Hitman With A Badass System

ραпdα nᴏνɐ| сom The mermon soldiers lifted Michael's limp body with ease and hefted him over their broad shoulders as they made their way out of the dimly lit tavern. The other patrons watched them go, some with relief that the violent altercation was over and others with a sense of foreboding at the sight of the fearsome mermons.

The poor bartender let out a long sigh, his eyes flitting to the broken tables and chairs scattered around the room. He knew it would be a long night of cleaning up and repairs, and he hoped that the mermon soldiers would at least provide some compensation for the damages.

Outside, the soldiers tossed Michael into the back of a carriage with rough hands, not bothering to be gentle with their captive. The carriage itself was a sturdy, well-crafted vehicle with dark wood paneling and ornate carvings. The horses pulling the carriage were equally impressive, with long black manes that whipped in the wind as they galloped toward Aric's place.

As they traveled, Michael kept his eyes closed, pretending to be unconscious. But even with his eyes shut, he could sense the passing images of the garden through the carriage's small windows. The lush greenery and colorful blooms seemed to blur together as they sped by, a stark contrast to the grim situation he found himself in.

The carriage rolled to a stop before an imposing manor nestled among the grand estates of the noble district. The mansion's façade was a sight to behold, with its ornate marble columns that soared high into the sky and it's intricately carved wooden doors that were taller than a grown man. The estate's expansive garden was a stunning sight, with colorful flowers that bloomed in profusion and trimmed hedges that were shaped into intricate designs. The garden was surrounded by a tall, ivy-covered brick wall that provided a sense of privacy and security.

The front entrance of the manor was guarded by two fierce-looking mermons in gleaming armor, standing at attention like statues. As the carriage rolled up to the entrance, the mermon guards saluted and opened the doors for their comrades, who carried Michael out and carried him inside the manor. The interior was just as impressive as the exterior, with high ceilings, intricately carved furniture, and chandeliers that sparkled like diamonds in the light. The floors were made of polished marble, and the walls were adorned with paintings and tapestries depicting myth and legend scenes.

As Michael was carried through the halls of the manor, he couldn't help but marvel at the wealth and power on display. He knew that Aric must be an incredibly influential figure in the city to own such a grand estate. He remained still, still pretending to be unconscious, biding his time until he could make his move.

Tertis's eyes blazed with pure anger as he led them into the manor. One of the maids serving the lord of the manor whispered to another, "What could have happened for them to bring in such a beaten man?"

Another maid, who seemed to know more, replied in hushed tones, "It seems like they're taking him to Lord Aric,"

As Michael was dragged through the halls of the manor, he overheard a conversation between two guards, "I heard Tertis was angry as hell, swearing to make that guy pay for messing with him."

"Good," replied the other guard. "I hope Lord Aric doesn't go too easy on him."

Michael knew he was in deep trouble, but he couldn't help feeling a sense of satisfaction. Everything was going according to his plan, and he couldn't wait to see what would happen next.

The oak door towered over them, with intricate designs carved into its surface, depicting mythical creatures and ancient symbols. The door looked sturdy enough to resist a battering ram, and the two guards standing on either side of it looked equally imposing. Their armor was polished to a gleaming shine, and the edges of their weapons glinted in the light.

Tertis stepped forward, his eyes never leaving the guards. "I need to see my uncle," he said, his voice firm and commanding. The guards shifted slightly as if considering his request but made no move to open the door.

Michael lay still, keeping up the pretense of unconsciousness. His heart raced as he realized that this was the moment he had been waiting for. He tried to control his breathing, willing himself to stay calm and focused.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the guards relented and opened the door. The hinges creaked as the door swung inward, revealing a grand room. The walls were adorned with paintings and ornate decorations, and a large chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow across the space.

As Tertis and Michael were escorted through the room, they caught glimpses of other guards and servants, all dressed in fine livery and looking at them with varying degrees of curiosity and suspicion. The maids whispered amongst themselves, eyeing Michael warily as he was led past them.

Tertis led the way, his footsteps echoing on the polished wooden floor. Michael followed close behind, still playing the part of the unconscious drunk. As they approached another set of doors at the end of the room, Michael felt a surge of anticipation. This was the moment he would finally meet Aric and hopefully, learn some clues about who might have taken Harry.

As Tertis entered the room, Michael followed closely behind, still feigning unconsciousness. The room was sparsely furnished, with only a few bookshelves lining the walls and an enormous oak table in the center, cluttered with piles of scrolls, books, and inkwells.

Behind the table sat Aric, his unique features that marked him as a mermon making him look superior to the other races. His upper body was akin to that of an elf, possessing an ethereal beauty that captivated the hearts and minds of all those who beheld him. His long, flowing hair was the color of the ocean at sunset, and his eyes were the color of the deepest, darkest sea. He wore an elegant robe of shimmering blue silk that seemed to change color with every movement he made. His features were graceful and delicate, yet there was an unmistakable aura of power and authority about him.

Tertis dropped to one knee and bowed his head respectfully. "Uncle, I bring urgent news," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Aric looked up from his scrolls, his gaze sweeping over Tertis and Michael. "I can see that," he said in a gravelly voice, with a hint of disdain. "Who is this man you've brought with you?"

