Hitman with a Badass System

At that moment, inside Ganeria, Elder Tarsus barked orders at his minions with a mix of fury and desperation. "Bring out the Celestial Cannon, now!" he roared. The moment the words left his mouth, a chill ran down the spines of those around him. The Celestial Cannon had been used before, during the Dark Lord's battle with Noah. When it fired, their Holy Maiden Rowena, who had discovered the Dark Lord was her brother, sacrificed herself to save him. Many believed she was evaporated in the blast, others thought she might be injured somewhere, but she had not been seen since.

Elder Tarsus had been one of many who branded Rowena a traitor for saving the Dark Lord. This time, though, he knew there was no Rowena to intervene.

"Move your asses and get that fucking cannon here!" Tarsus barked louder, his patience thin and his anger palpable.

The minions, though fearful, quickly agreed and sprang into action. Some dwarves and elves rushed to the communication devices, calling the Skyhall headquarters to teleport the Celestial Cannon to their location.

"Get that damn thing ready, fast!" one dwarf muttered as he worked, his hands trembling slightly.

"Shit, we're really doing this again?" an elf whispered to his companion, avoiding Elder Tarsus's gaze.

"Last time we used this, it all went to hell," another muttered under his breath, glancing nervously at the elder.

"Just fucking hurry up and don't piss him off more," a dwarf grumbled as they coordinated the teleportation.

As they worked frantically, the tension in the air was thick. They all knew the destructive power of the Celestial Cannon and the implications of using it again.

Meanwhile, outside, the storm continued its relentless assault. Lightning bolts struck with deadly power, each one looked like a reaper of death himself. Angels and crew members were hit mid-sentence, their words abruptly cut off by the searing energy.

"Holy shit" an angel started, only to be silenced as a bolt vaporized him on the spot.

"We're gettin' fried ou—" another screamed, before a lightning strike turned him into a charred husk.

On the ships below, the chaos was no less intense. Lightning bolts hit gunpowder barrels, causing massive explosions that ripped vessels apart. Flames roared and masts splintered as ships were blown to pieces and sank into the raging sea.

"The powder's goin—" a sailor's shout ended in a deafening blast as his ship was consumed by fire and debris.

As Michael hovered in the mid air watching the destruction, he couldn't help feeling a rush of thrill and anger. The Skyhall had brought so much pain and suffering to his life; now, he was returning the favor.

"I told you this would happen!" He snickered, amplifying his voice with a dark amusement in his tone.

"The Skyhall shouldn't have fucked with me," Michael continued, his tone turning cold and deadly. "Now I'm going to destroy you, brick by brick."

Inside Ganeria, Elder Tarsus paced back and forth, his frustration boiling over. The command hub was a hive of chaotic activity, filled with the frantic movements of his subordinates and the constant hum of communication devices.

"Where the hell is my Celestial Cannon?" His voice echoed with a mixture of desperation and rage, bouncing off the metallic walls.

"We don't have all fucking day!" His eyes darted around, catching sight of dwarves and halflings rushing to and fro, trying to coordinate with the angels outside who were desperately attempting to rescue survivors from the ongoing battle. The angels, many of them injured and exhausted, struggled to carry their wounded comrades to safety.

"Move faster, damn it! I want that cannon here now!" Tarsus's voice cut through the din, commanding immediate attention. The tension in the room was palpable, a suffocating blanket of fear and urgency.

"Where the fuck is it?" Tarsus kicked a nearby halfling who had tripped over a cable in his fury, sending the poor creature sprawling across the floor. The halfling's pained yelp added to the cacophony of distress.

"I asked for the Celestial Cannon, not excuses!" Tarsus's face was a mask of anger. The elf, who had been watching the scene unfold with growing irritation, finally had enough. "Get it together, Tarsus! We're falling apart here because you're losing your shit!"

Outside, the demons regrouped, having evaded the worst of the lightning strikes. Even those struck by the dark bolts quickly healed, their wounds closing with supernatural speed. Converging on the Dark Lord, they adapted their tactics, learning from their previous failures. This time, they did not rush blindly at him. Instead, they demonstrated cunning and coordination.

