Hitman with a Badass System
chapter-1310

As they were strategizing, a golden-haired elven young woman with emerald eyes sparkling, came sprinting toward them. Clutching a stack of papers in her delicate hand, she adjusted her spectacles before delivering her urgent message.

"Your Highness, we have received reports from the Akilan realm that the Skyhall has dispatched its army and Half Celestial stage ancestors to safeguard the portal," the elven young woman reported. Despite the gravity of her words, her attention was drawn to the Dark Lord. The elves in the room, who had only glimpsed him on a few occasions, were captivated by his new, more rugged and imposing appearance in his dark armor.

Many couldn't believe the Dark Lord was so young and that they were in the presence of two gods. But they also noticed the way the Dark Lord's subordinates looked at him; there was no fear in their eyes, just pure loyalty.

"So the game begins," Nithroel chuckled, her voice cutting through the palpable tension in the room.

"Alright, Ghost…change of plans," Nithroel said, turning to Michael. "You spearhead the distraction attack and keep the Skyhall army from reaching the second squad led by Elidyr."

Michael knew this was a good plan and agreed with a nod. Despite all his training, he was very angry at the place that had ruined his life and affected him from the moment he was born. Thus, he knew the best option was to let Nithroel lead since she was not emotionally invested in this as much as he was.

"Prepare the portal to the Akilan realm…" Nithroel ordered, signaling the start of their war against the Skyhall.

The elves, hearing her order, didn't hesitate. They began to disperse like bees, and soon a tremor could be felt beneath their feet. Michael could feel the ship moving. From the outside, the massive warship they were in slowly began to ascend. After a few minutes, the ship's front cannon, which didn't look like a typical iron cannon but was built with silver metal and adorned with various glowing crimson red runes, came into view.

The cannon glowed before firing a beam of energy into the air before them. If Noah hadn't died, the beam would have been bright enough to flash across the sky. But now, it was only a dull energy beam. Yet, when the beam hit the air, it quickly tore through, opening a portal. This was a testament to the power of Nithroel, the Empress of Awor, and the resources she commanded.

The portal slowly grew wider and bigger, large enough for their ship to fly through. On the other side, the small team of Trista, Azazel, and Elidyr prepared to sneak out of the ship once the distraction began and take over the portal to Skyhall within Mazeroth Academy.

As the warship approached the portal's exit, Mazeroth Academy came into view. The academy, a grand structure with towering spires and vast courtyards, was surrounded by a shimmering shield. The shield pulsed with energy, a testament to the powerful spells protecting the academy. Hundreds of angels clad in silver armor with their metallic wings hovered around the academy, patrolling the dark sky.

On the ground, the forces of Skyhall were organized into various battalions. Archers stood ready with their bows drawn, mages with staffs and wands chanted incantations, and warriors in gleaming armor wielded swords and shields. The sight of the academy and its powerful defenses brought a flood of memories to Michael. He remembered the lecture halls, the dueling grounds, and the library where he spent countless hours. Now, this place was a battlefield.

As the warship drew closer, Nithroel turned to Michael. "This is it. Get ready," said Nithroel.

Inside the Alchemy classroom, the atmosphere was tense and filled with the scent of various potions bubbling away in cauldrons. Shelves lined the walls, filled with jars of strange ingredients, their contents floating in murky liquids. Wooden desks were arranged in neat rows, each with a cauldron and a set of alchemical tools.

Professor Lane stood at the window, his black robes billowing slightly as he observed the scene outside. His greasy black hair framed a perpetually severe face with piercing eyes that missed nothing.

Through the window, he saw the warship of Nithroel slowly entering through the portal, its massive form cutting through the darkened sky. The once bright sky was now a dull grey, a testament to Noah's death and the darkness that had engulfed the realm.

"He finally came," Professor Lane muttered to himself, his voice low and filled with a mixture of anticipation and resignation. He knew the Dark Lord was coming for Skyhall.

Looking at the warship, Professor Lane remembered how the Dark Lord had once been a student at Mazeroth Academy. He could recall vividly the young man sitting at one of the very tables in this classroom. Despite Lane's general disdain for most students, Ghost, as he was known back then, had been different. He was one of the best students Lane had ever taught, showing a natural talent for alchemy that was rare even among the most gifted.

Ghost had already possessed remarkable talents for alchemy, boasting knowledge equivalent to a five-star alchemist. Yet, under Lane's tutelage, those abilities had been amplified, refined to near perfection. Lane sighed deeply, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He knew that soon, the world was about to change in a way that none of them could fully comprehend, and he couldn't help but feel that he had played a small part in the events leading to this moment.

As he continued to watch the warship approach, a sense of foreboding filled him. The academy, once a place of learning and growth, was now a battleground. The Dark Lord, once his student, was now a formidable force coming to challenge the very institution that had helped shape him.

