Hitman with a Badass System

Inside the elegant manor atop Mount Gallion, a group of five Immortals stood around a polished round table, deep in serious discussion. The meeting hall exuded an aura of wisdom and power, with ancient tapestries adorning the walls, depicting the history of the Immortals. The room was illuminated by mystical orbs of light, casting an ethereal glow over the place.

Little did the Immortals know that they were being closely observed by the Dark Lord's tiny Spyders, magical creatures created by Michael to gather information discreetly.

The first Immortal was an elderly man with a long white beard that reached his chest. He wore an intricately embroidered robe with silver patterns, and his eyes shimmered with ancient knowledge.

Next to him stood a stern-looking woman, her face etched with the wisdom of centuries. Her silver hair cascaded down her back, and she exuded an aura of power and authority.

The third Immortal was a man of regal bearing, adorned in royal purple robes with golden accents. His long gray hair was neatly tied back, and his sharp eyes were focused and calculating.

Opposite him was another woman, her face lined with age and experience. Her dark eyes were sharp and observant, and she wore simple yet elegant robes of deep green, signifying her deep connection to nature.

The fifth Immortal was a man of quiet intensity, his eyes deep and soulful. His ash-gray hair fell to his shoulders, and he wore robes of deep blue, representing his affinity with the heavens.

All five Immortals looked serious and engrossed in their discussion, unaware of the tiny Spyders discreetly observing their every move. Little did they know that the Dark Lord himself, disguised and undetectable, was about to make his move.

As the Immortals continued their discussion, their voices filled the meeting hall with a sense of urgency and concern. The first Immortal, named Elder Arion, spoke with a deep frown, "I have never seen such an anomaly before. These Immortals are unconscious, and their life forces are slowly withering away."

The stern-looking woman, High Priestess Era, nodded in agreement, "Indeed, the crystal seems to be corrupting their souls more than we initially calculated. We must act swiftly to save them."

The regal Immortal, Lord Roderick, chimed in, "Perhaps we should inform the Skyhall and seek help from our elders. This is beyond our expertise."

The female Immortal with a connection to nature, Lady Sylvana, added, "Yes, their condition is deteriorating rapidly, and our efforts to purify the crystal are not enough."

While the Immortals debated their next course of action, Michael watched the scene unfold in the mirror held in his hand, floating above the manor. He sighed, realizing that the Queen's crystal containing her piece of soul had indeed started to corrupt the Immortals. He knew they were clueless about the true nature of the crystal.

The tiny Spyders continued to record the conversation, allowing Michael to gather valuable information. He knew that he had to act carefully and secretly to retrieve the crystal without arousing suspicion.

As the Immortals continued their heated discussion, Lady Sylvana stood her ground, her emerald eyes filled with determination. "We cannot afford to keep the crystal any longer. Its corrupting influence will bring disaster upon us," she urged.

However, Lord Roderick, with a gleam of ambition in his eyes, countered, "You fail to see its potential! The crystal contains the power to elevate us all to the Half Celestial stage. With such power, we could reshape the world!"

High Priestess Era added, "We have spent centuries searching for a way to reach the Half Celestial stage, and now it lies before us. We cannot let this opportunity slip away."

Sylvana remained resolute, "There are other paths to the Half Celestial stage that do not involve such a tainted crystal. The Dark Lord himself managed to achieve that stage without the use of this corrupted artifact. If he could do it, so can we!"

Lord Roderick shook his head, "You forget, we are not the Dark Lord. He is the God of Darkness, and his powers are far beyond our comprehension."

Undeterred, Sylvana pressed on, "If we do not abandon the crystal, we will suffer the same fate as the Dark Lord in the end, regardless of whether we reach the Half Celestial stage or not. Its corrupting influence will consume us all."

The other Immortals fell silent, considering Sylvana's words. The weight of their decision hung heavily in the air as they pondered the consequences of their actions. The allure of immense power was tempting, but the risk of succumbing to darkness loomed ominously.

Unbeknownst to the Immortals, the Dark Lord, Michael, remained concealed and observed their every move. The Immortals discussed their plan to seek the Skyhall's help, unaware that Michael's tiny Spyders were capturing their conversation.

"I believe it's wise to inform the Skyhall and seek their counsel," suggested Lord Roderick. The other Immortals nodded in agreement, convinced that involving the elders of the Skyhall was the best course of action.

