I Was Connected to Earth’s Black Market From Another World With The Skill [Market]! (WN)

Chapter 230

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Chapter 230 – Thousand Freaks

I was wrong. Or perhaps it was the result of fighting only humans. Because of their humanoid appearance and human-like gestures, I had unconsciously assumed that goblins also acted like humans.

For example, the wounded. The 7.62 x 25mm Tokarev bullet, a small caliber pistol bullet, has excellent penetrating power, but on the other hand, its suppression power or killing power is not so high. It passes right through and does not cause a fatal wound.

If it were a human being, the pain and bleeding would slow him down, and he would eventually die. And even if he did not die, he would call for help. If a soldier in the same unit is seriously wounded, he will call for help to send him back. The wounding or death of a fellow soldier also affects morale and reduces the effectiveness of the remaining troops.

Goblins, however, do not care. They do not care if others are wounded or killed. Even more, they don’t care about their own death.

“Of course not. They are monsters.”

“What are you mumbling about? The next one is coming!”

They are also tough and have a high tolerance for pain and blood loss. If you let them get the better of you, they will all turn into deadly soldiers.

“I’m sorry. I chose the wrong weapon.”

“Huh. It is obvious that the Fuoti Faif is the best ammunition, but that is not the end of it. It’s called combat. You do the best you can with what you have.”

As expected from Myrril-san, her words carry a different weight since she is on the verge of death. No, I fought beside her as well, I’m sure.

“I’ll take care of the one on the left. You take care of the one on the right.”

“Roger that.”

My AKM assault rifle and Myrril’s PPSh-41 submachine gun have several times the range, power, and rate of fire, so I’ll cut down the group on the other side first. The groups that are already approaching will be killed by Myrril’s pistol rounds.

Although the caliber is the same, 7.62mm, the assault rifle rounds have four times the impact energy and twice the warhead weight, so the goblins will be gouged out at the point of impact, and secondary damage will be inflicted on the following group. The number of goblins that could be killed with a single shot was limited, but Myrril’s submachine gun was sure to finish off any group I missed that came near us.

“About time these guys got out of the way.”

I don’t know their rank, age, upbringing, or diet, but even when it comes to goblins, they are not all the same, and there are some differences in their physique and intelligence. The largest group is made up of small goblins who rush forward and kill without thinking, but some of them change their tactics when they see that they are being destroyed. It was a group of relatively large goblins, and one of them was now approaching us, pushing a mobile shield. I had avoided it by using the short-range teleport because of its slow movement speed, but I was beginning to feel depressed as it kept coming toward me.

“Mil, that thing…”

“Umu, Emu Seben Nain, isn’t it?” [T/n: M79.]

I pulled out a single-shot grenade launcher with my ammo belt, and Nojaloli-sensei slung a submachine gun over her shoulder and fired grenade after grenade. Her skill is that of a seasoned warrior.

The grenade that landed behind the goblin, over the moving shield of a former horse-drawn sleigh on a parabolic trajectory, sent up a loud cloud of snow. The rolling, whining goblin horde was stopped by a follow-up pistol shot as it emerged from the barrier.

“The ground is too soft for them to be effective.”

Well, the shattered fragments of the grenades would be absorbed by the snow. Anyway, the biggest threat was gone. The next most annoying thing was a group of individuals who had formed what appeared to be a tight, uncoordinated formation. They seemed to have achieved a good defensive capability by stacking various shields around a sturdy-looking tower-shaped shield; I wonder where they got it from.

“Hmm.”

The grenade goes through the goblin’s feet in a low parabola and is sucked into the center of the phalanx.

The swarm of monsters rolled by the explosion looks at us for a moment and freezes in fear. The distance between us and them, now defenseless with their shields down, is only about thirty meters.

“That’s just the mind of monsters.”

Thirty-five pistol bullets fly from Myrril’s PPSh-41, which has just changed magazines. None of the goblins, now nothing but the remnants of the phalanx, could get back up.

“They wouldn’t stand up to the Demon King and Queen!”

With the relatively intelligent group crushed, the goblins were once again reduced to a frenzied mob. They attacked aimlessly and without coordination, and the pile of corpses kept growing. Some of them tried to shield themselves by holding the corpses in their arms, but they were either shot through the corpses with AKM assault rifle bullets or had their exposed legs shot off with pistol bullets and fell to the ground, only to be crushed.

“I’m almost out of bullets. This will be the last mag.”

“All right, let’s go.”

