I Was Transmigrated As An Extraordinary Extra-Chapter 196

With the two guards dealt with, I quickly dragged their bodies into a thick, thorny bush bordering the clearing, hoping the darkness and the dense foliage would conceal them until I was long gone. I then stripped one of them of their uniform, the rough fabric itchy against my skin but a necessary disguise. It was a bit too large, but in the dim light, I hoped it isn’t too obvious.

My next targets were the patrols near the borders. I moved stealthily through the shadows, using the terrain to my advantage. I located at least ten more guards, their figures silhouetted against the faint moonlight. I approached them from behind, silent as a ghost, and dispatched them quickly and efficiently, repeating the same method I’d used before. No witnesses, no alarms raised.

With the perimeter clear, I made my way towards the gate. It was a large, reinforced structure, manned by a single guard.

"Show me your I.D.," the Rogue said, his voice gruff, as I approached. He eyed my uniform with a hint of suspicion.

I pulled out the identification card I had bought from the underground market earlier and handed it to him.

"I was sent here requested by Kara Lughen," I said, adopting a slightly weary tone, as if I’d traveled a long distance.

The Rogue examined the ID, then looked back at me, his suspicion deepening. "The new guards were supposed to come tomorrow. How come you’re the only one who’s here?" he asked, his hand resting near the hilt of his weapon.

My voice became authoritative. "I’m here early because I’m a supervisor sent by Sir Neeve Lughen," I replied casually, letting the name of a higher-ranking figure drop into the conversation.

The Rogue’s demeanor shifted slightly at the mention of Sir Neeve. He handed me back my ID, a flicker of deference entering his eyes. "I’m sorry for not recognizing you immediately, ma’am," he said, then, with a creak of hinges, he opened the gate.

But before I could reach the warehouse doors, a sudden, sharp tug at my neck sent me stumbling. A rough vine-like rope, seemingly out of nowhere, encircled my throat from behind and pulled me down with brutal force.

I gasped, the air cut off instantly, and I struggled to breathe, my hands instinctively clawing at the vine-like rope. The uniform I was wearing became a hindrance, restricting my movements.

A voice, close behind me, spoke with chilling calmness. "I’m sorry ma’am," the Rogue’s voice, but it was laced with a sinister smile I couldn’t see, "but I need to knock you down."

Before the darkness could fully claim my vision, my hands shot up, not to claw at my neck in panic, but to grab the vine-like rope that was choking me to death.

With a desperate heave, I pulled myself up, using the rope as leverage, fighting against his downward pull. It was a gamble but it gave me just enough room to maneuver. As I rose, still bound by the neck, I twisted my body and lashed out with my foot, aiming for his hands to let go of the rope.

The sudden shift in my movement caught him off guard. I felt the impact of my kick, a satisfying thud against his body, and for a split second, the tension on the rope lessened. The vine-like rope he was holding slipped in his hand, the surprise throwing off his grip.

He fumbled, a grunt of surprise escaping him, but he was quick. He caught the rope just in time, his grip tightening once more.

I gulped in a large, ragged breath, the sudden rush of air burning my lungs. I took out a few more breaths but it was short-lived. The Rogue, recovering from the shock of my counter-attack, exerted force again. He pulled the rope more forcefully, yanking me forward and drawing me closer to him, the vine-like rope still a suffocating collar around my neck.

"I changed my mind," the Rogue snarled, his earlier sinister smile replaced by a furious contortion of annoyance and rage. His free hand shot out, grabbing a handful of my hair near the roots and yanking my head back forcefully, forcing me to face his enraged eyes. "I’ll just kill you instead."

I spat directly in his face, a hot, defiant glob hitting his cheek. The momentary shock on his face was all I needed. As he flinched back, I simultaneously brought up my hand, the one that held the small, sharp dagger I kept concealed in my sleeve.

