The Extra becomes the Villain's Bodyguard-Chapter 33: "THAT’S AN ORDER, DAMNIT!"

The engine of Neville’s armored truck roared as the driver slammed the pedal down, tires kicking up dirt and shredded grass. The fissure’s sickly glow shrank in the rearview, but the horde didn’t.

"Keep firing!" The commander barked, leaning out the passenger window, his M4 spitting rounds into the swarm of scrawny, green-skinned creatures still chasing them. Their hollow-boned bodies crumpled under gunfire, but for every one that dropped, three more scrambled over its corpse.

Javier’s truck veered alongside them, his mounted .50 cal thundering, cutting a bloody path through the creatures. Brass casings rained onto the road as the gunner yelled, "Eat shit, freaks!"

Then the ground trembled.

Neville’s stomach lurched as something massive emerged from the fissure’s glow.

The brute stood at least six-foot-five, its muscle-corded frame draped in a mangled pelt—human or animal, it was impossible to tell. A tooth-studded leg bracelet clattered as it moved, its shield—a slab of rusted metal strapped with bone—raised like a gladiator’s. Behind it, more figures emerged: lanky creatures with crude bows, their eyes gleaming sadistically.

"Contact rear! Big one!" Neville radioed, but before the words finished, **an arrow whistled past his ear.

Thunk.

The soldier manning the .50 cal in Javier’s truck gurgled, an arrow buried deep in his eye socket. He toppled backward, fingers twitching.

"SNIPERS! MOVE, MOVE—"

Mages did a chant in a weird language and a basketball sized fireball appeared.

"What the fuck—?!"

The fireball slammed into the rear truck’s fuel tank.

BOOM

The explosion sent shrapnel and body parts flying. The truck flipped, rolling twice before skidding to a stop, its undercarriage spewing flames. Soldiers screamed inside, trapped.

"Go back!" a female soldier shouted at the driver.

"Are you insane?!" the driver shot back, swerving to avoid a fallen log. "We’re not dying for a cooked crew!"

Javier shouted..."Focus fire on the big one!"

Neville leaned out again, rifle up...

but the brute was ready.

CLANG

Their rounds pinged harmlessly off the shield, the metal barely dented. The brute snorted, then heaved the shield like a discus.

It spun through the air, shearing off the side mirror of Neville’s truck before crashing into the hood of another. Metal crumpled; the vehicle fishtailed wildly, but the driver wrestled control, swearing.

Then the archers struck again.

This time, their arrows weren’t just aimed at flesh.

They hit the tires.

PSSSHHH—

Neville’s truck lurched as the front right tire blew. The driver cursed, fighting the wheel as they veered toward a ditch.

"Bastards are smart!" Javier radioed. "Fall back to—"

Darkness swallowed them.

One second, the road was there. The next, an inky black fog erupted from the fissure, rolling over the convoy like a tidal wave. Neville’s vision vanished. The driver slammed the brakes, but it was too late... the truck skidded blindly**, tires locking up.

Soldiers were panicking. He couldn’t see and their torches only showed what was on their faces not the surroundings.

A guttural incantation echoed, and the archers’ arrows glowed faintly red. They loosed.

**THWIP. THWIP. THWIP.**

This time, they pierced the soldier’s armor.

A soldier in the back of Javier’s truck shrieked as an arrow punched through his calf, pinning him to the floor. Another sank into the engine block of Neville’s vehicle, smoke curling from the wound.

The darkness began to thin... just enough to see the brute leap.

It cleared twenty feet in a single bound, landing on the roof of a lagging Humvee. The metal dented under its weight. Its hands raked through the canvas top, and a soldier was yanked out and flung away.

"Javier! Light it up!" Neville roared.

Javier didn’t hesitate. He unloaded his entire mag into the brute’s back or at least tried to the beast only got shot at a couple of times before leaping away.

************************************************************

The battlefield was silent now, the last of the goblins slain, their twisted bodies littering the ground. Ophelia crouched beside one of the fallen creatures, her fingers brushing against the dark, almost luminous blood seeping from its wounds. The liquid exuded a faint aura, a telltale sign of mana.

Her brow furrowed.

This shouldn’t be happening.

In her past life, weak monsters like goblins didn’t possess blood attributed to mana. At most, they formed small, nearly inert mana stones... useless unless refined in bulk. But these creatures... their very essence was leaking energy.

She stood, surveying the carnage. The fissure in the distance. Every wave that emerged had been stronger than the last. More aggressive. More intelligent.

The more we kill... the worse it gets.

A cold realization settled in her chest. The fissure wasn’t just spewing out random monsters. The mana from the slain goblins wasn’t dissipating; it was being used to saturate the environment, fueling the emergence of deadlier variants.

But how?

In her past life, during the Blackout, she hadn’t fought. She had hidden, survived. Had this phenomenon always existed? Or was this because this world lacked mana... causing even the weakest monsters to appear saturated with it?

