Get Skills and All Missions Completed...!!!
The afternoon sky had long faded into night.
Hours had passed since Gabriel had hacked into the zombies' minds, forcing them to tear each other apart like malfunctioning, uncontrolled puppets.
Now, on the open rooftop of a café, Gabriel lay unconscious.
In his left hand, he clutched an empty bottle of whiskey—its alcohol content still under 50%, yet enough to utterly devastate Gabriel's instant-drunk constitution.
His right hand still gripped the Silver Grave Keeper shovel, its sharp blade coated with thick, partially dried blood.
Even his clothes—from the black jacket to his fur-lined scarf—were splattered with blood and fragments of zombie filth.
It seemed that, while controlling the zombies and finishing off the rest himself, Gabriel had somehow stumbled upon some whiskey… and, as one might expect, the remainder had gone the way of dark history best left unexplained.
But the drink wasn't the most striking thing about the scene.
Around Gabriel lay the scattered bodies of zombies—choked, crushed, torn apart—their backs shattered, skulls smashed, and pools of blood spreading across the rooftop, soaking his clothes.
Meanwhile, down on the streets below, the remaining zombies swarmed like dry leaves caught in the wind, their necks and heads torn from brutal bites.
Blood splattered in chaotic patterns, forming a grotesque, horror-like canvas.
Soon, from behind the black bangs that covered both his eyes, Gabriel's eyelids twitched. Slowly, his eyes opened—blurred and heavy.
He let out a soft groan before sitting up, one hand reflexively rubbing his stomach, which ached vaguely and painfully.
The Silver Grave Keeper shovel and the empty whiskey bottle slipped from his grasp, clattering lightly against the rooftop floor.
Having just regained consciousness, most of Ash The Watcher's persona shattered entirely—leaving behind the truer, more human and honest version of Gabriel.
"What… happened," he murmured softly. "Why… does my stomach hurt so much?"
He lowered his gaze, staring at the floor littered with blood stains and bits of zombie filth. Then he noticed the empty whiskey bottle.
Faint memories of the zombie massacre flickered back, slowly but brutally in his mind.
How he had unleashed Gigan head-on—relentlessly, uncontrollably—forcing those eyes to work until they burned repeatedly.
How he poured Healing Potion into his eyes every time the searing sensation blurred his vision… until the bottle was left with just ten milliliters.
Then a hazy image surfaced of him entering a bar, spotting the whiskey on a table, drinking it, and letting himself spiral further out of control.
Instinctively, Gabriel covered his face with one hand and let out a long, mournful sigh.
"…Damn… I must be drunk!"
He pressed his temples—though strangely, his head didn't hurt at all. Only his stomach was rebelling.
Gabriel clicked his tongue softly. "My alcohol tolerance is abysmal… not because I've ever drunk before."
Another memory surfaced—fainter this time. He had been only fifteen when he found a box of Brandy Cake in the fridge.
The cake, he was told, was a gift from fans for Rian. Gabriel hadn't known—or taken the time to read the box—that it contained alcohol.
That had been the first time he got drunk. And now, as if having learned nothing from that incident, he had downed whiskey again.
But Gabriel quickly shook his head, brushing off the shame and frustration clinging to him.
"Whatever… doesn't matter." He adjusted his breathing, slowly forcing his cold persona back into place.
Then, right before him, several holographic notifications flickered into existence—hovering in the air, demanding his attention.
Gabriel's gaze sharpened instantly.
His stomach still ached, his head did not—but his mind was razor-focused again.
"What is this…?" he murmured, tilting his head slightly to read. "All Main Missions complete!? Does that mean… I killed 1,000 zombies without even realizing it?!"
Gabriel's eyes widened. "Shocked" wasn't the right word—he was nearly ripped out of his own sense of reality.
But his astonishment quickly morphed into a second, deeper shock as his gaze landed on the mission details.
Not 1,000, but 5,000 zombies had fallen to his hands—while he was drunk.
Total system points earned: 25,000 Points.
And more importantly—beyond the points—the results of this unrestrained, frontal massacre had granted him two new Passive Skills.
His chuuni Persona mask collapsed instantly.
Gabriel laughed with delight, almost like a child discovering hidden treasure, before quickly opening his Ability Status Window.
Ding!
