Don't Want to Be Ordinary Even Though I'm an Extra Character

I watched him from behind the tree, steadying my ragged breath. The bandit leader stood at the cave's mouth, massive and dangerous, bellowing with rage like a cornered beast. But he didn't charge out—not yet. He was too cautious.

"He knows I'm out here," I murmured under my breath, gripping my wooden staff tightly. Rushing him inside the cave would be suicide. The confined space worked to his advantage. With his sheer strength and that enormous sword, I wouldn't even have a chance to swing.

I scanned the area, my mind racing. Then my eyes landed on my small pouch. A spark of an idea lit up in my head, and a determined smile crept across my face.

"If he won't come out… I'll just have to force him out."

Smoke: My Greatest Weapon

The plan was simple: smoke him out.

I moved quickly, gathering whatever materials I could find—dry leaves, small branches, and even the leftover wood ash in my pouch. The dry leaves would create thick smoke when burned, and the ash would ensure it lingered longer, choking the air and forcing him out of his shelter.

Creeping closer to the cave's entrance, I stayed low, careful not to make a sound. When I was close enough, I built a small pile of my gathered materials at the cave's mouth.

My hands trembled slightly as I pulled out the flint from my bag and struck it against a small rock. The first few strikes failed, but I forced myself to remain calm. Sparks finally flew, landing on the dry leaves. A small flame sputtered to life, catching the leaves and twigs.

Smoke began to rise.

Thick and curling, the smoke slithered into the cave like a venomous snake, slowly spreading inside. I added more leaves and twigs to keep it going. Soon enough, the air around the entrance grew heavy with the acrid stench of burning leaves, and the plumes of smoke poured into the cave.

Coughing erupted from within. Then a shout:

"What the hell?! Smoke?! That bastard is trying to force me out!"

I allowed myself a brief smirk. Exactly.

The coughing became louder, followed by the scraping sound of boots against stone. I kept feeding the fire, ensuring the smoke remained steady. He was trapped in there, his choices narrowing with every second.

"Fine!" he roared, his voice hoarse from the smoke. "I'll rip you apart for this, you little rat!"

Heavy footsteps approached. I moved quickly, retreating into the cover of the nearby trees. He stormed out of the cave, his massive frame cutting through the billowing smoke.

The bandit leader was enormous, his muscles flexing as he carried a greatsword with one hand like it was weightless. His bloodshot eyes darted around the clearing, and his chest heaved with labored breaths, but the rage in his voice hadn't diminished.

"SHOW YOURSELF!" he bellowed, swinging his sword in a wide arc, as though to intimidate an unseen enemy.

This was it—the final confrontation.

I gripped my staff so tightly that my knuckles turned white. My heart pounded in my chest, urging me to act. The smoke might've weakened him, but I couldn't fight him head-on. He'd obliterate me in a single swing.

I stayed low, moving through the underbrush, careful not to step on anything that could give away my position. He was searching, his head snapping side to side, but his vision was still clouded by the smoke.

"Come out, coward!" he growled, stepping further from the cave. His voice echoed with fury, but his movements lacked precision. His rage—and the smoke—were working against him.

Good.

Slowly, I circled around him. Each step was calculated and silent. I waited for his back to face me, the greatsword in his hands making slow arcs through the air.

When the opening came, I lunged.

With all my strength, I swung my staff at the back of his knee.

CRACK!

The impact echoed through the clearing, and he dropped to one knee with a guttural roar of pain. His greatsword slammed into the ground, digging into the dirt, but he didn't lose his grip.

"You—"

Before he could rise, I struck again—this time aiming for his hand gripping the sword. The sharp thud of the staff meeting flesh made him howl, and his grip faltered just enough for the massive weapon to fall from his hand

For a second, time seemed to freeze.

There he was—the bandit leader, on one knee, unarmed, and vulnerable.

Part of me wanted to end it right there. Strike his head. End his threat. Make him pay for everything he'd done—to Old man, to the village, and to everyone he'd terrorized.

But I hesitated.

Would that make me any different from him? Could I carry that weight—the weight of taking a life—no matter how justified it might seem?

He looked up at me, hatred blazing in his bloodshot eyes. "Finish it, you little coward!"

I tightened my grip on the staff, my chest heaving as I battled with myself. But the decision came clearer with every passing second.

"No," I said firmly, stepping back.

Instead of delivering a killing blow, I slammed the staff into his other knee, ensuring he wouldn't be getting up anytime soon. Then I kicked his greatsword further out of reach.

"You're finished," I said, my voice steady despite the chaos in my head.

A Warning for the Future

The surviving bandits were either unconscious or too injured to pose a threat. I tied them up using the remnants of my rope, leaving their leader sitting amidst his defeated men, his knees shattered and his pride obliterated.

Before I left, I turned to him one last time.

"If you even think about coming near that village again…" I jabbed the staff into the dirt for emphasis, "you won't get another chance."

He didn't respond—just glared at me with unyielding hatred. That was fine.

With that, I turned and walked away. My knees nearly gave out with every step, my exhaustion catching up with me. But I kept walking, each step pulling me closer to the next part of my journey.