Hitman with a Badass System

The grand hall was filled with an aura of anticipation as the three great clans of the Sea Folk realm, House Halrid, House Bigmag, and House Gladwrath, gathered to attend the trial by combat. Michael, the Dark Lord, stood at the center of the hall, his presence commanding and intimidating. He patiently waited for the final group to arrive, eager to see who dared to take the spirit child from his realm.

Suddenly, the space around him distorted once again, and a swirling vortex appeared. Out of the portal stepped a group of mermons, their golden robes shimmering in the light. Their arrogant eyes scanned the hall, exuding an air of superiority that made even the most powerful cultivators in the room feel small. But when their eyes landed on Michael, their expressions shifted to one of stunned disbelief.

Gruzal, the man leading the group, was the only one who maintained his composure. He had anticipated the Dark Lord's arrival and had prepared himself accordingly. The mermons floated above the ground, their eyes fixed on the human before them. Michael, in turn, took a step forward, his expression unreadable but his eyes burning with a dangerous fire.

As Gormak's group and Valen's group made way for the Dark Lord, the tension in the hall grew even thicker. Everyone could feel the animosity between the two forces as they met in the center of the room, their gazes locked in a fierce staring contest. Michael's killing intent was palpable, and the mermons could not help but feel a twinge of fear.

The silence was deafening as the two faced off. The fate of the two proud houses hung in the balance, and all eyes were on them. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation as if a single word or action could ignite the spark that would set the entire realm ablaze.

For a moment, time stood still. The mermons and the Dark Lord were like two opposing forces, ready to collide at any moment. But then, Gruzal broke the silence, his voice ringing out across the hall.

"So they stooped low enough to bring the Dark Lord into our world," Gruzal snickered. His tone was even and unwavering. Michael did not reply, but the look in his eyes said it all.

The tension in the room reached its peak, and everyone held their breath, waiting for the inevitable clash between the mermons and the Dark Lord.

As Michael took a single step forward, the tension in the hall became palpable. All the other mermons, who were poised to defend themselves, suddenly found themselves frozen in place, their eyes fixed on the Dark Lord. Gllelus, Gruzal's best friend, stepped forward to stand beside him, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of the sword dangling at his waist.

But Gruzal did not flinch. He stood his ground, his piercing gaze locked with Michael's. A sense of eerie calm surrounded him as if he had anticipated the Dark Lord's arrival all along.

Michael leaned forward slightly, his eyes burning with an intense killing intent that could make even the bravest warrior shudder. The mermons' apprehension was palpable as they tensed up, ready for whatever was to come.

"Once I am done with the trial, you will face my trial, and I will be your executioner," Michael's words were spoken with a chilling calmness that belied the danger that he posed.

The darkness in the hall seemed to intensify for a moment, causing the mermons to shift uneasily on their feet. There was a deafening silence for a few seconds as Michael and Gruzal continued to stare at each other, their eyes locked in a battle of wills.

Finally, Gruzal spoke, his voice laced with a confidence that seemed to come from somewhere deep within. "I have been waiting for this day, Dark Lord," he said, his words dripping with a venomous sarcasm that sent shivers down the spines of the other mermons.

Gruzal's gaze never wavered as he continued to stare at Michael. It was as if he was daring the Dark Lord to try and make a move against him. The tension in the hall was thick enough to cut with a knife, and everyone present knew that something significant was about to happen.

Michael chuckled after hearing Gruzal. The air crackled with tension as Michael's laughter filled the hall, sending chills down the spine of everyone present. The darkness swirled around him like a living entity, its malevolent energy amplifying the Dark Lord's already overwhelming power. Mutrad, who once thought he had witnessed the full extent of Michael's might, knew Gruzal had made an enemy he shouldn't have. In Valen's eyes, the power the Dark Lord possessed was a power beyond comprehension, beyond the limits of what a mere mortal could possess.

A cold, deadly calmness took over as Michael's laughter died down. His eyes gleamed with a fiery intensity as he fixed his gaze on the enemy who dared to take something precious from him.

"You took something precious from me but forgot one important detail. I am the Dark Lord and those who cross me never live to regret it," Michael's voice was like the sound of ice cracking, sharp and deadly.

The atmosphere in the hall turned even darker, as if the very air had turned to stone. Even the bravest of hearts trembled in fear at the Dark Lord's wrath. Michael's power surged, reaching heights no one had ever witnessed. Some of the mermons who had thought they had succeeded in their mission now knew that they had awoken a sleeping dragon, and they would pay dearly for it.

At that moment, Mutrad saw the Dark Lord's power reach the Half Celestial stage, passing Gruzal's Immortal level 10 cultivation.

As the tension in the hall reached its peak, a voice that dripped with authority boomed, echoing through the grand space. Michael looked up to see figures materializing before each of the eight thrones on the elevated platform.

