Transmigrated As An Extra In The Apocalypse-Chapter 44 - 43: Dead

The air in the Awakened base buzzed with urgency, a quiet tension weaving through every corner of the room.

I stood among a gathering of Awakened, each of them exuding an aura of strength and authority.

Their weapons gleamed under the fluorescent lights, and their expressions were grim, mirroring the situation we found ourselves in.

"Awakend Amber," one of them, a towering man with a scar running down his left cheek, called out as I lingered near the back.

His voice was low and commanding. "please pay attention, don’t zone out."

I nodded, masking my impatience.

"Of course," I said, feigning attentiveness as they resumed their conversation about strategy, patrol routes, and potential weak points.

The problem was, none of this was new information.

They weren’t saying anything useful, just reiterating what I have already heard.

My fingers tapped against my thigh, my mind racing.

My mind wasn’t at rest, I needed answers of how sky is doing, and where he is.

My gaze drifted to a nearby door.

It led to the computer room, where the base workers processed data, monitored the city, and tracked threats.

If anyone had information on sky and his team, it would be them.

A plan began to form in my head.

My heart thudded, a mix of nerves and determination.

"Excuse me," I muttered, backing away from the group.

No one paid much attention; they were too engrossed in their debate.

I slipped toward the door, my movements careful but unhurried.

Acting suspicious would only draw attention. freewёbn૦νeɭ.com

The door opened easily, and I stepped inside.

The room was dimly lit, the glow of computer screens casting eerie shadows across the walls.

The hum of machinery filled the air, a steady rhythm that seemed to sync with the tension thrumming through the room.

My eyes darted around, taking in the workers in uniform that sat, each one absorbed in their tasks, their eyes fixed on the monitors as they typed furiously or muttered into headsets.

The glow of the screens cast pale light over their faces, highlighting furrowed brows and lips pressed into tight lines.

The air smelled faintly of coffee and overheated circuits.

I kept my steps light, weaving between desks and cables.

The workers were too focused on their tasks to notice me.

I couldn’t just stand here.

Blending in was key, and standing idle wouldn’t help.

I straightened, pulling in a deep breath to steady my nerves.

My gaze landed on a man at a nearby terminal, mid-thirties, scruffy brown hair, a slight hunch to his shoulders as he typed away with quick, precise movements.

I walked over, keeping my pace casual.

"Busy night, huh?" I said, leaning slightly against the edge of his desk.

My tone was light, conversational, like I wasn’t currently trespassing in a high-security room.

He startled, glancing up at me.

His green eyes blinked, confusion flickering across his face.

"Uh, yeah. Busy’s one way to put it," he said, his voice low but steady.

He gave me a once-over, clearly trying to place me.

"Sorry," I added quickly. "Didn’t mean to interrupt. Just... felt like a good moment to take a breather, you know?"

He chuckled dryly, shaking his head as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"A breather. That’s a luxury we don’t get here."

I tilted my head, offering a small, understanding smile.

"Guess not. I’ve heard this place runs on coffee and stress."

He snorted at that, a hint of a smile breaking through.

"You’re not wrong. Feels like we’re always one crisis away from chaos."

I leaned in slightly, nodding toward his screen.

"So, what’s the crisis tonight?"

His expression darkened, and he hesitated before answering.

"Goblins," he muttered, almost as if saying the word made it worse. "Big movement outside the city. Too big."

I let out a low whistle, keeping my face neutral despite the cold dread creeping up my spine.

"That bad?"

"Worse," he said, his fingers resuming their dance across the keyboard.

Lines of code and surveillance feeds flickered on his monitor.

"They’re organized. Too organized for goblins. Someone, or something, is pulling the strings."

"That’s... concerning," I said carefully. "But, I heard it is called the Orc Lord, right, the one that is leading them."

He shrugged, a bitter edge to his laugh.

"Yes, I also heard from some soldiers that it is very powerful and terrifying."

"Yeah" I said.

Then, I leaned a little closer, my voice dropping.

"What do you think we’re dealing with? Honestly."

He paused, his fingers hovering over the keyboard.

His gaze flicked to mine, a hint of hesitation in his eyes.

"Honestly? It’s bad. Real bad. And if we’re not prepared..." He didn’t finish, but the weight of his words hung heavily in the air.

I nodded slowly, straightening.

"Thanks for the insight."

He gave me a small nod, his focus already returning to his screen.

For a moment, I let the silence stretch, watching him work.

I was debating my next move.

My heart was racing, though I kept my face calm, even curious.

If I wanted his help, I needed to play this carefully.

"Um...," I started, lowering my voice just enough to make the moment feel intimate, personal. "Can I ask you for a favor?"

He looked up from his screen, brows furrowing.

"Depends on the favor."

