God-Tier Extraction Talent: Reincarnated in a Game-like World! Chapter 508: The confidence of a Dead Man

Though lacking the White Phantom mask, the blindfolded figure had pinpointed him via the scent his summon had trailed previously. This single detail warned Gabriel that the man posed greater danger than typical assassins dispatched by the Black Star Clan.

A brief flash of irritation crossed Gabriel’s features. He loathed finding himself trapped mere moments after fleeing one fiend, only to confront another.

The initial Black Star operative scanned Gabriel from head to toe, a taunting grin gradually forming on his lips. He crossed his arms and shook his head once, evidently delighted by the spectacle before him.

"So it really is you," he declared. "Even without that White Phantom mask, you got spotted in the end. We barely lifted a finger. You basically delivered yourself straight to us."

He tsked his tongue and glanced up at the castle looming overhead.

"All that stealthy creeping, all that racket, yet you plummeted here nearly lifeless. Fine assassin’s effort, wouldn’t you say? Spare us effort, exhaust the prey, and serve him up."

Gabriel held his response. Black Star operatives should have sparked caution, yet they only fueled his frustration more.

Blood pooled around his form, yet his gaze remained firm.

Deliberately, Gabriel reviewed his status.

Health points now lingered in the low hundreds, down from the seven hundreds not long before. The king’s oppressive force, shattered bones, and castle plunge had ravaged most of it overnight.

"Tch," he grumbled.

That figure grated on him. He had entered the castle with vitality sufficient to clash against mighty foes if required. Now, a quiet menace and single drop had almost shredded him to nothing. That reality soured his disposition deeply. His temper soured badly.

He stayed prone, keeping his breaths ragged.

To observers, he appeared done for. Crimson soaked his garments. One limb twisted unnaturally. His limbs hadn’t mended completely. To those with faint hearts, he resembled someone teetering on death’s edge.

The lead Black Star operative shared that view.

He interpreted Gabriel’s quiet as defeat, a blunder that doomed him utterly.

Advancing with laxer stance, one palm dangled idly. Prior wariness had faded, his respiration easing noticeably.

"What now?" he mocked. "Gonna keep resisting? You can hardly rise."

Gabriel fixed his stare on him without a word.

That muteness drew a scoff from the foe. "Behold you, White Phantom, chased across the city, reduced to a mangled mutt beneath the mound. I anticipated better."

He advanced once more.

Such error proved deadly.

Gabriel surged without delay.

The burst came abrupt and savage. His frame rocketed from the earth with power the foe never foresaw in such a state. Wounded or not, Gabriel’s Strength surpassed five hundred, and up close, that gap proved lethal.

His knuckles slammed directly into the Black Star operative’s torso.

BANG!

A gruesome thud echoed.

The foe’s ribcage crumpled beneath the blow, the impact erupting from his spine instants later amid a gush of gore. His form stiffened in place, sneer frozen while horror filled his gaze.

Not even a cry escaped him.

Crimson trickled from his lips as he glanced downward feebly, then toward Gabriel, as though his thoughts refused the reality.

Moments later, his frame slackened.

He perished upright.

Disbelief lingered even in demise.

Gabriel withdrew his gore-smeared limb gradually, his own breaths growing labored briefly. Fresh blood coated his palm, blended with his own, and his stance wavered once before he steadied it.

Opposite him, the blindfolded figure showed no response, nor charged in fury.

His head tilted faintly, as though scrutinizing Gabriel top to bottom despite the covering. The mangled limb. The hunched bearing. The gore all around. Persisting on his feet amid wounds that would fell others. He registered it all.

"Interesting," the figure murmured softly.

Gabriel regarded him with icy eyes.

The blindfolded one shifted his focus to his fallen ally’s body, then returned to Gabriel.

"I will not make the same mistake," he stated, lifting a hand.

A arcane ring materialized at his flank, birthing a shadowy hound with razor fangs and fiery gaze. Another ring bloomed opposite, unleashing a massive snake, its girth and length ample to squeeze a man fatally.

Neither creature lunged at once.

They merely eyed Gabriel, poised in wait.

Gabriel’s limbs quivered once beneath his burden. Sight dimmed further, and briefly, collapse seemed imminent. Still, a subtle smirk crept across his bloodied visage.

The blindfolded man jolted at that grin.

"You should have run," Gabriel rasped. "The instant your partner fell, you should have fled."

A faint crease formed on the summoner’s forehead. His poise cracked for the first time.

Though barely noticeable and simple to ignore, the shift existed. One teetering on the edge of death shouldn’t utter words with such strength.

...as though certain of emerging from this unscathed.

Not uttering another syllable, the blindfolded man clicked his fingers.

Two fresh circles materialized.

A new hound dropped close to the earth, drool dangling from its jaws. At its side, a second serpent took form—somewhat tinier than the initial one, yet massive enough to endanger.

Suddenly, the atmosphere turned dense as the summoned creatures directed their lethal auras toward Gabriel.

The summoner nodded faintly and spoke with composure,

"Now it is fair."

...

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