Smith Carrot Upgrade

Chapter 18: Smith Carrot Upgrade

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Inside the factory, the roar of the M4A1 rang out without pause. With each shot, another S.W.A.T. member fell. No matter where they hid or how sturdy their cover, the bullets pierced through everything, landing squarely in their heads.

One S.W.A.T. member clearly saw his teammate get shot in the head and collapse, the corpse at his feet. What he couldn't believe was that the bullet had come from behind a steel plate—at least five centimeters thick.

Bang!

Another gunshot, and the stunned member dropped as well, dying without ever understanding what had happened.

They say cheating feels great in the moment. Russell agreed—it really did. So what if it was the famous S.W.A.T.? Top-tier gear, flawless coordination, excellent tactics—none of it mattered against a cheater. One shot, one kill.

Russell didn't even need to aim. He casually pulled the trigger through obstacles, aiming at the targets' positions, and the bullets automatically corrected their trajectory to land headshots.

Russell silently lamented the waste. The power of the "Character Card: Swart" was too strong. He should have saved it for the Brotherhood's assassins, to show them what a real cheater looked like. The thought flickered past. He had no other cards to use, and without it, he wouldn't survive the day, let alone deal with the Brotherhood.

"Retreat! I repeat, retreat!"

Three S.W.A.T. squads, fifteen men total, had already lost more than half. The squad leader ordered a retreat. He didn't know where the enemy was, only that his men kept dying. If they didn't leave now, they'd be wiped out.

The squad leader tossed smoke bombs. As the thick smoke spread, he led his men in retreat. But a horrifying scene unfolded—the smoke didn't block vision at all. His men kept falling one by one.

At this point, even the strongest mental fortitude couldn't hold back the creeping fear. The last three men beside the squad leader, under the shadow of death, abandoned all orders and wildly fired into the smoke.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Three shots. The three men's heads burst open, and they collapsed stiffly.

Only the squad leader remained. He stopped his futile escape, raised his gun, and sprayed wildly into the smoke. After emptying one magazine, he quickly reloaded, his finger locked on the trigger until the next magazine was empty too.

As the squad leader loaded a third magazine, movement stirred in the smoke. Russell stepped out in full S.W.A.T. gear.

The squad leader silently thanked God. Better you show yourself than keep hiding. He raised his gun and fired at Russell. The bullets slammed into Russell, forcing him back step by step until he retreated into the smoke.

A second later, Russell strode out again!

"What the hell is this monster!?"

The squad leader's nerves, already stretched to the breaking point, snapped. He screamed and emptied his magazine.

A burst of bullets flew out. Due to recoil, only a few hit Russell. He swayed slightly, then kept walking toward the squad leader. Helmet, goggles, mask—he looked like a faceless reaper, spreading crushing fear and darkness.

Click! Click! Click!

The rifle ran dry. The squad leader drew his M1911 pistol and fired all seven rounds. The 11.43mm bullets, which could blow a hole through any target, hit Russell without leaving a mark. He just swayed and stepped right up to the squad leader.

"Monster! Die!"

The squad leader completely lost it. He pulled a grenade, yanked the pin, and hurled it at Russell. If he'd been clear-headed, he wouldn't have done it—too close, he'd be caught in the blast too.

Russell glanced at the 60 seconds left on his timer, then reached out and caught the grenade mid-air. Under the squad leader's horrified gaze, he pressed it against his own face.

Boom!!!

A deafening explosion. Fire roared. The shockwave flung the squad leader into the concrete wall. Shrapnel tore into his abdomen and legs. The bone-deep pain cut through his dazed vision. He hit the ground, howling in agony.

His screams died into terrified silence as a pair of boots stopped in front of him. He looked up and saw Russell, completely unharmed.

"Monster..."

Crack!