Yet, as they reached their decision, an unsettling shift filled the air. The light orbs in the hall flickered and sputtered, casting eerie shadows across the room. The Immortals exchanged puzzled glances, unsure of the cause of this strange phenomenon. A peculiar scent lingered in the air, making them uneasy.

Sensing something amiss, Immortal Sylvana reached out with her instincts and detected an unusual presence in their blood. A surge of fear washed over the Immortals as they realized that they had been tainted by an unknown substance.

Before they could react, the Fear Toxin that Michael had unleashed into the hall took hold of their bodies. Panic and dread surged through their veins, leaving them paralyzed with terror.

In the midst of the chaos, the lights in the hall suddenly extinguished, enveloping them in complete darkness. The Immortals' hearts pounded loudly in their chests as they struggled to see in the pitch-black surroundings.

In the shrouded darkness, the Immortals huddled together, their whispers filled with confusion and fear. One of them murmured, "This darkness... it's not ordinary. It feels malevolent."

Another Immortal, still trying to process the situation, hesitantly questioned, "Could this be the Dark Lord's doing?"

Dismissing the doubt, one of the more seasoned Immortals scoffed, "Nonsense! The Dark Lord met his end at the hands of Noah. This can't be him."

Their attempts to conjure light by casting spells proved futile, as an inexplicable gust of wind continuously extinguished their feeble flames.

Suddenly, a haunting rhyme echoed in the hall, the words sending a chill down their spines. "Diddle... Diddle... your lives... are so... little."

The Immortals exchanged alarmed glances, their hearts pounding with dread. They felt a sinister presence lurking in the darkness, taunting and toying with them. It was as though an invisible force was mocking their power and control.

Fear gripped their souls as they struggled to maintain their composure. Each of them tried to suppress their growing panic, but the relentless darkness and the haunting rhyme played tricks on their minds.

In their desperation, one of the Immortals attempted to summon divine light, but the darkness seemed to devour even the brightest illumination. The more they tried to dispel it, the thicker it seemed to grow, as if the very shadows had come alive and encircled them.

In the suffocating thickness of the darkness, the Immortals were blinded, unable to see anything around them. They shouted out into the void, their voices trembling with fear, demanding to know who was behind this sinister manifestation. To their horror, a menacing, devilish voice echoed back, chilling them to the bone. "You know the answer to your question," it hissed, sending shivers down their spines.

One of the Immortals, his voice quivering, mumbled, "Dark Lord."

As the fear toxin continued to grip their hearts, the Immortals became more and more petrified. The toxin amplified their fears, making the darkness even more terrifying, and the haunting voice that answered them felt like an embodiment of their deepest nightmares.

In the midst of their terror, the Dark Lord's voice returned, cutting through the blackness with an eerie calmness. "Tell me," he demanded, "Where did you put the crystal?"

Their minds reeling, the Immortals felt shocked beyond belief. They had witnessed the Dark Lord's supposed death at the hands of Noah, and now he stood before them, alive and with them, in the very hall where they had convened to discuss their concerns. The immensity of the revelation was too much for them to comprehend.

Their immortal composure shattered, and they were reduced to mere mortals, shaken to their cores by the return of the Dark Lord. They could hardly believe their eyes and ears, and the fear toxin made them question the very fabric of reality. Was this an illusion, or had the Dark Lord truly come back from the dead?

In the pitch-black darkness, the Immortals stood paralyzed, not knowing how to respond to the unexpected and chilling presence of the Dark Lord.

As Michael interrogated the immortals, a powerful aura suddenly appeared on his Environmental scanning. Reacting swiftly to the change in the situation, Michael tapped into his innate power, connecting with the darkness within each immortal. In response, the immortals felt an intense pain in their chests, coughing and collapsing to the ground.

With his dark swords unsheathed, Michael sprang into action, moving with deadly precision. In the pitch-black darkness of the hall, the only sounds that echoed were the chilling growls of the immortals. Michael swiftly ended their lives, cleaving their heads in a few blinks of an eye. Originally, he had planned to extract information about the crystal before eliminating them, but the unexpected appearance of another powerful being left him with no choice but to swiftly kill the immortals. Leaving no witnesses who had realized the Dark Lord was still alive became an imperative for Michael, even at the cost of ending their lives without mercy.

After swiftly dispatching the immortals, Michael dispelled the darkness in the hall and moved to a corner where shadows lingered. Embracing his role as the God of Darkness, he melded with the darkness, becoming one with it. With perfect harmony, he blended into the shadows, waiting for the powerful being detected in his environmental scanning to reveal itself before him.