A group of demons descended upon the wrecked ships in the air and on the sea, tearing apart the cannons with ease. Using their immense strength and four arms, they fashioned makeshift hand cannons from the ship's artillery. Meanwhile, other demons swooped down to grab heavy gunpowder barrels. With their powerful wings and multiple arms, they maneuvered these massive barrels with terrifying efficiency.

One demon, a towering figure with two horns curving from its head, hefted a barrel high into the air and hurled it at Michael with all its might. The barrel arced through the sky, trailing a thin line of smoke as it fell towards him.

Simultaneously, the demons with hand cannons lit the fuses, their eyes glowing with a malevolent intent. The strength in their arms and their enhanced coordination allowed them to aim these heavy cannons with precision, as if they weighed nothing at all.

Once the demons threw the gunpowder barrels, Michael quickly raised his hand, firing dark lightning bolts at the incoming barrels. The lightning connected, igniting the barrels in mid-air and causing massive explosions. The blasts sent shockwaves across the sky, shaking the nearby airships violently.

"Holy shit, hold on to something!" a crew member shouted, gripping the railing as the ship lurched.

"We're getting tossed around like a fucking toy!" another angel yelled, struggling to maintain balance.

The airships trembled under the force of the explosions, the crews inside scrambling to secure themselves and keep the ships from being blown apart by the concussive waves.

Meanwhile, the demons seized the opportunity to fire their makeshift hand cannons at Michael with deadly accuracy. As he dealt with the exploding barrels, one cannonball struck him directly in the back, sending him tumbling through the air.

"Fuck, that hurt," Michael growled, his voice tinged with pain and anger. The impact was severe, but his APD kicked in, rapidly healing his wounds. His armor, though dented and scorched, had protected him from the worst of the damage.

Michael stabilized himself mid-air, the dark energy swirling around him as he regained his bearings

The demons, relentless in their assault, kept firing at Michael while flying, their makeshift hand cannons aimed with deadly accuracy. Each cannon fire lit up the sky, the loud booming echoes reverberating across the battlefield. Michael couldn't help but feel a grudging respect for their newfound precision. "Damn, you guys are good," he muttered, dodging another cannonball that whizzed past him, just grazing his shoulder.

From below, the angels shouted encouragement to the demons. "Keep firing! Chase him down and shoot him out of the sky!" one angel yelled, his voice strained but determined.

"Get that fucker! We need to end this!" another angel cried, though deep down, many of them knew that killing the Dark Lord, a god, was near impossible. Still, the anger and desire for revenge fueled their cries, especially those who had lost friends to Michael's wrath.

"Fuck him up! Don't let him get away!" a third angel shouted, his voice filled with both desperation and hope.

As Michael evaded the barrage, the sky was lit up with each cannon fire, the booming sounds creating a cacophony of war. Some of the shots grazed him, sending sparks flying from his armor. But as he was deftly evading the incoming fire and destroying the gunpowder barrels, a sudden, ominous humming sound pierced through the chaotic symphony of battle. He halted his flight abruptly, instantly recognizing the sound. It was the same sound he had heard before, just before the Celestial Cannon appeared during his fight with Noah. The memory of Rowena throwing herself into the beam fired from the cannon flashed vividly in his mind, her sacrifice etched deeply into his consciousness. The familiar noise made him clench his fists in anticipation and anger.

Looking up, Michael saw a massive sword-like ship descending through the dark clouds, its immense size dwarfing even the Ganeria. The ship's presence further darkened the already gloomy battlefield, casting an ominous shadow over everything below. As the colossal vessel settled into position, Michael's eyes locked onto the Celestial Cannon, a powerful weapon shaped like a giant sword. Red lines along the cannon began to glow, indicating it was powering up, the energy charging with a sinister hum.

"Bring it on," he muttered, a fierce resolve in his voice as he prepared to face the devastating weapon once again.