Hitman with a Badass System

Chapter 1160  Leveling Up – Golden Age of Michael Returns

Suddenly, the guard who had locked the door felt a sharp, piercing pain in his chest. His eyes widened in shock as he looked down to see a sword protruding from his chest. Blood began to bubble up from his mouth, and he felt the warm trickle of blood sliding down the blade.

The guards who witnessed Michael appear behind their comrade were stunned, their reactions a mix of horror and disbelief. “He’s behind you!” one guard shouted, his voice tinged with terror.

“Impossible! How did he…?” another guard stammered, unable to comprehend the situation.

“He wasn’t in the cage? It was a trick!” a third guard exclaimed, realization dawning on his face.

The room erupted into chaos as the guards gasped in shock and panic, seeing that Michael was not inside the cage. Some of them were still grappling with the fact that the figure they thought they had captured was nothing but a hollow armor.

Confusion and fear spread among the guards as they shouted to each other, trying to make sense of the situation and regroup. “What’s going on? How did he escape?” they yelled, their voices overlapping in the ensuing pandemonium.

Michael’s calculated and stealthy maneuver had thrown the temple into disarray, his presence outside the cage revealing the clever ruse he had employed.

As the guard collapsed to the ground, lifeless, the system notifications chimed in Michael’s ear, acknowledging his kill and rewarding him with experience points. action

[Ding! Congratulations to the host for killing a Spiritual Embryo Realm Cultivator. The reward is 5000 Experience points and 400 Badass points]

[Ding! Congratulations to the host for successfully being a badass. The reward is 5000 Badass points] Michael, unfazed by the notifications and focused on the task at hand, casually and stylishly wiped the blood off his sword onto his sleeve. His movements were smooth and unruffled, a testament to his confidence and experience in such situations.

He remained calm and collected amidst the chaos he had caused, ready for the next phase of his plan to unfold.

Fayeth’s tense expression softened into a sigh of relief as she realized that Michael was not actually trapped in the cage. Observing him, she felt a sense of awe and gratitude. Despite standing in the presence of a god, she didn’t feel intimidated; instead, she felt a sense of justice and responsiveness to her prayers.

The orc, on the other hand, growled in frustration and anger, realizing that he had been outsmarted by the God of Darkness. His sense of triumph had turned into embarrassment and fury.

The guards, now in a state of alarm, turned to the orc, their captain, for guidance. “Captain, what should we do?” one of them shouted, his voice tinged with panic.

“We can’t take on a god, not even if we were at the highest cultivation stage!” Another guard chimed in.

The orc, his face contorted with rage, barked orders at his men. “Throw everything you have at him! Spells, attacks, everything!” he commanded, desperate to regain control of the situation.

Despite their fear and the knowledge of their own limitations, they readied themselves to follow their captain’s orders in a desperate attempt to subdue the God of Darkness.

The temple guards, motivated by their captain’s command, began to cast their spells. As worshippers of Rainar, the god of rain, their spells were predominantly based on water and rain elements. The air in the temple became charged with magical energy as they chanted and gestured, summoning their powers.

Some guards’ bodies shimmered with a bluish glow as they cast enhancement spells on themselves, their muscles bulging and eyes glowing with a fierce, watery light. Others conjured streams of water that swirled around them, forming whips and tendrils that lashed out with a life of their own.

The spells materialized into various forms – torrents of water spiraling towards Michael, sharp icicles formed from condensed moisture, and waves of pressurized water blasts. Meanwhile, the orc, a clone controlled by the real orc somewhere else, had a moment of recollection. He vaguely remembered a translucent shield that would appear around the God of Darkness, absorbing spells. The real orc, receiving only partial memories from his clone upon its demise, struggled to recall the full details of their previous encounter. His memory was fragmented, leaving him with only vague impressions of their last battle.

The orc, his eyes filled with killing intent, shouted at Fayeth, “Once I’m done with you, there won’t be anyone left to pray for!”

With a burst of speed, he dashed towards Fayeth, intending to harm her while his men were preoccupied with casting spells and attacking Michael. The temple filled with the sounds of battle, the guards’ focus entirely on trying to subdue the God of Darkness.

However, Michael, utilizing his shadow teleportation, suddenly vanished into the shadows and reappeared behind the orc. Without hesitation, he delivered a powerful kick, sending the orc flying across the room.