"We will see how you dare to raise a finger against one of the proud sea folk,"

"The elders,' Mutrad mumbled, seeing the elders appear before the thrones one by one. Their presence exuded power and dominance, and their gazes were fixed on Michael with an intensity that made the Mutrad's skin crawl. Clearly, these sea folk took great pride in their heritage, and they weren't going to let anyone, even the Dark Lord, harm one of their own. Each of them was at the Immortal stage level 10, but their auras were far stronger than the aura radiating from Gruzal.

The eight elders were an imposing sight, consisting of three Mermons, three Wraiths, and two Earthens. Their eyes were fixated on Michael and the others, and their expressions were unreadable.

The members of House Bigmag and House Halrid turned their gazes toward the elders, their bodies tensing up in fear. Valen shivered at the thought of asking the Dark Lord's help and how the elders would react. Though they hadn't broken any rules or laws by asking the Dark Lord to represent them in the trial by combat, they feared the wrath of the elders and hoped they wouldn't receive any punishment.

The tension in the hall was thick enough to cut with a knife as everyone waited for the elders' response.

Michael took a calculated step back, his eyes fixed on the elevated platform where the eight elders sat in their respective thrones. He was expecting a response from them, but what he didn't expect was their gazes turning towards Valen and Gormak, who had asked for the Dark Lord's help in the trial by combat.

The elders knew that the duo had not violated any laws or rules, but their anger was evident as their eyes blazed with fury. They were ashamed that their own descendants had lost their precious artifacts and had to resort to seeking help from the feared Dark Lord.

The tension in the hall was palpable, and Michael could feel it crackling in the air. The elders' anger was a living, breathing thing that threatened to engulf the entire room. Michael stood tall, unflinching in the face of their wrath, his eyes blazing with a power that surpassed anything the elders had ever seen before.

It was a silent standoff, each side sizing up the other, the stakes high and the consequences of their actions potentially dire. For a moment, no one moved, and the only sound that could be heard was the beating of their hearts.

Finally, one of the Mermon elders spoke up, his voice carrying the weight of centuries of tradition and power.

The mermon elder spoke with a voice dripping with disdain and disappointment. "It is a shameful thing to witness two houses, who were tasked with protecting the artifacts for thousands of years, lose them under their watch. We will not entertain any excuses, no matter how one tries to spin it. Losing the artifacts is not just a mark of shame, it is a sign of weakness,"

The Wraith elder's piercing gaze scanned the room before settling on Gormak and Mutrad. "And on top of losing the artifacts your ancestors protected for centuries, you have the audacity to invite the Dark Lord into our world, despite knowing the prophecies and the stories of his atrocities," he said in a voice filled with disdain.

Gruzal's eyes gleamed with a hidden sense of pleasure as he watched the elders verbally lash out at the leaders of his rival houses. He knew that Valen and Gormak had thought bringing in the Dark Lord was a smart move, but they were unaware of the elders' power to change the rules of the trial by combat. Gruzal relished in their downfall and waited to see what fate the elders would bestow upon them.

One of the Wraith elders spoke with a kind yet stern voice, "There are some actions that one should refrain from, even if they do not violate any laws or rules. Your decision to seek the Dark Lord's aid in this matter is ill-advised and could have dire consequences for our world."

He paused for a moment and continued, "We must hear your reasoning for this choice. Why did you seek the help of the Dark Lord instead of relying on the strongest warriors from your own houses?"

The elder gave Valen and Gormak an opportunity to explain themselves, showing a willingness to listen before making any judgments.

Valen stepped forward and lifted his head to meet the elders' gazes.

"I will not make any excuses for the loss of our artifact," he began. "But we did not anticipate that a powerful ritual would be conducted using the blood of a spirit child to break the array that protected our artifacts."

Valen's words were like a sudden bolt of lightning that struck the elders, leaving them momentarily stunned. The mermon elder's face was etched with a deep frown, his eyes narrow with suspicion.

"What proof do you have to support this allegation, Gormak?" asked the elder, his voice laced with skepticism.

Gormak stood tall and confident as he answered, "Once we retrieve our artifacts, I will use the artifact of House Bigmag. If someone had used the blood of a spirit child, our artifact would find the spirit child."

The elders exchanged uncertain glances, their minds racing as they considered the implications of Gormak's statement.

"But that doesn't explain why you felt the need to invite the Dark Lord to our world," another elder, a Wraith, spoke up.

Before Gormak could answer, Michael stepped forward with a chilling declaration, "Because the spirit child was taken away from his home by one of your people,"

The room fell silent as the weight of Michael's words settled upon them. The tension in the air was palpable as the elders grappled with the severity of the situation.

"What proof do you have for that claim?" the mermon elder snarled, his eyes fixed on Michael, who stood with a calm expression.

"Proof?" Michael's voice was low and dangerous, his eyes blazing with a fierce intensity. "I don't need proof. I will find the one who took the spirit child and make them pay with their blood and the blood of anyone who dared to stand with them. The water will turn red with their blood, and their screams will echo through history for eternity."