Hitman with a Badass System

Saber, despite his youthful appearance, exuded an air of authority and power that belied his age. His jet-black hair, styled in a loosely messy manner, framed his piercing blue eyes, which glinted with a hint of otherworldly wisdom. A hat adorned his head, adding a touch of mystery to his overall ensemble. Clad in black trousers and a matching coat that billowed slightly in the wind, he presented a striking figure against the backdrop of chaos and darkness.

White gloves adorned his hands, contrasting sharply with the darkness of his attire. His handsome features bore a hint of disgust, a resolute expression that reflected his unwavering resolve to stand against the abomination before him. Despite his youthful appearance, Saber was no ordinary teenager. As an Elder vampire, he had reached the pinnacle of his kind, attaining the revered level 10 Fusion stage. Combined with the potent elixirs provided by Michael and his innate elder vampire traits, Saber had become a formidable force to be reckoned with, capable of challenging even a Half Immortal.

In his eyes, there was no trace of fear, only a deep-seated repulsion for the monstrosity that stood before him. With every fiber of his being, Saber was prepared to unleash his full power to impress the Dark Lord and vanquish the foul creature that dared to threaten their dominion.

“Dark Lord,” Quintus’s piercing gaze shifted past Saber and locked onto Michael, the Dark Lord himself, who reclined on his throne with an air of nonchalant indifference. Resting one leg on top of the other, his head cradled by his fist, Michael exuded an aura of supreme confidence. Standing beside the throne, Azazel stood tall, a loyal sentinel ready to defend his lord at any cost.

Quintus’s eyes, burning with a malevolent mix of rage and bloodlust, bore into Michael with an intensity that could ignite the heavens. The Dark Lord’s actions had brought about the annihilation of Quintus’s beloved family, and now, the vampire thirsted for nothing less than tearing Michael apart limb from limb.

With every fiber of his being consumed by vengeance, Quintus’s crimson eyes flickered with a fiery determination, fueled by a primal urge to exact his revenge upon the Dark Lord who had shattered his world. The moment of reckoning had arrived, and Quintus could scarcely contain his anticipation, yearning for the opportunity to render Michael’s very existence into oblivion.

“Get the fuck out of my way, Saber!” Quintus’s thunderous roar reverberated through the air, catching Saber off guard as his own name echoed in Quintus’s furious proclamation. A flicker of surprise crossed Saber’s face, but he quickly recalled the Dark Lord’s briefing, where he had disclosed the infiltration of the guardians’ spies within the dark army. It dawned on Saber that his name might have been leaked, but he remained composed, knowing that the Dark Lord had a strategic plan in place to turn the tables on the guardians themselves.

Quintus, consumed by an inferno of rage and vampiric bloodlust, unleashed his wrathful tirade, describing in vivid detail how he would annihilate the Dark Lord and everyone he held dear. His words, laced with venomous anger, painted a gruesome picture of the torment and destruction he envisioned. “I’ll rip that fucking Dark Lord apart limb by limb! He shouldn’t have dared to lay a goddamn finger on my family! I’ll make sure he suffers a thousandfold for what he’s done!”

Quintus’s voice crackled with raw fury as he continued to unleash his vengeful threats. His fangs glistened with anticipation, eager to taste the Dark Lord’s blood and relish in the macabre pleasure of tearing apart his adversaries. The vampire’s eyes burned with an unholy fire, their crimson depths radiating a chilling intensity that would freeze the blood of any who dared to stand in his way.

Saber’s lip curled in a disdainful sneer. “What a pathetic disgrace,” he scoffed, his voice dripping with disgust. His fingers tightened around the brim of his hat, frustration was evident in his piercing blue eyes. Slowly and deliberately, he removed the hat from his head, revealing his combed but loosely messy black hair.

The disdain in Saber’s voice deepened as he spoke, his words carrying a cold certainty. “I should have personally ended Fabia’s miserable existence for daring to create such an abomination using my own blood.” The air around him crackled with quiet intensity as he tossed the hat aside, his focus solely fixed on Quintus.

With a measured calmness, Saber locked eyes with Quintus, his gaze unyielding. His tone remained steady and composed, though an underlying threat resonated in his words. “Hand over the two armor pieces that rightfully belonged to the Dark Lord, and I may consider sparing you the agony of being torn apart into countless pieces.”