________________
Special Ability:
> All-Seeing Eyes of the Gods (Kamigami no Gigan)
Pasif Ability:
> Puppeteer (Lvl, 1)
Description:
Control +50%
Dominance +25%
(Note: This Skill can Level Up)
> Slayer (Lvl, 1)
Description:
Attack Power +25%
Movement Speed +25%
(Note: This Skill can Level Up)
Active Ability:
> none
________________
Gabriel took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, a faint, characteristic smile appeared—an amalgam of confidence and absolute certainty.
"…Hmph. No wonder my body feels so light," he murmured softly.
He rubbed his still-aching stomach and gave a small nod.
The Puppeteer skill flickered through his mind—Control had increased by fifty percent. Gabriel suspected the effect wasn't limited to external targets but also enhanced his self-control.
Evidence of that was clear: even after waking from his drunken state… his head felt perfectly clear, despite the lingering stomach pain.
The Dominance increase of twenty-five percent was also noticeable. Not as dramatic as Control, but enough to make him confident that his mastery over targets affected by Gigan would improve drastically.
"The effect… will need to be tested later," he thought eagerly. "Heh, this is interesting."
Then there was Slayer. Gabriel flexed his wrist, which now felt lighter than before. The stomach pain lingered but was no longer a hindrance.
He chuckled softly, tilting his head slightly. "Fufu… hahaha… this is fascinating. Truly fascinating."
In truth, inside he was screaming with joy like a child who had just received a new toy.
The recent drunkenness had been incredibly annoying, but the outcome—two new passive skills and the completion of all Main Missions—was undeniably advantageous.
Gabriel slowly stood up, reaching for his shovel, and exhaled sharply. He increased Gigan's output just slightly—enough to track the aura of the Survivor Group.
Immediately, Gigan's Geometric Magic Circle appeared before his eyes. Gabriel saw that they were still at Rika's house, safe.
He gave a faint smile. "Seems like my time in this world will only last one more day. And, it seems… I can't stay mad at Shizuka. She's the one who made me dr—"
The shovel in his hand clattered onto the floor, producing a loud noise.
Gabriel's face instantly turned bright red, like a boiled shrimp.
The memory—her kiss, the warmth of her breath, and the lingering taste of alcohol on his tongue and lips—assaulted him mercilessly.
A thin haze suddenly clouded his mind—not from Gigan overheating, but because his brain was overloaded. Gabriel quickly bowed his head, covering his entire face.
"Argh…"
The whimper escaped almost like a stifled groan. His chuuni mask collapsed completely.
Even so, despite possessing powerful skills and absurd adaptability, Gabriel was still a teenage chuuni with zero experience dealing with girls.
He wrestled with himself, trying to calm his uneven breaths.
"Calm… calm down, Ash…" he whispered to himself. "You are the Watcher born from the Primordial Mist… Shizuka just… stole your first kiss… that's all…"
His face grew even redder as he spoke, but slowly he drew a deep, steadying breath.
"Alright… so then, what should I do now?" Gabriel murmured, rubbing his chin, trying to appear composed.
"In the past day…" he continued. "Even though, in truth, I could leave this world anytime I wanted."
Those words were not without reason. Usually, after a Herald completes all Main Missions, they would immediately return to the Infinity Room for Evaluation.
However, Heralds are allowed to choose to stay—at least for one day. Gabriel suspected that, in his drunken stupor, he had unconsciously chosen that option.
A little disappointed, Gabriel let out a short sigh. His mission had ended too quickly.
He hadn't even had the chance to do one of the things he had been looking forward to most…
"…I haven't even had a chance to learn Kendo from Saeko," he complained, his voice dripping with dissatisfaction. "This is annoying."
Gabriel let out a long sigh.
His plan had been abruptly derailed, briefly dampening his mood. But only for a moment.
Several ideas immediately sparked in his mind—quickly and clearly.
First: he would leave a supply of ammunition for Kohta and Takashi.
Second: he would give a proper katana to Saeko.
At the very least, it could serve as a farewell gift for the survivors who had stayed with him.
But before doing anything, Gabriel glanced down at his clothes—now stained with dark blood from the "creatures of darkness," as he called them.
"…Right. At the very least, I should clean myself up first," he murmured, slipping back into his cool demeanor. "Ash cannot walk about with a body tainted by the filth of the underworld."