I aimed for his arm, the one still holding the vine-rope, intending to sever the connection. He reacted just in time, pushing me away with a furious shove that sent me stumbling back. But I was fast. Even with the push, I managed to slash outwards, the cold steel of my dagger biting into his hand.

A guttural cry of pain erupted from him. I saw a deep gash bloom across the back of his hand, black blood welling up instantly.

"You bitch!" he roared, cradling his injured hand. His eyes glowed with an unnatural redness, and then, with a horrifying fluidity, his arms began to transform. The flesh rippled and twisted, hardening and elongating, becoming thick, whip-like vines. They thrashed in the air for a moment, then shot towards me, multiple tendrils aiming to ensnare and leash me once more.

When he was still transforming, I was already cutting the vines that encircled my neck.

As his vine-arms lashed out, I threw myself to the side, the thick tendrils whistling past where I had been standing moments before.

I scrambled back, the freed vine falling uselessly to the ground. The Rogue’s vine-arms, thick and sinuous, whipped through the air, a terrifying blur of green and brown. They were faster than I anticipated, snapping at me like angry snakes. I dodged left, then right, but I was still getting minor slashes by the vines.

He let out another roar, frustration and pain evident in his voice. He coiled his vine-arms, then launched them outwards in a wide, sweeping arc, attempting to catch me in a net of living ropes.

This was my chance. Instead of retreating further, I charged forward, diving under the sweeping arc of his vines. It was risky, putting me within striking distance, but it was the only way to bypass his main attack.

As I closed the distance, I kept my dagger low, ready to thrust upwards. He was clearly surprised by my move. His eyes widened as I surged towards him, and he tried to retract his vines, but they were still extended outwards, leaving his body exposed for a crucial second.

I lunged, aiming for his chest. He saw it coming, and with a desperate grunt, he twisted his body, trying to shield himself. I felt the impact of my dagger as it bit into his flesh. It wasn’t a clean thrust, deflected by his movement, but it was still a hit.

He cried out again. The vines around me thrashed wildly in response to his injury. I was momentarily tangled in the periphery of their movement, feeling the rough texture of them against my skin. He stumbled back, clutching his chest where I had struck him.

However, I can’t approach him easily again, especially with those vines in such a chaotic state, would be suicide. He’s a whirlwind of living rope, and getting caught in that would be a quick and brutal end.

"Serenade of daggers," I muttered under my breath.

With a flick of my wrist, I threw the dagger. The single dagger seemed to shimmer, to vibrate, and then, it multiplied, hurtling towards the Rogue.

"What the?" The Rogue’s eyes widened in disbelief as the air filled with a sudden blizzard of daggers.

His vine-arms, so effective at close range, were designed for grappling and bludgeoning, not for deflecting a torrent of small, sharp projectiles.

The first wave of daggers struck him. They peppered his body, some bouncing off the thicker vines, but many finding their way in the gaps and softer parts of his plant-form. He cried out in surprise and pain as dozens of tiny wounds opened up.

He thrashed violently, his vine-arms whipping even more erratically in an attempt to swat away the incoming blades. But for every dagger he deflected, another two or three found their mark.

While the multiplied daggers continued their assault, I moved stealthily from his behind. I aimed for the center of his back and plunged the dagger in.

A sickening crunch was heard as he let out a guttural scream, a sound that was cut short as the life drained from him.

You pulled the dagger free from the Rogue’s lifeless form. It came out with a wet, tearing sound, leaving a dark stain on the collapsed vines.

A frustrated sigh escaped my lips. This was only the eleventh Rogue and yet I was already covered in wounds. Seriously, how many more Rogues should I be killing inside next? And why was this abandoned warehouse so goddamn massive?

A thought crossed my mind. ’Should I just create some noise so that every Rogue would come out?’

Nah. I shook my head, the impulse fading as quickly as it arrived. That would be too reckless. If I make a noise, Kara will just run away, go in hiding and probably already dialing for security. No way in hell, I’m repeating this mission again. That will be annoying as hell.