The weight of Saber’s presence was undeniable, his power and confidence radiating like an aura around him. His gloved hands remained at his sides, ready to unleash the full extent of his formidable abilities should Quintus dare to resist.

A twisted grin spread across Quintus’s face as he spoke, his voice laced with sadistic anticipation. “I’ve never had the pleasure of tasting the blood of an elder vampire. I wonder how exquisite the flavor would be,” he taunted, prowling back and forth on all fours. In a disturbing display, Quintus rose to his full height, his hands dropping to his sides, revealing nails elongated into deadly claws.

Saber’s expression remained stoic, his eyes narrowing slightly as he adjusted his coat with a nonchalant gesture. His voice carried a cool confidence, cutting through the tension in the air. “So you’ve chosen to embrace a painful demise. How utterly predictable,” he remarked calmly, his words underscoring his unshaken resolve.

Quintus launched himself at Saber with incredible speed, his claws slashing through the air. Saber swiftly evaded the attack, his movements fluid and precise. He retaliated with a series of calculated strikes, landing blows that seemed to weaken Quintus with every hit.

Unleashing his mastery over spells, Saber tapped into his vampiric powers. He channeled his energy into a spell known as “Crimson Chains,” summoning ethereal tendrils of blood that snaked through the air toward Quintus. The chains coiled around Quintus’s limbs, restricting his movements and draining his strength.

Not content with just restraining his opponent, Saber followed up with another spell called “Hemorrhage.” He directed his focus toward Quintus’s body, causing his blood vessels to rupture and bleed profusely. Quintus howled in pain as crimson streams flowed from his wounds, weakening him further.

With each passing moment, Saber maintained his composure, exploiting Quintus’s vulnerabilities. He weaved intricate patterns in the air, conjuring a spell known as “Bloodbound Shield.” The shield formed a barrier of pulsating blood, deflecting Quintus’s frenzied attacks and protecting Saber from harm.

The battle raged on as Saber’s strategic maneuvers and precise spellcasting gave him the upper hand. His control over blood manipulation proved to be a formidable advantage as he continued to outmaneuver and weaken Quintus at every turn. The outcome of the battle was far from certain, but Saber’s calm demeanor and calculated tactics hinted at his eventual victory.

As Quintus faced Saber’s relentless assault, he unleashed his own feral and savage fighting style. His claws sliced through the air with deadly precision, aiming for Saber’s vulnerable spots. With each strike, Quintus displayed his raw power and ferocity, fueled by his vampiric bloodlust.

The armor pieces attached to Quintus’s chest radiated an eerie crimson glow, surrounded by crackling red lightning that danced around him. The armor, adorned with the skull symbol of the Dark Lord, acted as a shield, repelling Saber’s spells and mitigating their impact. The lightning-infused protection granted Quintus a brief respite from Saber’s onslaught, bolstering his defense and enabling him to retaliate.

Seizing the opportunity, Quintus lunged forward, his elongated tongue whipping through the air like a deadly whip. He aimed to ensnare Saber and draw him closer for a devastating strike. His supernatural strength and agility, coupled with the protection of the Dark Lord’s armor, made Quintus a formidable adversary.

With a primal roar, Quintus unleashed a flurry of rapid strikes, his claws tearing through the air with blinding speed. The armor pieces emitted bursts of crimson lightning, empowering his attacks and infusing them with additional destructive force. Each blow landed with bone-crushing impact, aimed at overwhelming Saber’s defenses and wearing him down.

As Quintus unleashed his vicious onslaught, Saber maintained a calm and composed demeanor, evading and parrying his attacks with calculated precision. While Quintus fought with wild ferocity, it became evident that Saber was intentionally restraining his full power, as if toying with his opponent.

Despite the intensity of the battle, Saber’s movements were graceful and calculated, his actions guided by strategic prowess and supernatural agility. He weaved effortlessly through Quintus’s strikes, countering with fluid and well-timed maneuvers. It seemed as though Saber was testing Quintus, probing his weaknesses and exploiting them with measured precision.

The clash continued as Quintus’s power waned, gradually diminishing from his supposed Half Immortal level 1 to the lower Fusion stage. It became apparent that Quintus’s previous display of Half Immortal cultivation was merely a facade fueled by the blood essence he had absorbed from the soldiers he had slain. This illusory power was a far cry from the genuine strength of a true Half Immortal.

