Hitman With A Badass System

Chapter 1303  Michael’s Sinister Plan

As more and more demons piled onto the Dark Lord, their roars filled the air, each of them thrusting their spears, swords, and axes down into the mass. From above, Elder Tarsus could only see the writhing mound of demonic bodies and the flashes of their weapons striking down. The scene was obscured, leaving him and his forces unsure of what exactly was happening beneath the pile of demons.

The Skyhall angels, watching from a safer distance, reacted with a mix of emotions. Some were shocked, their faces etched with disbelief at the sight of so many demons overwhelming a single opponent. Others shouted in excitement and relief, believing that this might be the end of the formidable Dark Lord.

"Finally, they got him!" one angel yelled as his voice crackled with the thrill of the moment.

"Stick him good, tear him apart!" another screamed, bloodlust clear in his tone.

"Ha! Watch him fall beneath our might!" a third angel shouted, raising his weapon in the air as a sign of victory.

"Keep going! Make sure he doesn't get back up!" encouraged another, eagerly anticipating the end of the Dark Lord.

Suddenly, a fierce roar erupted from beneath the pile of demons, sending a shockwave of primal energy radiating outward. Within moments, the demons that had been heaping atop Michael were violently expelled in all directions. Dark flames, intense and consuming, burst forth from the center of the pile, scorching everything in their vicinity.

The demons caught in the blast were flung away; the luckier ones soared through the air, their burn wounds sizzling but beginning to heal rapidly as they regained their bearings. However, those who had been at the first layer, directly smothering Michael, weren't so fortunate. They were engulfed by the dark flames at such close range that their bodies were incinerated to ashes, leaving no chance for recovery or regeneration.

As the last of the flames dwindled and the air cleared, Michael stood up amidst the charred and scorched ground. He calmly cracked his neck, an almost casual gesture after the explosive display of power. "Damn him! How does that son of a bitch keep standing?" Elder Tarsus cursed loudly as he saw the Dark Lord effortlessly regain his composure.

From his vantage point, the elf noted that although there were cuts and marks littering Michael's armor, none of the demons' attacks had penetrated his defense. It was obvious that nothing in the demons' arsenal could breach the sophisticated material of his armor.

On the battlefield, the demons that had fully healed from their burns exchanged looks, their gestures indicating a shift in strategy. Understanding the lethal potential of Michael's dark flames, they adapted their tactics in a chilling new way. Suddenly, with coordinated precision, each demon lunged at the nearest Skyhall angels. Using their four powerful arms, they grabbed one or two angels each and charged towards Michael. The Skyhall angels who witnessed this turn of events voiced their horror and disbelief through curses and shouts. "What the hell are they doing with our own?!" one angel screamed, a mix of confusion and anger in his voice.

"Those damned beasts are using our brothers as shields!" another yelled, understanding dawning too late as he saw the demons rushing towards Michael with the struggling angels in their grip.

On the other hand, the more experienced angels, recognizing the brutal efficiency of the demons' plan, voiced their disgust and strategic recognition. "They're going to burn our own to get to him! Those ruthless bastards!" one veteran angel shouted, his voice filled with revulsion.

"They're not just beasts; they're bloody tacticians! Watch out, they're using the angels to shield from the flames, then they'll swarm him!" another explained, trying to organize a response amidst the chaos.

The scene was grim as the demons approached Michael, the captured angels held in front as a barrier against the dark flames, planning to use the momentary distraction of the burning angels to overwhelm the Dark Lord.

Even Michael was taken aback by the cunning tactics displayed by the reanimated demon corpses. He hadn't expected such strategic depth from them, and it seemed almost a waste to simply kill them off. Considering the potential they represented, Michael quickly decided on a new course of action: subdue the demons and find a way to wrest control of the demon army for himself. With Andohr causing chaos in the realm of gods and the mortal realm submerged in darkness, Michael knew he needed every ounce of power he could muster. Adding a demon army to his forces would certainly tilt the scales in his favor.

Michael glanced up at Elder Tarsus's ship, intuitively sensing that the command for the demons was likely coming from there. The ship was big and menacing, exactly the type of place a classic villain would choose to oversee the battle. "Typical bad guy move, sticking out like a sore thumb," Michael muttered to himself, a smirk crossing his face at the cliché.

Rather than unleashing his dark flames, which would undoubtedly harm the captive angels and possibly kill the demons he now sought to control, Michael opted for evasion. As the demons charged at him, using the angels as shields, Michael ducked and weaved with impressive agility. "Not today, you bastards," he growled as he dodged another demon lunging towards him.

