I'm Not the Protagonist

In the closed city, the man with slightly longer hair walked slowly, taking action from time to time, killing the people hiding in the dark one by one. How long did this process last? One week? A month? Or a year? The concept of time has no meaning at this time. Every minute, every second, someone loses his life, and there are fewer and fewer people in the city. The man stopped and raised his head slightly. The blond and blue-eyed soldiers were leaning against the city wall in groups of three and three. Their chatter and laughter from time to time proved that they were in a very happy mood. The man lowered his head and continued to walk forward, one step, two steps, three steps. The piercing sirens woke up the soldiers, who turned their heads to look. The soldier captain picked up the submachine gun in his hand and fired it on the ground in front of the man. Seeing the man's pause, the chief soldier smiled and patted the shoulder of the soldier beside him. The atmosphere was very cheerful. The man's heart suddenly lit up with a red light, and the next second, a black mecha of the same height covered the man. In his left hand was an electromagnetic pulse pistol commonly used by the military, while his right hand was empty. Heart armor, covering. This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.