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Reincarnated as a Grunt No. 703

[HIATUS] My name is [REDACTED]. I was just a normal, job-seeking guy who had just finished his undergraduate study and was hopeful of becoming a useful member of society. However, the job market in this current economy was quite harsh, and competition was at an all-time high. Thus... I remained unemployed for almost half a year. As usual, I was on a job hunting spree, hoping to finally find or land a job that would hire the poor me. However, fate had other plans for me... and I died, getting run over by a large truck. I thought I was dead, but... I soon woke up inside a test tube, surrounded by white-coated scientists in a dimly lit laboratory. I was confused, as I realized that my body, from head to toe, was covered with some sort of dark material that fit my skin quite tightly, as if I was wearing a skin-tight suit from a superhero comic. But... I wasn’t a superhero. “Good morning, Subject... No... Grunt No. 703.” I was just one of the supervillain's Grunts. Check out my P@treon.com/demonkingakuma

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92 Chs

Getting some Gadgets at the Grunt Armory (20) | Aim at Your Heart

I stared down at the humanoid target board that had appeared at a distance in front of me on the vast, concrete-like field of the shooting range.

The target board was designed with the typical circles marking both the torso and the head, each circle indicating a different scoring zone. Obviously, the closer to the center, the higher the score. The target seemed almost taunting in its stillness, inviting me to test my aim and resolve.

With a deep breath, I focused on the target board, aligning it with the long barrel of my newly acquired (read: borrowed) Zhel Mark-10. Holding it with both hands, the light gray metallic surface of the handgun gleamed slightly under the indoor shooting range lights. The weight of the weapon felt substantial, grounding me in the moment.

Then, my right index finger pulled the trigger.

BANG!