A sniper's bullet.
Under the strong warning of his Death Perception, he sprawled and quickly crawled into the complex alleys of the village, hearing footsteps from all directions.
He silently counted in his mind.
In the original carriage, there were seven from Team B on the left and six from Team A on the right. Including himself, there were thirteen people.
Now, thanks to the Second fifth's backstabbing, six from Team B were gone; the team was completely annihilated. Logically, after Side B of the tape finished playing, Side A should start. But now, Side A hadn't even begun, and Huai Shi felt like he was about to be 'played' by Team A.
Luckily, the location isn't far off.
He gestured the direction, lifted his handgun, and picked off the rash fool who peeked out in front. After the target fell, he shot twice more in succession, ejected the magazine to check, and found six bullets left.
Just one for each person... Yeah right, he wasn't any kind of sharpshooter. In this kind of melee, being able to hit even one person with six shots would already be damn good luck.
Maybe he could try a wild spray with five shots. If those five didn't just so happen to kill all six people across the way (with one bullet miraculously going through two), then the last bullet could provide a swift end for himself.
A heroic death, free from disgrace—it sounded almost too romantic...
The approaching footsteps were getting closer. He kicked the ground twice and leaped over the wall, exiting the alley. After so many cycles of death, he had begun to grasp some patterns.
Compared to the malevolent level design in current VR games, a setting where simply memorizing the layout could make things easier seemed almost too kind.
Then, in the yard behind the wall, he once again saw that same pair of terrified eyes.
The stooped woman was still gazing at the sky.
With a vacant look.
She was vainly trying to hide two frail children behind her.
But they were all already dead, lying on the ground, riddled with bullet holes and blood. Dust fell from the wind, covering those vacant eyes.
"Why is it always you guys?" Huai Shi paused for a second, scratched his head, wanted to say something, but just didn't know what to say. Even though he knew this was a recording, even though he knew these were all fake NPCs, he still felt an indescribable sense of shame.
This wasn't a game.
"I'm sorry." Huai Shi hung his head, no longer daring to look into those dust-covered eyes.
He said, "I'll be out right away."
He burst through the main door, charging onto the road, and shoved his gun barrel into an opponent's eye socket, "Die—!"
BLAM!
A mass of Plasma burst from the back of the man's head. He didn't have time to look around. He fled for his life, staggering as he tried to get further away from that yard.
But he just couldn't forget those eyes.
When he started to treat all this as just a game, the many deaths from the records awoke him from his fond dreams. This was not a game. It was a record, a history that had once happened.
A history that had once taken place in some corner of the world.
A trifling massacre and trifling deaths.
They were all already dead.
Those lusterless eyes were gradually covered by dust, buried, forgotten, not even deemed worthy of being remembered...
Huai Shi staggered on, running desperately, weary but pressing forward through the narrow spaces. After kicking open a door, he finally reached his destination.
In the room, the old man curled up in the corner seemed to be frightened, instinctively clutching the object in his arms.
"Let go." Huai Shi leaned against the door frame, panting, and raised his handgun. "Give that to me."
The man muttered something, hesitated momentarily, then let go. Suppressed by Huai Shi, he prostrated himself on the ground.
"Thanks." With labored breath, Huai Shi hoisted the object, staggered back two steps, and turned to leave. But after a couple of steps, he couldn't help but look back and shouted, "Don't worry, I'll save you."
No one responded.
The villagers were probably all long dead.
He couldn't save a single one.
Damn...
Huai Shi rubbed his eyes with his forearm and cursed in a low voice, "Damn…"
Next, he heard the roaring sound of the courtyard gate shattering, as the noise of automatic rifles started up like a torrential downpour, sweeping through every inch of the space.
Huai Shi huddled behind a millstone, listening to the sound of debris flying overhead.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself amidst the odor of gunpowder. Then Huai Shi got up, shouldering the RPG, and strived to show his comrades the brightest smile he could muster.
"Hey, how are you guys?"
Then, he pulled the trigger.
"—Justice, rains from above!!!"
BOOM!
Amidst the violent shaking and shock, flames and thick smoke soared into the sky. Boiling blood mist spread out, dancing with the dust. It eventually turned into a fine rain, settling on the walls, the ground, and on Huai Shi himself.
Silence returned.
Huai Shi dropped the launcher, crossed through the wrecked courtyard and streets, and walked toward the center of the village.
He walked towards the man who was waiting there.
Seemingly shocked by the outcome, the instructor standing there with his hands behind his back froze for a moment. Soon, he raised his hand, took off the sunglasses on his face, and tossed them to the ground.
"Even though they are mere prototypes, for them to be utterly annihilated here... I didn't expect you to be so tough, 7794." Those cold gray eyes stared at Huai Shi's face. Then, the instructor gestured to the young man with a curl of his finger. "It seems I need to give you another lesson."
"The feeling is mutual." Huai Shi twisted his neck, discarded his gun holster and the Quick Reaction Vest that was getting in his way, and drew his military knife with one hand, assuming a stance utterly different from his opponent's.
Different from the Rome Military's combat techniques, it was a classic posture from Dongxia, so classic that even the instructor almost failed to recognize the beginner's form.
"Come." Huai Shi grinned. "Watch me use military boxing to smash you to pieces."
"Good." The instructor seemed to understand something, his complexion gradually darkening as his bones rubbed together, creating a deep sound. "Good, 7794.
"I promise, before you die, you'll understand—what Hell is like!"