Tertis stood up and began to describe in detail how Michael had attacked them in the tavern and how he had seen the shark head medallion on him. As he spoke, Aric listened attentively, his face revealing no emotion. Tertis carefully recounted the events of the fight, making sure not to reveal too much information that might make Aric think that they had been defeated by an inferior. He wanted Aric to understand that it was Michael who needed to be punished and not them for being overpowered by him.ραпdα `nᴏνɐ| сom

When Tertis finished, there was a moment of silence before Aric spoke.

"You have done well to bring this matter to my attention, Tertis," he said finally. "It seems we must take action to ensure that this medallion does not fall into the wrong hands,"

Aric's advanced cultivation at the Soul Refining stage made him impervious to threats from cultivators at the Body Strengthening stage. He was quick to dismiss his guards upon learning of Michael's presence. Tertis and Michael were left alone in the room with Aric, except for the two imposing guards stationed at the door. As Aric listened intently to Tertis' account of the events, the guards stood at attention, their eyes scanning the room for any signs of danger. These were not ordinary guards but elite warriors at the Fusion stage, trained to defend their mermon lord at all costs.

Aric's sharp gaze locked on Tertis as he demanded, "Where is the medallion you saw?"

Tertis's hands trembled slightly as he fumbled through Michael's pockets and extracted the shark head medallion. He extended it towards Aric with a bowed head, careful not to make eye contact.

Aric snatched the medallion from Tertis's outstretched hand and held it up to the light. As he studied the intricate details of the medallion, his face twisted into a scowl.

The medallion was made of dark, gleaming metal, with sharp, jagged edges that looked as if they could easily draw blood. The shark's head was intricately detailed, with razor-sharp teeth and piercing, malevolent eyes that seemed to follow Aric's every movement.

Aric's fingers traced the grooves of the medallion as if searching for something, his expression growing darker by the second. After a moment of tense silence, he finally spoke.

"I remember this one," he said quietly, more to himself than to anyone else in the room.

Tertis raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You remember it, Uncle?"

Aric nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving the medallion. "Yes, I gave this one to House Gladwrath many years ago," he said. "It was one of my earlier works, and I remember the time and care I put into crafting it." He held the medallion up to the light, studying it from every angle.

Tertis watched in fascination as his uncle examined the medallion with a sense of reverence. To Aric, each of the medallions he crafted was a work of art, a masterpiece of his craft that he had poured his heart and soul into. To others, they might seem like identical pieces of metal, but to Aric, each was unique, and he remembered every detail about them, from the shape of the fins to the gleam of the eyes.

As Aric continued to study the medallion, Tertis couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and respect for his uncle's talents. Aric was a master craftsman, a true artist, and his skill with metal was unparalleled. Tertis felt proud to be related to such a talented individual and knew he had much to learn from his uncle.

Laying there, feigning unconsciousness, he listened intently to every word Aric spoke. His mind was racing with thoughts and suspicions. He knew that Eratos could not have obtained the medallion directly from its creator, and he was certain that someone was pulling Eratos' strings like a puppeteer. Michael realized that this same person was likely behind Harry's kidnapping, and hearing from Aric brought him one step closer to finding the truth.

Although Michael couldn't explain everything logically, his instincts told him that the medallion was a crucial clue that would lead him to Harry. He knew he had to stay alert and find any possible way to follow this lead and uncover the truth. As Aric finished speaking, Michael remained motionless, carefully planning his next move.

Michael was on the verge of revealing his true form when Aric suddenly grabbed his chest and stumbled back onto the oak table, knocking over stacks of scrolls and books. The guards and Tertis were taken aback as they watched Aric cough up blood, his face contorted in pain.

Tertis screamed out, "Uncle!" and rushed towards Aric, but it was too late. Aric's body slumped to the ground, and the light of life had completely faded away from his eyes.

Michael couldn't believe what had just happened. He had never intended for anyone to get hurt, let alone Aric, the creator of the medallion that he was after. The room fell silent except for the sound of Tertis sobbing uncontrollably and the distant hum of waves crashing against the shore. The two guards who had been standing by the door rushed towards Aric's body and examined him, but it was clear that he was gone.

Michael lay on the ground pretending to be unconscious, but he knew that he had to be careful not to draw any attention to himself. However, the guards had different plans. They shifted their focus to Michael, drawing their long swords and taking steps toward him. Their eyes were filled with anger and hatred as if blaming Michael for the sudden death of their master.

As Tertis was holding Aric in his arms and sobbing, Michael could hear the guards approaching him.  Michael was not afraid of the guards who were approaching him with their swords drawn. He knew he could easily overpower them and cause a bloodbath, but he didn't want to escalate the situation further. He wanted to avoid any unnecessary violence and bloodshed. Instead, he slowly rose from the ground, holding his hands up in a peaceful gesture, hoping to defuse the tension. However, the guards didn't seem to be convinced and continued to advance toward him with menacing looks on their faces.

At that moment, Michael found himself at a crossroads: fight his way out or make a swift escape. However, he couldn't shake off the thought that Aric, who had forged the medallion, was somewhat responsible for the chaos that ensued. Although Michael was the Dark Lord and could easily flee the scene, he didn't want to tarnish his reputation. He couldn't risk the possibility of being seen as a coward in the eyes of the Sea Folk, especially when his legacy was on the line. Therefore, he chose to take on everyone who dared to stand in his way, unleashing his full power and leaving a trail of destruction in his wake. Despite his inability to interrogate Aric, Michael saw an opportunity to earn some serious badass points in this situation.

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