Hitman with a Badass System
chapter-983

(Calm before the storm chapter)

"Shall we face you one by one, my lord or-" Spider inquired, her voice filled with anticipation. But before she could finish her sentence, Michael interjected with a playful chuckle.

"That would be boring, and the fight would be over in a mere moment," he remarked, knowing that individually, none of them stood a chance against him. Spider's eyes gleamed with a deadly mix of excitement and venomous intent. Unlike Saber and the elder vampires, who pledged their loyalty to the Dark Lord out of reverence, the vampire death squad had joined his ranks for monetary reasons. Michael saw this as an opportunity to earn their unwavering loyalty through a display of his formidable strength.

"Bring forth your best skills," Michael goaded the death squad members, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

With that, the battle between the Dark Lord and the death squad members commenced. The vampires swiftly closed in, surrounding Michael, their gazes focused and their bodies tense with anticipation. Each member carefully positioned themselves, strategizing their approach.

The battle between the Dark Lord and the death squad members erupted into a flurry of movement and clashes. The vampires, driven by a mix of determination and desperation, attacked with their chosen weapons, each showcasing their unique skills.

White Wolf, a skilled archer with deadly accuracy, notched an arrow and let it fly with lightning speed. The arrow whistled through the air, aimed straight at Michael's heart. But with a mere flicker of movement, he gracefully sidestepped, allowing the arrow to harmlessly pass by. His evasion was seamless, as if he possessed an innate sense of the arrow's trajectory.

Grey Wolf, the agile dwarf with impressive close combat prowess, lunged forward with his daggers. His movements were swift and relentless, his small frame darting in and out as he attempted to breach Michael's defenses. But the Dark Lord was a master of anticipation. With incredible reflexes, he effortlessly evaded Grey Wolf's attacks, his body swaying and twisting with an uncanny grace. His bare hands became an extension of his being, deflecting strikes and countering with precision.

Spider, the seductive beauty with lethal swordsmanship, danced forward with deadly elegance. Her sword gleamed in the dim light, and her eyes burned with a thirst for victory. With a series of lightning-fast strikes, she aimed to overwhelm Michael with her quick and precise movements. Yet, the Dark Lord's calm demeanor never wavered. He fluidly dodged Spider's slashes and parried her blows with the fluidity of water, evading her attacks with an almost supernatural grace.

Bear, the hulking powerhouse wielding a long, heavy battle axe, charged forward with a roar, his muscles bulging with raw strength. Each swing of his weapon was accompanied by a thunderous force that threatened to shatter anything it touched. But Michael's movements were deceivingly swift and nimble. With an almost ethereal agility, he evaded Bear's powerful strikes, slipping past the swinging axe with hairbreadth precision.

The hall resounded with the clash of weapons, the echoes of grunts and shouts reverberating throughout the space. Each death squad member attacked with unyielding determination, pushing themselves to their limits. Yet, Michael's evasive maneuvers remained unfaltering, his actions a symphony of fluid motion.

His body flowed seamlessly, evading attacks with a blend of subtle shifts, twists, and graceful steps. He relied on instinct and unparalleled perception, anticipating the death squad's moves before they even materialized. His movements seemed almost effortless, as if he was one with the air itself.

Amidst the chaos, the death squad members found themselves increasingly frustrated. Their strikes grew more desperate, their attacks lacking the precision and finesse they had initially possessed. Despite their relentless onslaught, Michael appeared to be untouched, his calm facade unbroken.

In this dance of combat, the Dark Lord demonstrated not only his physical prowess but also his strategic brilliance. He exploited the weaknesses in their movements, slipping through the gaps in their defenses with astonishing precision. With each evasive maneuver, he seemed to defy the laws of nature, his every motion calculated and deliberate.

As the fight raged on, the death squad members exchanged glances, a mixture of awe and frustration in their eyes. They could hardly believe what they were witnessing—the unmatched skill and grace of the Dark Lord, who defied their every attack with nothing but his bare hands.

Bear's battle axe whistled through the air, propelled by sheer force, aimed directly at Michael. But in a display of uncanny agility, the Dark Lord effortlessly sidestepped the swinging arc of the massive weapon. Bear's mighty swing missed its mark, and the axe crashed into the ground with a thunderous impact, causing the earth to crack and tremble beneath their feet.

A smirk tugged at the corners of Michael's lips as he evaded Spider's furious sword strikes. With a swift and fluid motion, he maneuvered behind her, his movements like shadows in the night. In a surprising twist, he deftly seized two of Spider's arms, restraining her momentarily. His voice, barely above a whisper, reached her ears, "Too slow."

The momentary distraction allowed the Dark Lord to capitalize on his advantage. With a quick and forceful push, he propelled Spider forward, directing her path toward the towering figure of Bear. Spider stumbled, unable to regain her balance, and crashed into Bear with a resounding thud. The impact sent both of them sprawling to the ground, temporarily incapacitating them.

