Thud.
Thud.
The sound was consistent.
A continuous barrage of shots.
The shrill cries of crows echoed once more.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Whoosh.
"Ha...."
Anna was sweating.
Missed.
At some point, shooting down all the targets seemed like a given.
But when they turned into a flock of crows, the difficulty clearly increased.
Initially, the crows flew smoothly in their trajectories, not much different from the targets.
But just one.
Just shooting down one.
The other crows would sense the danger signal and immediately scatter wildly.
The black wings and countless feathers flew in all directions.
From that moment, the crows' paths became incredibly unpredictable.
Currently, at best, she could shoot down 4-5 crows.Earlier, I counted twelve crows.
Thud.
Thud.
She thought.
But her hands kept firing without stopping.
