"Heavens... is that a fucking missile?!"
This world, despite its sleek modern look, was actually a fantasy realm where both magic and technology coexisted.
Naturally, Gabriel had seen a lot thanks to his past life and knew there was still more to unveil in this wide, unpredictable world.
But of all things, one thing he never expected to see was a missile heading straight toward their vehicle at the speed of light—in the middle of a road filled with natives and otherworlders.
For the first time in a while, despite his Undead Heart skill keeping him calm in life-threatening moments, his expression darkened. A trace of shock flashed through his eyes.
Damian gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on the wheel. His eyes bulged, veins standing out on his neck. He was frozen—paralyzed by fear—as death stared him right in the face.
Gabriel knew that if he allowed the missile to hit them at his current level, with only 100 HP, he would be critically injured.
Worse, there was a chance it would kill him outright.
Fortunately, despite the low level of his Undead Heart skill, it activated right on time, clearing the haze in his mind.
"Guard’s Robe, Iron Skin! Grizzlenaught!" Gabriel roared, activating the protective barrier from his Guard’s Robe treasure and his Iron Skin skill simultaneously.
At that exact moment, Grizzlenaught emerged from the vehicle’s front, its electric-blue gaze flashing with pure hate and defiance at the incoming missile.
Gabriel seized the wheel, jerking it sharply to the side while pulling Damian toward him with his free hand.
The missile drew closer.
Grizzlenaught tried to block it, but the explosion obliterated the summon instantly—as if it were paper. Gabriel had never expected it to hold; he only needed it to buy a few precious seconds.
Then it struck.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
A blinding flash illuminated the night sky for miles, drawing the attention of everyone in the city.
The King’s Guard and the Adventurer Guild immediately rushed to the scene, abandoning whatever they were doing. A missile explosion in the middle of the city with civilians around wasn’t something anyone could ignore.
Thanks to Gabriel’s quick reaction, they had veered slightly off the missile’s path, but they were still dangerously close to the blast radius—and the energy radiating from it felt different.
The shockwave threw vehicles, debris, and people alike. The ground cracked open, forming a massive crater in the middle of the street.
For a moment, everything was hazy. Only the coughs of survivors could be heard. A few players had been nearby—fortunately, their resurrection systems would save them—but the natives weren’t so lucky. Many were severely injured or worse.
Gabriel’s barrier flickered, then shattered. He had managed to shield Damian with his own body. Even with his high perception stats, it was difficult to see through the thick dust cloud.
"Fuck, fuck! Who fires a missile in the middle of the road?!" Damian’s voice came between coughs.
Relief flickered in Gabriel’s eyes when he saw that Damian was still alive.
> [Ding! Your health points are dangerously low.]
A red notification flashed across his retina. He dismissed it instantly and focused on finding Damian.
The radiation from the blast was brutal. It hadn’t killed him, but his ribs felt crushed, and bruises lined his arms and face.
He stumbled through the dust and grabbed what looked like a shoulder—only to realize it was just an arm.
His mind went blank for half a second before he cursed under his breath.
"Damian!" he shouted.
A faint groan answered from under a bent car frame. Gabriel braced himself, lifted the wreckage, and dragged Damian out by the collar. The man’s eyes were glassy; his lips trembled but no sound came out.
Blood gushed from his left arm—what was left of it. The limb had been torn away below the elbow, leaving a mangled mess of bone and flesh.
Gabriel’s jaw tightened. He reached into his inventory, pulled out a healing potion—a spare one from his storage—popped the cork with his teeth, and pressed it against Damian’s lips.
"Drink."
Damian coughed but swallowed. The bleeding slowed, then stopped. The skin sealed just enough to keep him stable.
The arm didn’t grow back.
Gabriel already knew it wouldn’t. Healing potions had limits—they closed wounds and stabilized life, but they couldn’t recreate lost limbs. For regeneration, you needed rarer, divine-grade resources.
He tore a strip from his own cloak and wrapped the stump tightly, checking Damian’s pulse. It was weak but steady.
For now, he didn’t care who fired the missile or why. His only goal was to get his business partner—someone he had sworn to protect—to safety.
Yes, he could be ruthless, even cruel, but to those who earned his loyalty, Gabriel would walk through fire.
Sirens blared in the distance. Shouts of survivors echoed all around.
He hoisted Damian to his feet, half-carrying him away from the burning wreckage. The road was torn apart like paper. Cars lay overturned. Civilians screamed. Some recorded the chaos on their devices.
The last sparks from Grizzlenaught faded into the air. The summon was gone—it had bought them barely two seconds, but that had been enough.
A new wave of guards flooded the area—King’s Guard acting as city police, and Adventurer Guild members providing emergency aid. Medics sprinted in with stretchers, rushing to the wounded.
Scarlet arrived with the first squad of guild officers. She scanned the crater, the burning vehicles, the smoke, and then her gaze landed on Gabriel. She didn’t even look surprised.
"Figures," she muttered. "You have a real talent for finding trouble."
Medics reached them. One froze at the sight of Damian’s arm, then quickly got to work, signaling for support.
Gabriel watched silently as they lifted Damian onto a stretcher. When they took him away, he turned to Scarlet.
"Who was it? Was it the Graves?" he asked, his tone sharp.
She didn’t answer right away. Her eyes followed the crater’s rim, the melted casing, the faint shimmer of lingering mana in the air.
"It wasn’t the Graves," she said finally, voice flat. "They haven’t even found out about your little ’murder’ yet."
"Then who?"
Scarlet’s gaze hardened. "Someone else."