before him. He met Fourcrux's gaze with unwavering resolve, unburdened by fear, for if Fourcrux had intended harm, it could have enacted it already. The absence of such aggression suggested that either Fourcrux lacked the means to harm him or harbored ulterior motives.

The God of Darkness spoke, his voice measured and calm. "That orc tried to steal something that belonged to me," he explained, his eyes momentarily glancing at the minuscule remnants of bone dust scattered on the ground. He returned his focus to the crow, unmoved by the god's presence.

"And as for this dragon, it was merely an obstacle in my path," Michael continued, his tone unwavering. Despite standing before a god, he remained resolute. The Dark Lord's confidence stemmed from the knowledge that if Fourcrux truly desired his downfall, it would have already transpired. Thus, the god's motives remained cloaked in uncertainty.

However, Fourcrux's next words hinted at a greater threat, one that surpassed the demon corpses sealed within the coveted coffins. Michael's curiosity was piqued as he sought to unravel the enigma before him. "And what, pray tell, might that be?" he inquired, his voice betraying a glimmer of intrigue.

Fourcrux posed a thought-provoking question to Michael, his voice laced with a touch of intrigue. "Have you ever pondered the fate of your companion, Vedora, in your previous timeline?" The God of Darkness furrowed his brow, taken aback by the sudden revelation that Fourcrux delivered so calmly.

Michael's silence betrayed his lack of awareness, prompting Fourcrux to enlighten him further. "It seems you are in the dark, and rightly so. Allow me to expand your understanding, God of Darkness. In this present timeline, your former pet hydra, has been unearthed by Andohr. The God of Time and Space intends to resurrect the creature, harnessing its power to wage war against you."

The weight of Fourcrux's words settled upon Michael, his mind racing to grasp the implications of such a revelation. Tension filled the air as Michael contemplated the magnitude of this newfound threat. 

Unbeknownst to Michael, Fourcrux, the god of necromancy, had been covertly aiding in the resurrection of Vedora's corpse. However, Fourcrux harbored no allegiance toward Andohr or the God of Darkness. As a deity who had been shunned by the pantheon and the majority of gods in the realm, Fourcrux's loyalty rested solely with himself. In the impending conflict between the God of Time and Space and the God of Darkness, Fourcrux saw an opportunity to align himself with both sides, utilizing their bitter rivalry to further his own agenda.