With the entire S.W.A.T. squad dead, Russell walked out of the factory gate. He raised the M1911 he'd picked up and reloaded, casually firing at five different spots. The seemingly random shots took out five members of the sniper team. S.W.A.T. was completely annihilated.

Russell opened the armored SWAT vehicle. The radio operator inside had already been taken out while Russell was still in the factory—through walls, with x-ray vision and a headshot. He cleared out the usable gear, grabbed a box of 9mm rounds compatible with the M9, and used grenades to blow up the three armored vehicles.

By the time Russell walked back into the factory, the "Character Card: Swart" timer had run out. The character skin faded, and his appearance returned to normal.

"Only three minutes—what a waste. If it were permanent, I could keep cheating forever. And Swart's cheats aren't even that good. Can't fly or burrow, no infinite ammo. Fighting bio-weapons would be a pain."

Russell pushed open the door to Smith's hiding spot. Suddenly, his heart lurched. He dodged sideways just in time. Quintana had found a fire axe somewhere—rusty, too. The moment the door opened, she swung it down.

Russell had already moved. The axe struck empty air, and Quintana stumbled forward two steps. He rolled his eyes, lifted his foot, and kicked her right in the ass, sending her sprawling face-first.

Quintana scrambled up, dirty and disheveled. She wasn't angry about the kick. Instead, she beamed and threw her arms around him. "Thank God! You're alive! That's wonderful! I kept hearing gunfire, then explosions. I thought you were dead!"

"Yeah, and you almost killed me." Russell glanced warily at the rusty axe on the floor. Damn it. Even if he didn't die from the blow, tetanus would get him.

Quintana's face flushed with embarrassment. "Uh, sorry. I thought whoever opened the door was..."

"Alright. Save the apology for later. It's not safe here. We need to leave now."

Russell helped Smith along. Quintana carried the baby. The four of them climbed into the Ford pickup, and Russell drove away from the danger zone. Out of kindness, he grabbed an M1911 pistol and three magazines for Smith. From now on, if they ran into enemies, Smith would have to fend for himself.

The cards in reserve—only one was useful for combat: "Skill Card: Bullet Time." Russell, who suffered from a severe case of firepower anxiety, was getting nervous. He started thinking about how to stock up.

The Ford merged onto the highway leading to a small town outside the city. That's how American highways were—once you left the city, there were barely any cars. Quintana fell asleep in the back seat, holding the baby. After a half-day of tension, she was exhausted.

Russell was tired too. He wanted to toss the steering wheel and get some sleep. He needed a cigarette to stay awake. Too bad none of the three adults in the car smoked. And the baby definitely didn't.

Russell smacked his lips and muttered, "System, use 'Item Card: Carrot'!"

No cigarettes, but there was a carrot. Russell reached into his pocket and calmly pulled out a carrot. Before he could bring it to his mouth, Smith's nose twitched. His eyes snapped open.

"You're awake?"

Smith didn't say a word. He snatched the carrot from Russell's hand and shoved it into his own mouth.

Russell: "..."

"Not bad. Where'd you buy it?"

Smith polished off the carrot in a few quick bites, smacked his lips, and still looked like he wanted more. Russell wasn't sure if it was his imagination, but that carrot seemed to have a healing effect—otherwise, it was hard to explain why Smith's complexion had suddenly turned so rosy.

Ding!

Host has come into contact with the plot character Smith Carrot Upgrade. Triggering the lottery segment. Two lottery chances obtained. Draw now?

What the hell? He just ate a carrot. He didn't transform or anything. How is that an upgrade?

Russell couldn't figure out why Smith could trigger the lottery segment again. Based on his past experience, each person should only trigger it once.

Or... was the carrot a piece of equipment? Was Smith with a carrot and Smith without a carrot two different people?

Lies. All those rumors were fake. The cover wasn't made with a chill mindset—it was made after I signed the contract, following the prompts from the Writer's Assistant.

This newbie feels cheated... As expected, life has come for this little cat.

Broke author begging for support!