As Michael shot toward the sky aiming for Elder Tarsus's ship, the Ganeria, other Skyhall ships in the vicinity opened fire. Volleys of cannonballs flew across the sky, each one aimed directly at him. Michael twisted and turned through the air, his movements sharp and calculated, dodging the incoming projectiles with a dancer's grace.

"Look, he's going for the Ganeria!" shouted an angel from one of the nearby ships, his voice carrying panic and urgency. "Stop him before he reaches Elder Tarsus!"

"He's going after Elder Tarsus!" another angel cried out, urging his comrades to intensify their efforts.

The demons, along with a contingent of Skyhall angels, gave chase, determined not to let Michael reach his target so easily While Michael continued his upward flight, a two-horned demon with powerful wing flaps calculated his trajectory and burst forward with incredible speed, colliding with Michael mid-air. The impact was sudden and forceful, causing Michael to curse in surprise.

"Damn you, demon!" Michael spat out, his surprise morphing into admiration for the demon's capabilities.

The demon tried to seize him with its four muscular arms, but Michael was quick to react. He raised his hand and activated the flamethrower embedded in his palm. Flames roared forth, scorching the demon's skin, which began to melt off, revealing charred flesh that almost immediately started to heal.

Seizing the moment of disruption, Michael grabbed the demon and delivered a powerful punch, sending the demon hurtling down from the sky like a bullet. The demon crashed into the raging dark storms below, near the debris of a recently destroyed ship. As it hit the water, ropes and sail poles from the wreckage coiled around the demon, trapping it and pulling it under. The demon struggled briefly but was quickly submerged, dragged down by the tangled debris.

Activating his X-ray vision, Michael observed from above as the demon beneath the water ceased moving, trapped and effectively neutralized. A sly grin spread across his face as he realized the potential of this new strategy.

"Looks like I've found your Achilles' heel, fellas," Michael murmured to himself, a hint of satisfaction in his voice at discovering a non-lethal way to handle the demons.

A chill ran down his spine as the elf watched Michael cleverly subdue the demon by drowning. "He's figured it out, hasn't he? That the demons revert to their dead state when submerged." He quickly turned to Elder Tarsus and said. However, Elder Tarsus dismissed the elf's concerns with a wave of his hand and focused on the chaos around him. He roared at the minions scurrying about the deck, "He's just one damn god! Keep the pressure on him!"

 "A god nonetheless, and a most dangerous one at that." The elf muttered under his breath, Michael glanced up at the Ganeria, calculating his next move. Instead of heading directly toward Elder Tarsus's flagship, he abruptly changed his trajectory, diving sharply towards a frigate that was firing at him from the sky. With a snicker and a cunning gleam in his eye, he cloaked himself in dark flames, turning into a human missile as he shot through the structure of the frigate.

As he pierced the ship, Michael zigzagged through its interior, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake. The impact of his entry caused initial explosions, which quickly spread as he tore through the ammunition stores and fuel lines. The ship began to break apart, flames engulfing it from the inside out.

"Damn it! He's tearing the ship apart!" shouted an angel aboard, trying to maintain balance as the ship shook violently from the internal explosions.

"What the hell! Man the cannons, shoot him down!" another panicked angel yelled, but his commands were cut short as another explosion rocked the ship, throwing him against the wall. From other Skyhall ships, the onlooking angels watched in horror and disbelief. "Holy shit, did you see that? He's fucking unstoppable!"

"He's just ripped through the frigate like it was nothing!" another angel shouted over the roar of the burning ship.

As Michael observed the flaming debris of the destroyed frigate falling toward the ocean, his mind was already calculating the next phase of his plan. It wasn't merely the destruction of the ship that he sought, but the opportunity it presented. Amid the chaos, he noted the ropes, the anchor, and the scattered pieces of wreckage—all potential tools for a greater strategy.

With precision and speed, Michael maneuvered through the battlefield, gathering the necessary components. He used the ship's ropes and anchor, swiftly fashioning a makeshift net. He skillfully ensnared the confused demons as he flew around, using their disorientation to his advantage. One by one, he wrapped them in the heavy ropes, their struggles futile against his relentless tactics.

With the group of demons securely bound by the wreckage, Michael dragged them towards the ocean, his strength evident as he pulled the heavy load. As they reached the water's edge, he released the anchor, watching as it plunged into the depths, dragging the ensnared demons down with it. The water enveloped them, pulling them under.

Floating in the sky, Michael watched the last bubbles of air escape to the surface. He couldn't help but smirk watching his plan coming together perfectly.

"Let's see how well you swim," he muttered, already thinking ahead to when he would retrieve them, revive them using his system, and convert the captured demons into part of his army. n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

"Sleep well for now, my future soldiers,"