Transmigrated As An Extra In The Apocalypse-Chapter 69 - 68: War (3)

The battlefield was chaos incarnate.

The sky overhead burned with the eerie glow of fire and plasma, a sickly haze clinging to the air as gunfire cracked and metal clashed.

The deafening roars of orcs and the shrill screeches of goblins filled my ears, but I had long since learned to drown out the noise.

I pulled the trigger.

A goblin’s head snapped back as a bullet tore through its skull, its small, wiry body crumpling into the dirt.

Before its corpse even hit the ground, I pivoted, swinging my sword in a tight arc.

The blade bit deep into an orc’s chest, its thick armor offering little resistance against the reinforced steel.

It let out a guttural growl, its beady eyes flashing with rage before I yanked my blade free and kicked it back into the horde.

I barely had a second to breathe.

A goblin lunged at me from the side, jagged dagger aimed for my ribs.

My gun shifted in my grip, my fingers already pulling the trigger.

The shot rang out, point-blank.

The creature’s body jerked violently, black blood spraying as it crumpled lifelessly.

They just kept coming.

Orcs with heavy axes, goblins skittering between their legs like rabid animals.

The battlefield was a sea of bodies, an endless tide of snarling creatures, and I was just one awakened standing against the flood.

But I didn’t hesitate.

I couldn’t.

The others were also busy fighting their own horde.

I surged forward, my sword cutting through flesh and armor, my gun spitting death with each precise shot.

My movements were automatic, instinct honed through countless battles.

A goblin tried to climb onto my back, but I slammed my elbow into its face, hearing the sickening crunch of its nose breaking before I twisted my blade into the stomach of another enemy.

My arms burned, my breaths came sharp and ragged, but I didn’t stop.

Because stopping meant dying.

An orc twice my size swung its axe at me, its roar shaking the ground beneath my feet.

I ducked at the last second, feeling the wind from its strike brush against my skin.

I rolled to the side, my gun snapping up, and fired two quick shots into its exposed neck.

The beast staggered, its massive body trembling before it fell forward with a heavy thud.

I straightened, chest heaving.

My suit was splattered with dark blood, the stench of death clinging to me like a second skin.

Around me, the battle raged on, the clash of weapons and screams of the dying blending into a relentless cacophony.

But I wasn’t done yet.

Another wave was coming.

I gripped my sword tighter, the cool metal grounding me as I raised my gun once more.

And then, I charged.

The crack of a sniper rifle split through the air.

I barely had time to react.

Instinct kicked in, my body twisting as I dove to the side.

A bullet whizzed past where my head had been a fraction of a second ago, slamming into the dirt with a sharp burst of dust and debris.

A sniper.

My grip on my gun tightened as I quickly took cover beside a large rock, scanning the battlefield.

The goblins were chaotic creatures, more prone to rushing their enemies with blades and crude weapons, but some of them, like this one, were smarter.

More methodical.

And right now, one of them had me in its sights.

I exhaled slowly, my heartbeat steadying.

My eyes flicked across the ruined structures ahead, searching for the glint of a scope, the faintest hint of movement.

There.

A shadow shifting atop a pile of broken stone.

I didn’t hesitate.

The moment I saw it, I rolled out from cover, gun raised.

My finger hovered over the trigger---

Bang!

Another shot rang out.

I moved fast, ducking low as the bullet grazed my shoulder.

A sharp sting, but nothing fatal.

But it healed in an instant.

My scope locked onto the goblin’s position.

It was hunched behind a pile of rubble, its long, bony fingers gripping the sniper rifle tightly.

I could see its face, twisted, panicked. It had expected me to go down with the first shot.

Now, it realized its mistake.

Its yellow eyes widened in fear.

It scrambled backward, its weapon nearly slipping from its grasp as it tried to flee.

Too late.

I fired.

The bullet struck true.

The goblin’s body jerked violently before it collapsed onto the rocks, motionless.

I remained still for a second, my gun still aimed at its unmoving form.

Then, after a breath, I lowered my weapon.

Another one down.

With a quick glance at the battlefield, I reloaded my rifle and moved forward.

There were still plenty more enemies left to take down.

The air was thick with smoke and gunfire, the battlefield alive with the endless clash of steel and screams.

My focus remained sharp, every movement calculated, every breath measured.

My gun was warm in my grip, my sword still slick with the dark blood of the fallen.

I had no time to rest, there never was.

Then, something shifted. freewёbn૦νeɭ.com

A sharp sensation prickled at the back of my mind.

A presence.

A threat.

My instincts screamed at me.

A bullet.

I turned my head just in time to see it, a streak of death cutting through the air toward me.

But before it could reach me, I felt it, the energy within me stirring.

A familiar sensation coursed through my body, as if the very existence of the bullet was unraveling in my grasp.

And then, it was gone.

Drained.

The bullet never made it.

It simply ceased to be, its existence absorbed.

The goblin sniper who had fired it stiffened, its beady yellow eyes widening in horror as it realized what had happened.

I lifted my gun, steady and precise.

The goblin hesitated, its grip tightening around its weapon as if considering another shot, another attempt.

But it was too late.

I pulled the trigger.

The shot rang out, a single clean strike to the head.

The goblin jerked backward before crumpling lifelessly onto the rocks.

One less threat.

But the moment my shot landed, another came.