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Since I was all alone, I was also the ammunition carrier. An experienced M60 crew could reload the weapon in 10 seconds. I was nowhere near as good, but with {Thief} and the ammo within reach, I could do it in 7 seconds.

With barely a moment's pause, I resumed firing at Point A. Within the short gap, more than twenty zombies were now clawing hysterically at the hole in the ground. Insanity really was repeating the same action and expecting a different result.

The sound of the bullets breaking the sound barrier would normally have made me deaf at this point. But similar to the AR-15, the M24, and the 1887, I called {Fates} on the M60. It now had {Dampen}, {Aim}, {Snipe}, {Withstand}, and {Carry}.

Therefore, in addition to the weapon being silent, even though I was in {Thief}, my accuracy was still amazing. However, despite my earlier eagerness to massacre the bastards, I found myself getting bored.

Knowing that all my shots landed, there was only so much fun to be had in seeing zombie limbs torn and blown away before it was no longer enjoyable.

Blood and guts were already turning Point A into a red canvas. I didn't know how many bodies there were, but a small sea of red liquid was already pooling on the ground.

I only had three ammo boxes with 100 rounds of 7.62 belts for the M60. Less than a second later, my weapon was empty again.

While trying to remove the top cover, my finger accidentally touched the barrel. Because I had been firing for so long, the metal was sizzling hot. The brief contact not only burned my finger, I could have sworn my flesh got cooked as well.

Ignoring the pain, I removed the barrel and replaced it with another. The heat would cause the metal to warp and break. To ensure my shots remained accurate, I preemptively changed barrels.

After loading my last ammunition belt, I resumed shooting.

[My Lord, over 150 zombies have been terminated, the 3rd wave will arrive soon.]

If it weren't for the {Honey Trap} Soulgear, I would have been the one to be swarmed. And even though I was able to kill many zombies, both my vision and the space I could move in would shrink as more bodies fell.

This reality caused the still-moving undead to gain new paths or cover as they approached. Using bodies to morph and change the battlefield was a tactic only the undead could use.

Another nuisance was the blood. Although I had not yet managed to slip on the stuff, it is a known fact that the ground and concrete can only drink so much liquid before it can no longer do so.

Once this limit is reached, the spilled blood will begin to pool, causing the ground to become sticky and slippery. The zombies at Point A found this out the hard way as they started slipping and falling on each other.

Meanwhile, I was just raining lead down on them, not caring if the ones I hit were still moving or not. The undead were incredibly straightforward. They moved when they could and stopped when they couldn't.

After another twenty seconds, the M60 ran out of ammo for the 3rd time. I knew I could either switch weapons, use {Reload} or {Rewind}. Depending on how much of my arsenal I used up, the cost saving ratio of {Reload} or {Rewind} would be different, although it was already stupidly high.

"Yet somehow I still owe 26,000 souls! Fuck my life!"

I got up on my knees and grabbed the AR-15 I had next to me. Just like with the M60, I unleashed death on the zombies at Point A.

Luckily for me, the effects of {Honey Trap} could take up to fifteen minutes to wear off, So the undead remained in place.

I just kept firing round after round, dropping body after body. When the AR-15's magazine was empty, I pressed the magazine release and grabbed a fresh one off the floor.

I inserted it into my gun, gave it a good smack upward, and pulled the charging handle.

It took about 4 seconds. Which was extremely slow by military standards. Most Marines could reload their primary weapon in two seconds.

The key to this speed was the ugly as hell vest they wore. The model and type varied, but all had magazine pouches positioned in front of the chest. Four to six pouches allowed them to quickly replace their spent mag and get back into the fight.

These tactical vests were incredibly intuitive and worked well with the human body. I could have chosen to wear the same thing. But since most of the time I do a New York reload anyway, I decided not to.

"Maybe in the future. After all, I model my look after John Wick, and all he had were belt holsters."

When I ran out of ammo for my AR-15, I picked up the M24 Sniper Weapon System.

Since even blessed rounds would be refreshed by using {Reload}. I decided to test the new rounds I had spent a small fortune on.

I removed the box magazine and loaded the one with the blessed rounds. If these bad boys had the power to kill even tainted undead, what could they do to normal undead? Would they work against demons and monsters?

Such questions could only be answered through experimentation.

"Now let's see if it was money well spent."

I aimed my sniper rifle at the forehead of the first zombie I found. It was an ugly looking guy with half of his face missing. I didn't know how he lived or how he died, but now I had the responsibility of sending him to his final grave forever.