She was genuinely intrigued.

I’ll find out later.

If her theory was right, then slaughtering the goblins mindlessly would only escalate the threat so the area with many slaughtered goblins the more dangerous that area would be. They needed another approach. Containment? Suppression? Or—

A low growl echoed from the fissure.

Ophelia’s head snapped up.

The next wave was coming.

but she looked at her watch...

6 minutes before the system arrives.

********************************************************************

Then the horde closed in. Luckily more weren’t pouring out.

Goblins with jagged blades. Archers with arrows nocked. Mages with big staves. And towering above them all, the Brute—its scarred hide glistening, slightly bleeding.

Neville raised his secondary weapon.

The soldiers followed suit; barrels trained on the monsters.

A tense silence stretched.

Then the Brute roared.

And the horde parted.

The mages lowered their staves. The archers eased their strings. The Brute stepped forward, its massive fists clenching... then, with deliberate slowness, it picked up its shield into the dirt.

"Oh, you gotta be kidding me," Javier muttered.

The Brute grinned, tusks glinting, and beckoned—not at one soldier...

At all of them.

"It wants us to come at it," one soldier said.

"Then let’s give it what it wants," Neville snarled.

And they opened fire.

Bullets ripped through the air—a storm of lead slamming into the Brute’s shield. But the creature didn’t stagger. Didn’t even flinch. The rounds pinged off it, leaving nothing but shallow scratches.

The Brute laughed—a deep, guttural sound so much so that some soldiers’ legs gave and they fell to the ground in panic.

The gunfire had stopped.

The soldiers’ rifles clicked empty, their barrels smoking. The Brute stood untouched, its hide barely scratched, its chest rising and falling with slow, mocking breaths.

One of the men, Private Hendricks, dropped to his knees, his hands shaking. "I-I can’t... It’s not working... we’re gonna die"

The monsters jeered. The goblins cackled, their jagged teeth glinting. The Brute’s lips curled into a cruel smile as it watched the soldiers’ hope drain away.

It enjoys this, Neville realized. It likes seeing us break.

Then—static.

A radio crackled to life from a fallen soldier’s belt. A frantic voice cut through the noise:

"—repeat, all units, sector 7 is overrun—Monmouth is gone—I repeat, Monmouth has fallen—"

Javier’s face went white.

Monmouth.

His hometown.

Where his girlfriend was.

Where his unborn child was waiting for him.

The radio spat more static before a goblin archer, irritated by the noise, put an arrow through it. The device sparked and died.

But the damage was done.

Javier wasn’t hearing anything else. His hands trembled. His breath came in short, panicked gasps.

The Brute noticed.

It tilted its head, intrigued by this sudden shift. With a grunt, it raised a clawed hand—and the archers drew their bows.

"NO—!" Neville lunged, but it was too late.

THWIP. THWIP. THWIP.

Arrows thudded into flesh. Men screamed, collapsing. In seconds, only Neville and Javier were left standing—because the Brute had ordered it.

It wanted them alive.

Rodriguez was still missing—trapped in the wreckage, maybe dead. The Brute didn’t care. It strode forward, its massive hand closing around Neville’s throat while another goblin yanked Javier by the collar.

They were dragged toward the fissure.

The horde surrounded them, hissing, laughing.

************************

Neville struggled, but the ropes bit into his wrists. Javier was still in shock, muttering under his breath:

"Lena... the baby... no, no, no—"

"Javier!" Neville snapped, voice low and urgent. "Listen to me. We’re getting out of this. I’m getting you home."

Javier’s eyes flickered to him, glassy. Then, slowly, focus returned.

"...Nev." His voice was raw. "If I don’t make it—"

"Stop."

"—you find Lena. You take care of them. Promise me."

Neville’s jaw clenched.

Then—the ropes loosened.

A goblin had tied them poorly.

Neville didn’t hesitate.

In one motion, he yanked free, grabbed the C4 from his vest, primed it, and hurled it into the densest cluster of goblins.

"DOWN!"

BOOM.

The explosion tore through the horde. Goblins screeched, limbs flying. The Brute roared, turning—just as Neville chucked a grenade at its feet.

BANG.

The brute staggered, one knee hitting the dirt.

"GO!" Neville bellowed at Javier. "FIND YOUR FAMILY!"

Javier didn’t move. "I’m not leaving you—!"

"THAT’S AN ORDER, DAMNIT!"

The Brute was already rising, its eyes burning with fury.

Neville didn’t have time.

So he did the only thing he could.

He lunged—tackling the Brute straight into the fissure.

"NEV—!" Javier screamed.

The last thing Neville heard was Javier’s voice.

Then he heard was the fissure snapping shut behind him.

Then—blue light.

A shimmering screen materialized in front of Javier’s face. Words flickered:

[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: ....]