While Quintus relied on the temporary surge of borrowed power, Saber’s true strength emanated from his innate abilities as an Elder vampire, further enhanced by Michael’s potent potions. With each passing moment, Saber’s superiority over Quintus became more apparent, his movements calculated and efficient, never wasting unnecessary energy.

Saber’s measured approach conveyed a sense of confidence and assuredness. He knew that, despite Quintus’s menacing presence and the crimson lightning-infused armor, the true extent of his adversary’s power fell short. Saber was biding his time, waiting for the opportune moment to unleash his full strength and bring an end to the battle on his terms.

With a swift agility, Saber gracefully evaded Quintus’s frenzied attack, sidestepping his slashing claws and darting past his menacing tongue. In a display of sheer strength, Saber seized Quintus’s elongated tongue in a firm grip, yanking him closer with a forceful pull. With a concentrated focus, Saber channeled his power into a single devastating punch that sent Quintus hurtling through the air, crashing into a nearby structure with a resounding impact.

As the dust settled, Saber slowly removed his gloves, revealing his pale, flawless hands. His once calm and composed expression transformed into a resolute determination, and his piercing blue eyes underwent a gradual metamorphosis, the tranquil hue shifting to a vibrant crimson red, reflecting the intensity of his unleashed power.

Drawing upon his mastery of blood-related spells, Saber tapped into the primal forces that flowed within his veins. In a seamless motion, he began weaving an intricate pattern with his outstretched hands, conjuring the essence of blood itself. Scarlet tendrils of energy swirled around his fingertips, pulsating with a sinister vitality.

With a sudden surge of power, Saber launched his first spell, aptly named “Crimson Vortex.” As his hands whirled through the air, the swirling vortex of blood-red energy materialized before him. It expanded rapidly, engulfing the surrounding area with a hypnotic crimson glow. The sheer force of the vortex created a vacuum, drawing Quintus toward its center.

Saber’s second spell, “Veins of Nightfall,” complimented the Crimson Vortex, adding an ethereal touch to his onslaught. From his fingertips, wisps of dark shadows materialized, intertwining with the crimson energy. These shadowy tendrils extended toward Quintus, wrapping around him like serpents, constricting his movements and sapping away his strength.

Within the combined grasp of the Crimson Vortex and the Veins of Nightfall, Quintus found himself ensnared in a maelstrom of blood and shadows. The pulsating crimson energy gnawed at his flesh, penetrating his defenses, while the inky darkness drained his vitality with every passing moment. Quintus thrashed and writhed, his movements becoming feeble and his monstrous form gradually succumbing to the overwhelming onslaught.

As Saber maintained his unwavering focus, his eyes ablaze with crimson intensity, he unleashed the full might of his blood-infused spells. The scene unfolded with vivid imagery, the convergence of blood and shadows creating an otherworldly spectacle. The air crackled with raw power as the combined assault ravaged Quintus, tearing through his defenses and eroding his vampiric resilience.𝞸𝒱𝑙xt.𝗇𝓔t

In this climactic confrontation, Saber’s mastery over blood magic and his intrinsic elder vampire prowess fused seamlessly, forming an unstoppable force against his adversary. The onslaught of blood and shadows enveloped Quintus, marking the beginning of his inevitable downfall at the hands of Saber’s relentless onslaught.

As Saber pressed his advantage, his crimson-infused onslaught continued unabated. Each strike landed with surgical precision, targeting vulnerable points on Quintus’s body. With each bone-crushing blow, a sickening crack echoed through the air, signifying the shattering of Quintus’s defenses.

Blood erupted from Quintus’s mouth, spurting in crimson arcs with each impact. The once formidable vampire writhed in agony, his monstrous form now reduced to a battered and broken shell. As Saber’s assault intensified, Quintus’s body became a canvas of pain and brutality.

In a merciless display of dominance, Saber seized Quintus’s outstretched arm, twisting it with an unholy strength that surpassed the limits of mortal capabilities. Bones snapped and splintered, punctuating the air with a symphony of torment. Quintus’s agonized screams echoed through the desolate surroundings, blending with the chaotic clash of battle.

