Hitman with a Badass System

(A few hours before Duke Avon's death)

Before going to the outside world, Avon wanted to relax a bit. He made his way to the empty rooms in the corridor. When he twisted the golden knob, he was welcomed by a cozy yet empty room. Except for the antique brown sofa set and the fireplace, the room had nothing. He entered the door, closing the door behind him.. Above the fireplace, there was a lamp. He pulled the lamp as the scenery transformed. In a blink of an eye, the cozy room changed into a cozy tavern.

As he appeared in the tavern through teleportation, capping hands and amazing but unknown scents welcomed him. It was near impossible to see what was outside the tavern through the large, stained glass windows. One thing was sure, suppose anyone stood outside, they would hear a lot of beer glasses clinking. The bartender, who was a man with a handlebar mustache and thick sideburns, was a little preoccupied behind the bar but still managed to welcome Duke Avon with a wink.

Duke Avon looked around the tavern in awe. Marble pillars supported the upper floor and the lights attached to them. The walls were loaded with hundreds of memorabilia, all signed and most likely donated by customers. These memorabilia mostly included skulls, heads of various animals, and pelts. For an exclusive vampire tavern, it was completely packed. Several long tables were occupied by happy, excited groups of vampires, some were dancing on the table, while others cheered them on by clapping and yelling. The other, smaller tables were also occupied by vampires who were probably starting to reach the point of having drunk too much, though nobody seemed to mind. Even most of the stools at the bar were occupied.

Avon heard about the tavern from Trista. Supposedly, this was where the vampires get together to blow off steam and do some interesting stuff, these were her words. To be honest, the tavern looked no different than any tavern in Flamefair. Though something about this palace made Avon feel at home, feel comfortable. Perhaps he was with his fellow vampires or just the sweet scent of fresh blood brewed by the bartender. On the outside, the vampires looked no different than mortals. However, some of the vampires automatically drew Avon's attention. One of them was a big burly man with a long beard and mane-like brown hair. He stood at least seven feet, the tallest one in the tavern. He had a gigantic ax on his back and he was practicing his aim by throwing little axes onto a wall.

"Hrgh," The man acknowledged Avon with a single nod and what sounded like a beastly growl. In stark contrast to the big burly man, a thin short figure with a receded forehead sat in the corner alone. He was feasting on a bloody steak that somehow didn't look like normal meat of any kind. Instead of forks and knives, he was eating them with his hands. Blood and sauces spurted out. Unlike the big burly man, he didn't do anything when he saw Avon. That was for the best, Avon thought, and moved on. Next, he saw a sturdy muscular man sharpening his red dagger. He wore a loose shirt that revealed his hairy yet chiseled chest. His eyes were calm but there was something predatory about his eyes. With just a thick mustache, he looked extremely domineering.

The final figure who caught Avon's eyes was an alluring blonde young woman. She was perfect to the point Avon couldn't remember meeting someone as beautiful as this woman. Her hourglass figure coupled with the dark thick lipstick would make anyone's heart skip a beat. Such a marvelous beauty. When she saw Avon staring at her without blinking an eye, she let out a seductive smile.

Eventually after so much gawking, Avon made his way to the bar counter.

"Duke Avon, I presume," the bartender said in a thick intimidating voice.

"In the flesh," Avon took off the dark hood covering his face because he saw no need to hide his face among them.

"If I may, don't go with the hard liquor just yet," The bartender pointed at the bubbling red liquid inside a glass barrel. It was blood, not animal blood but pure mortal blood.

"I am Donovan, and this," the bartender pulled down a lever, pouring fresh beer into a large mug.

"Is on the house,"

Avon grinned, taking the mug, raising it, and emptying the beer down his throat. Avon stunned Donovan by emptying the beer in one gulp.

"You're not bad for a noble, Duke," Donovan poured a mug of beer himself before pouring another one for Duke Avon.

"So how does it feel, to be a…how do the mortals call us, vampires?"

"Pretty powerful," Avon chuckled. Despite it being just beer he drank, he was feeling kinda drunk. The beer was brewed for the vampires and Duke Avon's body still hadn't completed changing yet. So just a mug of beer made Avon drunk. That had never happened before.

As minutes passed by Avon and Donovan went from strangers to buddies. Eventually, the topic turned to the vampires who stood out in the crowd.

"So Donovan, I saw some-'

"They are the death squad," before even Avon could finish his question, Donovan answered his question. Avon's face was void of any expression.