Meanwhile, White Wolf, the skilled archer, took aim with his bow and let loose a flurry of arrows. The projectiles flew through the air with deadly precision, aiming to find their mark in the Dark Lord's heart. But Michael's reflexes were honed to an otherworldly level. With astonishing speed, he snatched the arrows from the air, catching them effortlessly between his fingertips.

A smile played upon Michael's face as he twirled the arrows in his hand. In a feat that defied human limits, he swiftly turned the arrows around, positioning them as makeshift melee weapons. With a fluid motion, he wielded them like short sticks, a flickering blur of motion. In an instant, he closed the distance between himself and Grey Wolf, the agile dwarf who fought with relentless determination.

With inhuman speed, the Dark Lord swung the arrow-sticks in a devastating arc, connecting with precise accuracy. The makeshift weapons collided with Grey Wolf's head, knocking him off balance and sending him stumbling backward, dazed and disoriented. The impact was akin to a giant felling a sapling, the force of the blow reverberating through the hall.

The dwarves, gathered in a tight-knit group, observed the breathtaking battle with wide eyes and hushed whispers. Their comments, filled with astonishment and a touch of dark humor, focused on the appearances of those involved.

"By the fiery forge! That one with the arrows, he's like a skilled marksman! Can't believe the Dark Lord caught 'em so effortlessly," exclaimed the dwarf with a bushy red beard, pointing at the archer in awe.

"Aye, and look at the Dark Lord there, swift as a mountain cat! Dodging Spider's strikes with ease," remarked the stout dwarf with a braided beard, his eyes sparkling with amazement.

"Ha! Did you see that? The Dark Lord grabbed hold of Spider's arms like she was naught but a fly in his web. Too slow, indeed!" chuckled the dwarf with a wild mop of hair, shaking his head in disbelief.

The sound of hearty laughter echoed from the dwarves as they watched the Dark Lord wield the arrow like a makeshift weapon, landing a solid blow on the head of the dwarf warrior. It was a mix of astonishment and amusement, their voices carrying a sense of camaraderie in witnessing such unexpected antics.

"Look at that! The Dark Lord just knocked that Grey Wolf down like a pup with a toy! Never thought I'd see such a sight," chuckled the dwarf with a massive beard, his laughter rumbling like distant thunder.

"Heh, look at that! The Dark Lord's given Grey Wolf a proper knock on the noggin with that arrow. I never thought I'd see the day," chuckled another dwarf.

"I reckon even the vampires must be wonderin' what sort of opponent they've gotten themselves mixed up with. The Dark Lord's got 'em runnin' in circles," added a gray beareded dwarf, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Who'd have thought the Dark Lord had such moves? He's like a dancer, swaying and spinning through the fight," murmured the dwarf with a braided beard, a mix of awe and amusement in his voice.

The dwarves continued to watch, their eyes glued to the mesmerizing spectacle unfolding before them. Their comments, mingled with the sounds of battle, reflected their astonishment and admiration for the Dark Lord's prowess and the relentless assault of the vampire death squad.

"He's like a whirlwind, that Dark Lord! The vampires can't keep up!"

"Did you see how he cunningly pushed Spider into Bear's path? A true master of strategy!"

"Ha! I never thought I'd say this, but I'm actually rootin' for the Dark Lord. Who would've guessed?"

Their voices rose and fell in a symphony of astonishment and camaraderie, their commentary a testament to the mesmerizing spectacle that unfolded before their eyes. The battle between the forces of darkness enraptured them, forging an unexpected bond among the dwarves as they marveled at the incredible display of skill and daring.

The onlookers could hardly comprehend the spectacle unfolding before their eyes. The Dark Lord's agility, precision, and supernatural speed left them awestruck. The fight continued, a mesmerizing display of skill and power as Michael evaded, countered, and controlled the battlefield.

The vampire death squad, momentarily catching their breath, formed a huddle, their faces etched with determination. The battle had reached a critical juncture, and they needed to reassess their strategy to gain an edge against the formidable Dark Lord. Sensing the pause, Michael's eyes gleamed with a mix of confidence and cunning.

"Listen closely," he spoke with an air of authority, pointing at each member of the death squad. "Spider, your swordplay is commendable, but your strikes are predictable. Vary your angles, and don't underestimate the element of surprise."

Turning his gaze to Bear, Michael continued, "Your strength is unparalleled, Bear, but it can be a double-edged sword. Use your weight and momentum to your advantage, but be mindful of exposing yourself to counterattacks."

"Grey Wolf, your close combat skills are solid, but you telegraph your moves. Maintain your agility and surprise your opponent."

Lastly, Michael locked eyes with White Wolf, his voice steady and composed. "White Wolf, your archery skills are unmatched, but your focus wavers in close quarters. Trust in your instincts, and remember that precision can triumph over speed."