"He was destined for greatness," Lane muttered softly to himself.

"but not like this."

In another corner of the Mazeroth Academy, inside the Warrior House common room, students clad in black and red robes were gathered, their faces pressed against the windows as they watched the sky. Among them was Harry, a young boy with ruffled black hair, blue eyes, and a kind face. Despite being born only three years ago, Harry, a Soul Born who had been given a physical body with the help of his mother, Lailah, had grown rapidly and now looked like a fourteen-year-old.

As he looked at the sky, Harry felt a surge of mixed emotions, shock, anger, excitement, anticipation, and protectiveness. His father, the Dark Lord, was coming for the Skyhall. The Mazeroth Academy, a place he had come to call home, was a branch of the Skyhall. On one hand, he wanted to see his father for the first time in person, but on the other hand, he knew his father's arrival meant the destruction of the Skyhall, which might irreversibly affect the academy.

His heart raced as he thought about the impending battle. He had heard stories about his father's power, the darkness that followed him, and the countless battles he had fought. But this was different. This was personal. Harry had always wondered about his father, the mysterious figure who had played such a pivotal role in his life yet remained distant and unknown.

"What's going to happen?" one of the students beside him muttered, her eyes wide with fear.

"Is it true? Is the Dark Lord really coming here?" another student whispered, his voice trembling.

Harry clenched his fists, trying to steady his breathing. "Yes," he said quietly, more to himself than to anyone else. "He's coming."

The students around him fell silent, their eyes fixed on the warship approaching through the portal. For Harry, it was a moment of inner conflict. He wanted to protect the place he had grown to love, but he also wanted to understand and perhaps even connect with his father.

As he continued to watch, Harry resolved to face whatever came next with courage and determination. He would protect his friends and home, but he also needed answers. He needed to know who his father really was and what drove him to such extremes.

Finally, Harry turned away from the windows, his blue eyes glistening with resolve. As he stepped away from the crowd, his three friends joined him. There was a young dwarf named Thrain, short but now looking as tall as Harry since Harry hadn't developed his full height yet. Thrain had a stocky build, with a bushy beard and a determined expression on his face.

Beside Thrain was an elven boy named Aric, with golden hair and a handsome face, a sword dangling on his back. His posture was graceful, and his sharp eyes held a mixture of concern and readiness.

Next to Aric was his sister, Lyria, an elven young girl who resembled her brother except for her slightly developed chest and more feminine body. She had a bow slung over her shoulder and an aura of calm confidence.

Lastly, there was a young human girl named Clara, wearing glasses that framed her intelligent eyes. She had a bookish appearance but carried herself with quiet strength, always ready to support her friends.

"Harry, what's happening?" Thrain asked, his voice gruff but filled with worry.

"It's about your father, isn't it?" Aric looked at Harry, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "

"Yes. We need to be ready for anything." Harry nodded as Lyria placed a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "We're with you, Harry. Whatever happens, we'll face it together."

"We need a plan. We can't just sit here and wait." Clara said, adjusting her glasses.

Hearing his friends' words and feeling their supportive presence gave Harry the courage he needed. He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders.

"We'll protect our friends and the academy. But I also need to find out the truth about my father. Why he's doing all this."

When they finally reached the courtyard, they saw the first spell being tossed at the warship. A powerful flame dragon roared in the sky, almost as big as the warship itself, and lunged towards it. For a moment, they halted their steps and looked on in awe. Clara, ever the bookworm, could tell that a spell of this caliber must have been cast by an immortal or even higher stage cultivator, possibly a half celestial.

"That spell... it's incredible," Clara muttered, her eyes wide with amazement.

"Whoever cast that must be one powerful son of a bitch," Thrain whistled.

As the dragon rushed forward, several black lightning bolts, visible even in the dark sky, shot out from the ship and struck the dragon. The group gasped, their awe turning to shock.

"Did you see that?!" Aric shouted, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his sword.

The flame dragon, as though it were a living being, roared in defiance before shattering into countless specks of light and dissipating into the night sky. They stood there, stunned, unable to fully comprehend what had just happened. The sheer power of the flame dragon had been expected to cause massive damage, but it was obliterated by the dark lightning bolts.

"What in the god's name was that?" Lyria muttered, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Clara could only imagine the immense power behind those lightning bolts. "Whoever cast those bolts must be extraordinarily powerful," she said with awe.

Meanwhile, Harry, still reeling from the spectacle, looked in the direction the lightning bolts had come from. There, he saw a figure draped in dark armor, a cape billowing behind him as he hovered in the sky. The figure exuded an aura of undeniable power and darkness.

"Father..." Harry whispered, a mixture of emotions swirling within him as he recognized the Dark Lord.