"It’s about tracking someone," I said, keeping my tone steady. "A soldier, part of an outside wall patrol. His name’s Sky. I need to know if he and his team are still alive... or where they are now."

His eyes narrowed slightly, and he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

"That’s classified information," he said firmly. "You know I can’t just hand that over."

I expected resistance, but the finality in his tone made my stomach drop.

Still, I wasn’t about to give up.

"Please," I said, taking a step closer. "I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important."

"Important to you, maybe," he shot back, shaking his head. "But if I get caught doing this, it’s my neck on the line. Do you know how strict they are about accessing patrol data? They don’t mess around."

"I know," I admitted, my voice softening. "I wouldn’t ask if I had any other option. Sky... he’s someone I care about. And if something’s happened to him, if he’s in danger, I need to know."

The worker’s expression faltered for a moment, a flicker of sympathy crossing his face.

He looked back at his monitor, his fingers drumming absently on the desk.

"Look," he said finally, "I get it. But it’s not as simple as you think. I would have to dig into the data. It’s not just risky, it’s downright stupid."

I clenched my fists at my sides, forcing myself to stay composed.

"I’m not asking you to put yourself in danger. I just... I need to know. Please."

He sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You don’t give up, do you?"

"Not when it matters," I said firmly, holding his gaze.

For a long moment, he stared at me, his expression unreadable.

Then, with a groan, he spun back to his keyboard.

"Fine," he muttered. "But if anyone asks, this never happened. Got it?"

"Got it," I said quickly, relief flooding through me.

He typed rapidly, his eyes scanning the screen as lines of code and data flashed by.

I watched in silence, every muscle in my body tense as I waited.

"This is insane," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "You better be worth the trouble, lady."

"I’ll owe you," I said sincerely. "Big time."

He snorted, though the corner of his mouth twitched in what might have been a smile.

"I’ll hold you to that."

His fingers flew across the keyboard, the rhythmic tapping filling the room as I stood there, hands clenched at my sides.

Each second stretched into an eternity, the tension in my chest tightening like a noose.

My mind raced, torn between hope and dread.

"Come on," I whispered under my breath, though I wasn’t sure if I was talking to the worker or the universe itself.

He stopped typing suddenly, his eyes narrowing at the screen.

A cold wave of apprehension washed over me as I watched his expression shift from concentration to something heavier, something grim.

"What is it?" My voice came out sharper than I intended, a mix of urgency and fear.

He hesitated, his hand hovering over the mouse.

"I... I’m not getting anything," he said slowly, almost as if he didn’t want to say it out loud.

I stepped closer, leaning over the desk to peer at the screen.

It was a sea of static dots and blank spaces, with no sign of Sky or his team.

My heart sank.

"No connection?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

He shook his head.

"Nothing. Their last ping was hours ago, but now... it’s just dead silence. That usually means..."

"Don’t say it," I snapped, surprising both of us.

I took a shaky breath, trying to steady myself.

"There could be another reason, right? Maybe their comms are just malfunctioning. Maybe-"

"Maybe," he interrupted gently, turning to look at me.

His expression was softer now, almost pitying.

"But you know how it is out there. No signal usually means... they didn’t make it."

The words hit me like a physical blow.

I stumbled back a step, my vision blurring as my mind struggled to process what he was saying.

"No," I muttered, shaking my head. "No, you’re wrong. He’s not... They’re not..."

"I’m sorry," the worker said, his tone genuine but firm. "I really am."

I couldn’t stay there.

The walls of the room felt like they were closing in, the hum of the monitors growing louder, suffocating me.

Without another word, I turned and walked out, each step feeling heavier than the last.

The base was bustling with activity, awakeneds rushing past, but it all felt distant, like I was watching through a foggy window.

My legs carried me automatically, though I wasn’t sure where I was going.

My mind was a storm of emotions.

Anger.

Sorrow.

All colliding and leaving me hollow.

By the time I reached the edge of the base, the sky had turned a dull gray, the sun hidden behind thick clouds.

I stopped, staring out at the horizon, the vast expanse of the wilderness where Sky had disappeared.

A sharp ache clawed at my chest, and before I could stop it, tears blurred my vision.

I pressed my fist against my mouth, trying to stifle the sob that threatened to escape.

"He can’t be gone," I whispered to myself, the words trembling with desperation. "He can’t... Sky won’t just give up like that,"

But no matter how much I repeated it, the emptiness in my chest remained.

Sky, the stubborn idiot who had always been in my life and heart, was gone.

And there was nothing I could do about it.

Wiping my tears angrily, I turned back toward the base.

If this world had taught me anything, it was that grief couldn’t stop me.

I couldn’t afford to break down, not when there were still people depending on me.

But as I walked away, a quiet, unshakable vow formed in my mind.

If Sky truly was gone, then whatever took him would pay.