Hitman with a Badass System - Chapter 1365

Chapter 1365 Gearing upto take out Rin

The moment Rin's soul fragment was devoured, the crimson glow faded from Tiberius's eyes. His body, ravaged by the self-inflicted wounds, slumped in Michael's arms, lifeless. There was no time for healing potions, no chance for a last-minute miracle.

Michael sighed, a heavy, weary sound, and gently lowered Tiberius's body to the ground before Lailah.

"Goodbye, my friend," Michael whispered, his voice barely audible. "Be at peace."

He crossed Tiberius's arms across his chest, a gesture of respect, a final farewell in accordance with the customs of the Southern Continent, where Tiberius had been born.

Then, Michael straightened up, his gaze hardening as he turned towards Lailah.

"Now do you care about Rin?" he asked, his voice a low growl. "That... is what the Princess of Murder is capable of. She's not some... circus clown, spouting empty threats. She's the real deal, Lailah. A real piece of work."

Lailah stared at Tiberius's lifeless form, a cold dread creeping up her spine. She'd encountered her fair share of cruel and violent individuals over the years. She'd seen firsthand the darkness that lurked in the hearts of men and women, the depths of depravity they were capable of.

But there was something about Rin... something that chilled her to her very core.

It wasn't just the casual brutality, the gleeful sadism, the sheer joy she seemed to take in inflicting pain. It was the... the deception.

Lailah remembered, with a clarity that made her stomach churn, her first encounter with Rin. It had been about a month ago, just before Michael had launched his attack on Skyhall.

A kind, elderly woman, her face wrinkled with age, her eyes filled with a gentle wisdom, had approached her. She'd called herself Bai Ming, and she'd seemed... concerned. She'd asked about Harry, about Lailah's struggles, about her fears. She'd offered comfort, advice, and... a gift.

The grace of Ava.

Lailah, desperate to protect her son, blinded by her own fear and desperation, had accepted. She hadn't questioned the woman's motives, hadn't suspected... anything.

Now, looking back, she realized how foolish she'd been.

Even Michael, a year ago, had fallen prey to her deception. He'd encountered Rin in Eden's Garden, disguised as a young elven woman, a seemingly harmless salesgirl. Their conversation had been brief, inconsequential. This was Rin's MO as she was a chameleon who could blend into any crowd, adopt any persona, to achieve her twisted goals. She'd approach her targets, her victims, with kindness, with concern, with a carefully crafted façade of empathy to gain their trust, lower their defenses, and strike when they least expect it. And for Lailah, blinded by her love for Harry, desperate to protect him from the encroaching darkness...,she'd been the perfect target. Easy prey.

For Rin, manipulating Lailah, convincing her to absorb a volatile, potentially deadly grace, had been child's play. A game. A way to amuse herself, to exact a little revenge on Michael for stealing the Grimoire from under her nose.

Finally, Michael turned his gaze back to Lailah, his anger fading, replaced by a cold, calculating concern. He could see it now, the energy fluctuations around her, the way her aura flickered and pulsed, like a candle flame in a hurricane. That grace... it was tearing her apart from the inside out.

"Damn it, Lailah," he muttered, shaking his head. "You really screwed this time,"

He accessed the System, his mind focusing on the swirling interface, the endless possibilities it offered.

"System," he thought, "can you... stabilize that grace? The one she absorbed?"

[The system can do it. However, Stabilizing the Grace of Ava will require 150 million Badass Points.]

[Does the host wish to stabilize the grace now?]

And with that, he shot up into the sky, leaving Lailah and the academy behind. But Michael didn't return to the Dark Castle. He had other... priorities. He reappeared in the Azure Citadel, his expression grim, his thoughts a whirlwind of anger and regret. The dark army soldiers were still busy sorting through the loot, their movements efficient, their expressions a mixture of awe and greed.

"My lord," Trista greeted, bowing her head respectfully. "Welcome back. Lenora is overseeing the looting operation at the Emerald Palace. Shall I summon her?"

Michael shook his head. He didn't want to see Lenora right now. He didn't want to see anyone. He just wanted... to be alone. To process what had happened. To plan his next move.

"No need," he said, his voice a low growl. "Just... show me to the meditation hall. There has to be one, right? Those Skyhall bastards loved their seclusion,"

"Of course, my lord," Trista said, leading him deeper into the palace. They passed through grand halls filled with priceless artifacts, their surfaces now covered in a thin layer of dust, evidence of Skyhall's hasty retreat.

"Fucking idiots," Trista muttered, shaking her head as they walked past a wall adorned with a massive, gold-framed painting of some pompous-looking Skyhall ancestor. "Spending all that money on... paintings. Useless crap."

She stopped before a set of double doors, crafted from polished gold and inlaid with intricate carvings.

"This is it, my lord. The... Sanctum of Serenity, they called it. Where they'd go to... seclude themselves,"

Michael pushed the doors open, revealing a spacious, circular chamber. The walls were lined with cushions covered in soft silks, the floor covered in a plush carpet that muffled their footsteps. A single shaft of light, filtered through a circular skylight high above, illuminated the center of the room, where a raised platform, covered in a thick white fur, beckoned invitingly.

It was quiet. Peaceful. A stark contrast to the chaos and carnage that raged outside.

Michael walked towards the center of the room, his boots sinking into the plush carpet, and sat down on the platform, his back straight, his eyes closed.

"Trista," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "Bring me... all the gold."

Trista blinked, momentarily confused. "All the... gold, my lord? From this palace?"

"All of it," Michael repeated, his eyes still closed.

Trista, despite her confusion, didn't question his orders. She bowed her head respectfully and hurried off to gather the loot. Soon, a steady stream of dark army soldiers, their arms laden with heavy chests overflowing with gold coins, filed into the chamber. They deposited their burdens at Michael's feet, the clinking of metal against metal a strangely soothing sound in the otherwise silent room.

"That's... that's all of it, my lord," Trista said, gesturing towards the mountain of gold that now surrounded Michael.

"Good," Michael said, his eyes still closed. "You can all leave now. And... no one disturbs me. Understood?"

The soldiers, their gazes lingering on the gold for a moment, nodded quickly and filed out of the room, closing the doors behind them.

Michael opened his eyes, staring at the mountain of gold before him.

He had 1.85 billion badass points, to be exact. But he wanted more. He needed more.

He was going after Rin. And he was going to need every advantage he could get.

He activated the System's Banker function, his mind focusing on the conversion process. Gold coins, symbols of wealth and power in the mortal realm, were about to become something far more valuable, far more potent.

"I'm coming for you, bitch," he muttered, a predatory grin spreading across his face. "And you better be ready."