With a primal fury burning in his crimson eyes, Saber relentlessly pursued his onslaught. He moved with a ruthless grace, evading Quintus’s feeble attempts at defense while delivering devastating strikes that further shattered the vampire’s deteriorating form. Each blow sent shockwaves of pain rippling through Quintus’s body, reducing him to a pitiful, broken creature.

As the battle neared its climax, Saber seized hold of Quintus’s elongated tongue, the very instrument that had caused so much suffering. With a surge of strength, he yanked it free from Quintus’s twisted maw, eliciting a gory fountain of blood. The severed appendage dangled from Saber’s grip, a macabre testament to his triumph over his vampiric foe.

Bloodied and broken, Quintus gasped for air, his body wracked with convulsions. His once formidable presence was reduced to a pitiful heap, limbs twisted and mangled. Every inch of his being bore the marks of Saber’s merciless assault, a testament to the unleashed fury of a determined elder vampire.

The battlefield was drenched in a ghastly tableau of crimson, the very life essence of Quintus spilling out in torrents. The air hung heavy with the metallic scent of blood, mingling with the acrid tang of decay. The scene bore witness to the raw brutality of the encounter, a visceral display of the consequences faced by those who dared to challenge Saber’s unyielding resolve.

The once formidable Quintus lay broken and defeated, his monstrous visage reduced to a shattered husk. The battle had reached its horrific conclusion, leaving a trail of devastation in its wake.

With Quintus lying broken and defeated, Saber approached the fallen vampire, his gaze filled with disdain. He reached down, his gloved hand closing around the two armor pieces that adorned Quintus’s chest. With a powerful yank, he tore them from their resting place, causing Quintus to roar in a mixture of pain and fury.

At that moment, Saber’s voice cut through the air like a blade, his tone laced with a cold superiority that pierced Quintus’s wounded pride. 

“You are nothing more than a pitiful byproduct of twisted experiments,” he hissed, his words dripping with contempt. “A mockery of what it means to be a vampire, born from the meddling of inferior beings.”

As Quintus writhed in agony, his monstrous form battered and broken, Saber towered over him, radiating an aura of dominance. 

Without a hint of mercy, Saber raised his boot high above Quintus’s head, the final blow poised to descend. The weight of his conviction fueled the force behind his strike, amplified by his unyielding determination to rid the world of this abomination. In a resounding act of retribution, he brought his foot crashing down, meeting Quintus’s skull with devastating force.

A sickening crunch reverberated through the air as bone shattered and flesh gave way beneath Saber’s merciless assault. Quintus’s head crumpled beneath the impact, reducing it to a gruesome, unrecognizable pulp of blood and shattered fragments. Saber’s boot remained firmly planted on the remains, a symbol of his triumph and a testament to the unyielding power he possessed.

The battlefield was silenced, save for the faint echoes of Saber’s victorious blow. The lifeless body of Quintus lay motionless, a grim reminder of the consequences that befell those who dared to cross the Dark Lord. 

After dealing the final blow to Quintus, Saber turned his gaze towards Michael, who sat regally upon his throne, observing the aftermath. As he reached Michael’s side, he gracefully dropped to one knee, a sign of reverence and submission. With a solemn gesture, he extended his hand, presenting the two armor pieces he had ripped from Quintus’s chest.

Michael, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction, rose from his throne, accepting the offered artifacts. As his fingertips made contact with the ancient armor, a surge of power coursed through the pieces, causing the crimson-red lightning that once encircled them to dissipate. It was as if they had found their rightful place in the presence of their true creator.

Carefully, Michael placed the armor pieces into his system storage, a secure sanctuary for precious relics.

Michael unsheathed his dark swords as the blades hummed with a dark energy that resonated with the very essence of their master.

Drawing closer to Saber, Michael touched the tip of his sword against the vampire’s shoulder, the cold metal making contact with his flesh. The weight of the moment hung in the air, anticipation and significance intermingling.

“This was the final test I had prepared for you, and you have exceeded my expectations, as I always knew you would,” Michael spoke with a voice that carried both authority and admiration. His words held the weight of a solemn declaration. “From this day forward, you shall bear the title of the King of Nightwalkers. I bestow upon you this honor, recognizing your unwavering loyalty and unwavering strength.”