The vampires listened intently, their eyes fixed on the Dark Lord as he imparted his wisdom. The brief respite allowed them to absorb his guidance and incorporate it into their newfound strategy.

With the Dark Lord's pointers imparted, the vampire death squad dispersed, renewed and invigorated by his guidance. Like a well-coordinated symphony, they lunged forward once more, their renewed vigor palpable in the air. The clash resumed, but this time, Michael did not rely solely on evasion. He unleashed a torrent of devastating strikes, his movements fluid and swift, fueled by his newfound offensive momentum.

Michael's movements were a blur of calculated strikes and lightning-fast counterattacks. He punched and kicked with precision, each blow delivered with enough force to make the vampires cough up blood. His fists and feet became a whirlwind of punishing strikes, finding the vulnerabilities in their defenses.

Spider, fueled by the Dark Lord's advice, unleashed a flurry of sword strikes, aiming to exploit her opponent's weaknesses. But Michael deftly parried her attacks, his movements fluid and effortless. With a swift maneuver, he grabbed her wrist and twisted her arm, causing Spider to wince in pain.

Bear, determined to prove his worth, swung his heavy battle axe with all his might. But the Dark Lord sidestepped the attack and delivered a powerful spin hook kick, his leg cutting through the air like a lethal weapon. Bear, caught off guard, was sent sprawling backward, the impact reverberating through his body. It was a display of the Dark Lord's precision and strength, his attack executed with masterful skill.

Meanwhile, White Wolf nocked an arrow, drawing his bowstring with renewed confidence. He aimed carefully, seeking to find a weakness in his opponent's defenses. Yet, before he could release the arrow, the Dark Lord closed the distance in a blink of an eye, knocking White Wolf's bow aside and delivering a powerful strike that sent him crashing to the ground.

Grey Wolf, agile and determined, tried to outmaneuver the Dark Lord. But Michael anticipated his every move, countering his strikes with lightning reflexes. With a swift combination of punches and kicks, the Dark Lord delivered blows that reverberated through Grey Wolf's body, leaving him staggering and breathless.

The battle raged on, the clash of strength and skill echoing through the air. The vampires, fueled by a mix of desperation and newfound determination, fought with every ounce of their being. And the Dark Lord, driven by his own thirst for power and dominance, responded with a relentless onslaught, leaving the death squad members battered and bloodied in his wake.

The battle within the hall reached its climax as Michael, fueled by a combination of skill, speed, and the hunger for victory, unleashed a series of deadly attacks. His movements were a blur of calculated strikes, each blow delivered with precision and bone-crushing force.

Spider, despite her vampiric agility, was unable to evade the Dark Lord's relentless assault. With a swift, spinning kick, Michael struck her temple, causing her to stagger backward. As she struggled to regain her balance, he swiftly closed in, his fist connecting with her jaw in a devastating uppercut. The sickening sound of bones cracking echoed through the hall as Spider's body flew backward, crashing into a nearby pillar. Blood trickled from her mouth as her eyes rolled back, and she succumbed to unconsciousness.

Bear, known for his formidable strength, swung his heavy battle axe with all his might, aiming for Michael's midsection. But the Dark Lord's reflexes were unmatched. With inhuman speed, he sidestepped the attack, swiftly ducking under Bear's guard. In a lightning-fast motion, Michael's fist collided with Bear's sternum, the impact resonating throughout the hall. Bear let out a guttural cough, blood spraying from his lips, before crumpling to the ground, unconscious and defeated.

White Wolf, his quiver empty and his bow discarded, attempted a desperate strike, his clawed fingers aimed at the Dark Lord's throat. But Michael was quicker. He swiftly sidestepped the attack, seizing White Wolf's arm in a vice-like grip. With a vicious twist, the sound of snapping bones filled the air. White Wolf's howl of agony was cut short as he collapsed to the ground, his body wracked with pain and unconsciousness enveloping him.

Grey Wolf, the nimble dwarf known for his agility, tried to outmaneuver the Dark Lord's attacks. But Michael's movements were too swift, too precise. In a whirlwind of strikes, he relentlessly assaulted Grey Wolf, delivering powerful blows that left him reeling. The sound of impact reverberated through the hall as Michael's fists collided with Grey Wolf's body, each blow accompanied by a sickening crunch. Blood sprayed from Grey Wolf's mouth, and his legs buckled beneath him as he crumpled to the ground, defeated and unconscious.

Despite the vampires' innate ability to heal, the force behind Michael's attacks had overcome even their supernatural resilience. The combination of his speed, skill, and sheer power had rendered them incapable of rising to their feet. The hall fell silent, save for the heavy panting of the defeated vampires and the echoes of bones cracking. Victory belonged to the Dark Lord, as he stood amidst the fallen, the embodiment of dominance and relentless power.