"Death squad?" Avon slightly tilted his head.

"Think of them as elite assassins with a special set of skills. Take him for example," Donovan pointed at the big burly man who was still throwing axes to the wall.

"That's Bear. He's anything but finesse. He opts for brutal, butchering his target switch axe style. When you make a statement or an example, that's your man,"

Afterward, Donovan pointed at the skinny man butchering the steaks with his yellow teeth.

"He's Snake. He likes to keep to himself. Not a great conversationalist but a great killer. Like his name suggests, he poisons his targets. Mortal believes once you hit the Fusion stage, you're immune to poisoning. Snake over there beg to differ,"

As Donovan mentioned, the people do believe that once a cultivator reaches the Fusion stage, they would become immune to all poisons. However, that wasn't entirely true. Although a Fusion stage cultivator would be immune to most poisons, there were several poisons that were powerful enough to kill them. They were extremely rare to get as they tend to be here in the vilest and most dangerous places.

Avon expected Donovan to describe either the man sharpening his dagger or the angelic woman next. To his surprise, Donovan pointed at a duo of young vampires drinking and laughing at a table a couple of meters away from him. These two did not stand out in the crowd at all. As far as Avon could tell, except for their races, they looked pretty normal. One was a dwarf with all the typical dwarven features such as a long beard, a big pot belly, and messy long hair. The one sitting next to him was a typical elf with striking golden hair and a perfect jaw structure.

"The dwarf is Gray Wolf and the other is White Wolf. Don't let their looks fool you. When it comes to killing, their abilities are second to none. They specialized in making a high-profile assassination look like a street crime,"

"A dwarf and an elf, huh," Duke Avon looked at them with a surprised look on his face. In this world, the dwarves and elves hated each other for some reason. Their enmity was like a cat and a mouse. They didn't know why they hated each other. Nonetheless, they hated each other to the core. Many knew that if you put a dwarf and an elf in the same room, the odds of murder were pretty significantly higher.

"No one knows how exactly they became friends. We only know several decades ago, Gray Wolf was a commander under the dwarven king and White served the empress. Rumors have it that each was part of an elite group in their respective nations until something happened. Now here we are, two birds killing folks happily. It's almost like a fairy tale," Donovan exclaimed.

Finally, Donovan turned his gaze toward the young woman who sat a couple of stools next to Avon. Despite being the prettiest woman in the tavern no one dared to approach her.

"That's Spider. She was born to an elven father and a human mother. Hated her elven dad, and loathed her mother and authority. Ran away from home at fourteen. She spent her next couple of decades under the tutelage of Elder Lenora. But that's a story for another time. Spider lures her marks in the most old-fashioned of ways with her beauty. When they least expect it, she unleashes the fury like a woman scorned. She's an expert swordswoman and a nasty bitch with a bow and arrows. There's a rumor going around that she keeps her male victims' nether regions in a trophy case at home. I don't know how true that is but if it is, that's some shitload of…" Donovan just winked without finishing his sentence. He let Avon fill out the last word.

"If I were you, I would stay as far as possible from her," Donovan said, lowering his voice. Then, he quickly pointed his finger at the man sharpening his dagger.

"He's called Puma. A hunter turned assassin. He's the one you call him when you want to take out a powerful high-profile target silently. Elder Lenora met him one day during one of his hunts and took an interest in him. This is just a rumor, but some say he almost hunted down Elder Lenora and when his hunt reached the end game, Elder Lenora was impressed by him and turned him and gave him teleportation talismans,"

"Teleportation talismans?" Duke Avon took a long sip of his beer.

"Yeah. There are a lot of complications killing a cultivator where they are strong. So he teleports them to a special hunting ground in the Southern continent and hunts them down like rabbits," said Donovan.

"So how does this death squad work? You go there, pay them and name the target," asked Avon.

"Hell no. They are not those cheap knockoff reapers. They are the elite killers. See that box over there," Donovan pointed at a wooden box hanging on the wall on the other side.

"You write the name of the target, why you want them dead, and how you want them dead and put it in the box. But remember this, you cannot write any name but only those who have committed a crime against our kind or the close ones to our kind. No one knows who takes the box and reads the contents inside. But once you put the name, a pigeon will come carrying the payment receipt. You pay them by putting all your gold coins in a space ring and giving it to the pigeons. Once that's done, your target will be dead within a week. After the payment has been made, there's no stopping,"