The guards, witnessing Michael’s sudden teleportation, were stunned and momentarily distracted from their attacks. “He vanished!” one guard exclaimed in disbelief.

“Where did he go?” another guard shouted, looking around frantically.

Before they could react further, the orc, recovering from the blow, shouted a warning to his men, “He’s using shadows to teleport! Watch the shadows!”

Realizing the tactic that Michael was employing, the guards shifted their focus, warily eyeing the dark corners and shadows around the temple. The battle escalated, with Michael’s ability to manipulate shadows adding a new layer of complexity to the confrontation.

“Target Fayeth! Now!” The orc, realizing his disadvantage, shouted a desperate command to his guards.

Immediately, several guards began to redirect their spells towards Fayeth, unleashing torrents of water and sharp icicles in her direction. At the same time, those enhanced by spells dashed towards Michael, their movements swift and aggressive.

Michael, poised and ready, sprang into action. His sword flashed in his hand, a deadly extension of his will. As the first guard lunged at him, he deftly sidestepped and sliced through the guard’s defense, his blade cutting deeply. Blood sprayed, painting a stark contrast against the cold, stone floor of the temple.

With fluid grace, Michael engaged another guard. He parried a strike with his sword and then, with a flick of his wrist, a retractable black shield emerged, blocking a vicious blow. He countered with a swift thrust of his sword, finding the guard’s weak spot, and the guard crumpled to the ground.

“Be careful, John!” Fayeth, watching the battle, cried out instinctively.

Ayag added, her voice filled with excitement, “That’s it! Show them who’s the boss!”

“Strike them down! They can’t match your speed!” As Michael fought, Sarba shouted encouragement.

The orc, seeing his men fall one by one, roared in frustration, “Kill him! Kill him now!”

Michael, amidst the chaos, remained a whirlwind of deadly efficiency. He ducked under a swing, his movements a blur, and delivered a brutal kick that sent another guard flying. “Is this the best you can do?” he taunted, his voice cold and filled with killing intent.

[Ding! Congratulations to the host for killing a Spiritual badass. The reward is 5000 Badass points] Each move was calculated, and each strike was precise. Michael danced between the guards, his sword and shield a symphony of destruction. He moved like a shadow, untouchable and lethal. As each guard fell, his dominance in the fight became more apparent, his skill unmatched by any present.

“We are ending the show today,” Michael declared, his voice a quiet promise of retribution as he continued to cut down the guards, one after another, in a display of unmatched martial prowess.

As the battle raged on, Michael’s prowess was undeniable. With each guard he dispatched, his experience points steadily accumulated. He was close to reaching the next cultivation stage, the Spiritual Embryo Realm, from his current Qi Awakening Stage, with 60,000 out of the required 100,000 experience points already in his tally.

When he dispatched the eighth guard with a swift, lethal strike, a surge of energy coursed through him, signaling a significant breakthrough. The system notification rang clearly in his head.

[Ding! Congratulations to Host for reaching the Spiritual Embryo Realm].

Michael, now even more empowered, continued his assault on the remaining guards. He moved with a confidence and skill that was awe-inspiring, dispatching his foes with ease, yet he hadn’t even tapped into his full godly abilities. His swordsmanship alone was enough to dominate the battle.

Turning his attention to the orc, Michael taunted him, “Didn’t Rainar give you more of his grace to absorb?” He reminded the orc of their previous encounter, where Michael had snatched a sliver of Rainar’s grace from him. “Seems like you’re still as weak as the last clone I fought.” Michael snickered.

“You’ll pay for this, God of Darkness! Rainar will have your head!” The orc, enraged by Michael’s words and the loss of his men, roared back in fury.

The orc’s anger was palpable, his voice filled with hatred and the promise of revenge. Yet, in the face of Michael’s newfound power and skill, his threats seemed more like the last desperate cries of a defeated foe.

Despite the dire situation, the orc let out a snickering roar. “Kill me and I’ll just come back as another clone. You can’t stop me that easily,” he boasted, his voice dripping with malice.

His gaze then shifted past Michael to Fayeth, who stood resolute behind him. The orc’s expression twisted into one of spite as he threatened, “I might not be able to kill a god, but I won’t stop until I kill Fayeth and everyone else you remotely care about.”

Michael, unfazed by the orc’s threats, chuckled lightly. His confidence was unwavering, his demeanor calm yet menacing. “You’re not coming after me,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Because I’m coming after you and Rainar.”