"Sir? Are you... okay?" the pilot stammered.
Inside the base, it was chaos. Alarms blared. Soldiers poured out of bunkers, rifles blazing. They were trained to fight enemy commandos, not ghosts. Not men who absorbed their fire like a sponge absorbs water. Jones didn’t bother taking cover. He didn’t flank. He didn’t use smoke or stealth.
The guards saw it, too.
He just walked.
Instead, his health bar read 100%. It hadn’t moved. Not when the sniper’s round clipped his shoulder. Not when he fell twenty feet from a shattered catwalk. Not even when he stepped on a landmine a hundred meters back. igi unlimited health
The snow crunched under David Jones’s boots like broken glass. He was two hundred meters from the front gate of the Russian missile base, and according to his HUD, he had taken three bullets. The first had grazed his left bicep. The second had smashed into his ceramic chest plate. The third—he winced, remembering—had entered just below his ribs.
A grenade rolled to his feet. He kicked it away. It exploded behind him, shrapnel tearing into his legs. He felt a hot spray of blood. A moment later, the wound knitted itself shut. The health bar didn't flicker. Inside the base, it was chaos
He looked down at his shredded chest, then up at the sergeant. The man’s eyes were wide, his hands shaking. He took a step back, crossing himself.