I returned to the top of the wall with Myrril in my arms. I look down and see about a thousand bloody corpses lying on the snowfield. The remaining goblins were probably about 500 or so. They have been killed without any countermeasures, and as a result, they are in a state of panic, moving from side to side. It was a miracle that this didn’t discourage the goblin horde itself.

“They just don’t give up.”

As I reloaded the empty magazines, I watched the movements of the goblins. They move in droves, screaming in frustration, and some, perhaps unable to bear their hunger, bite into the carcasses of their companions. They look half-human, and it makes me sick.

“It is true. They have nowhere to go. It makes no sense to go back when there is no food to begin with.”

“In the first battle, they ran as fast as they could.”

“That was also a one-time thing. It was probably not for a specific purpose. It is like the outburst of a group of monsters… reflexively following a sudden collective action.”

Is it like a school of small fish moving in unison? It is true that since their numbers have decreased and they have become a scattered small group unit, they no longer act as a whole in a cohesive manner.

“It’s good that there are fewer of them, but from our point of view, it’s annoying that it’s harder to attack them all together, like mowing them down.

“If we go down one more time, we can do the rest from the top of the city walls.”

The PPSh-41, heated by the continuous fire, is left on the city walls, and a spare is taken out of storage. There were seventy guns, so I took a few out and selected the ones that looked to be in the best possible condition. Looking at them closely, I find that there are slight differences in the model and engraving, whether it be the specifications, year of production, or country of manufacture. I don’t know much about them, so I don’t know what kind of variant they are.

“You can choose whatever you want.”

“It doesn’t matter which one. I don’t have any feelings about it. As long as it spits out bullets, I’m fine.”

You don’t like PPSh-41 very much, do you, Myrril-san?

“Don’t get me wrong. It is not a bad gun. It’s quite powerful, the bullet line is straight, it works reliably, it doesn’t wobble, and it’s easy to handle. Is it made in the same country as the AKM and the T-55?”

“Yes, indeed. You have understood it well.”

“We have a similar way of thinking. The way to separate it as a tool is really brilliant. It is good enough to be a lifeline but not a treasure.”

Well, that’s true. I feel that way. It is a product of a socialist country, and it is for business or official use. They are not enough for individuals to buy. For those who like them, I guess that’s part of their charm.

“Now, let’s go.”

This time, I also carry a PPSh-41. One on my shoulder and one on my back with a leather belt. Ten box magazines with thirty-five rounds.

“Oh, Yoshua, the PPSh-41 gets hot to the touch after three mags, so you might want to replace the whole gun.”

“I understand. But, Myrril, are your hands okay?”

“A blacksmith’s hands are not that soft. But yours are not so hard, are they?”

I guess so. I took her advice and put the other one behind my back. It’s a little clumsy and hard to move, but since I’m not running around, it’s not a problem.

I carry Myrril in my arms in a princess carry and teleport down to the ground. Using the goblin’s shield made of abandoned sleigh, I aim and fire at anything that approaches. With the selector in front of the trigger, I switch to a single shot to reduce the number of wasted bullets and take them down steadily.

But it’s hard, this trigger. I could ignore it in full auto, but my finger starts to hurt when I pull it after every shot. It’s like a lever that turns on or off, compared to the guns in the West that aim for a certain amount of feel and delicacy.

“Yoshua, you have to be patient a little longer.”

“I’ll be fine. No problem.”

I guess my face showed that I was in pain, and Myrril-san was worried about me. As she had warned me, by the time I changed the magazine for the third time, not only the barrel but even the trigger was getting hot, so I switched to a spare gun.

“Keep it up. There are less than two hundred left.”

“Roger that.”

The goblins were clearly becoming more agitated as if they understood that they were doomed to extinction. The fact that they still came at us without running away was somewhat pathetic, even for monsters.

“There are less than a hundred left.”

I could hear Myrril-san’s voice from somewhere in the distance. This might be the first time I have killed such a large number of enemies. Even in the Battle of Casemaian, where I faced 30,000 men, I had only pulled the trigger on a few hundred at most.

“It’s hot!”

I was stunned, or I almost dropped the gun when I touched the heat-dissipating cover of the heated barrel. It was hanging from a leather belt, but I couldn’t get a spare out right away. I pulled my Browning Hi-Power from my pocket and fired at the approaching goblins.

“That’s the last of them.”

Myrril, too, had either run out of submachine guns or decided to finish them off with her favorite weapon, an M1911 copy pistol, and shot the goblins in the eyeballs one by one.

“Hmm. After all, this one is the best.”

The snowfield was filled with countless corpses, and she smiled brightly.