There might be a traitor within this side of the Lowstreet too, knowing the Streetlight Talon after years.
"You answered it quickly. How about the type of Nihil that we are facing?'
"I-I don't know! The Cleaning Mist made it harder for any appraisal, and its behavior is not something that my Office was informed of, but its level threat is definitely Urban Legend nearing Urban Dawn! Heck! Some infrastructure of the Hive has already been turned into a flaming obelisk!"
If that was the case, then the whole northwest of District 67 would disappear from the map if the Streetlight Talon was occupied by the Yugen Extra for a long time. Although, the threat level must've been exaggerated, Or else, the explosion that was removing my apartment front wall would have been a crater and not a two meters hole.
Still, this situation was a huge disadvantage for the Syndicate that was protecting my favorite pub. The fact that the invasion was happening simultaneously with the Cleaning Mist was already bad enough as it was,
Oh well, not like the Streetlight Talon was a weakling of a Syndicate. Some of their members were the equivalent of Grade 4 and Grade 3 Patchers that could solo ten amateur Offices from the Hives.
Before I had the chance to set the scared poor man free, one of the Streetlight Talons was approaching, having a pair of a two meters sword that was strapped to his back and his waist.
"Precarious! The Nihil was merely an Urban Legend Level at most! What makes you think that we are facing an Urban Dawn level threat?"
I freed the Patcher that I kidnapped. He ran away rather hysterically without saying a single word.
"So what type of Nihil that the Streetlight Talon is facing?" I stood up, brushing off the dirt from the chunks of rubble behind me.
"We're facing Type C." A Revenant appeared behind him. Without looking back, the man unsheathed the sword on his waist and swung it at my face. The curve created a wind scar, stretching high before redirecting itself to the floating sheet of flesh as the nearby smoke scurried away. "Hahaha, you didn't move a single inch, I like you!
"The name's Dunkrieg, I couldn't notice your uniform, so what are you?"
Haah, it seems like this person couldn't remember who I was.
"I'm a Patcher, my uniform got blown up by one of the explosions."
"Huh your uniform must be coming from a cheap Workshop if it got damaged that easily. So which Office?"
"Maybutt Office, sir."
"I-I see, that is quite an Office's name." Dunkrieg showed quite an awkward gesture with his hand, as if he wanted to ask further like how he probably never heard about the name but was too preoccupied by time to do so. "Either way, I'll be joining my colleague, you can join the frontline if you're Grade 8 or above."
"Sure, I just got promoted to Grade 8 yesterday," I lied, obviously. "I'll help ya."
"I'll be seeing you there then!"
Dunkrieg leaped from rubble to rubble. In just a second, I lost sight of him within the reddish mist with the numerous fire and explosion.
"I guess this is the case with the rabbit and the turtle? Then again, I'm just a cyclop at this point, and there is no reason for me to even race. I'm not even an animal!"
Instead of going to the frontline immediately, I stayed away from the radius of the moving catastrophe, keeping myself close with the Mist Eaters and their smoke-clearing turbine and the Offices that were specialized in support and information gathering.
Yes, Offices come in many flavors. There were fighting flavor, backer flavor, combat medic flavor, spy flavor, situationally niche flavor—like the Mist Eaters for example, patenting flavor, exploration flavor, and many more!
The taste and the ingredient of the problem to 'patch' within this world is limitless! Though obviously, humane things like hunger and entertainment are not within the list of precarious incidents, so those things didn't count.
It would be great if there were an Office that focused purely on being a hirable personal chef within the Lowstreet, I would hire them everyday. Ich werde zufrieden.
While I did refer to Offices with their flavors, one serving of them didn't merely include only one of the known experiences of the tongue.
One Office could have more than one flavor within them, just like how some of them were sweet and salty like a caramel corn or a monte cristo sandwich.
While having more than one flavor showed a good benefit in monetary income value by the available demand, having too many of them would definitely hurt the focus of the Office when their customers in the sea of marketing were too varied, while the operator became overwhelmed by the research tree of their business.
Nobody likes to personally consume a chocolate parfait being laid on top of a perfectly seared rib-eye steak.
Even if someone was capable of consuming that everyday, they were not human anymore.
"Ten minutes left! The end of the misty world is near!"
"The radius of the frontline has increased tremendously! Be faster in killing the Revenants! We don't want the main body to be revived at this time!"
"You! Which Office do you come from!?"
"I'm from the Maybutt Office, sir."
"Uhm, okay. That is a weird name for an office. Is your Office new?"
"Yes, sir, we just moved into this block a couple of hours ago."
"My condolences, then, for experiencing this sudden disaster the moment you moved...
"Still, you fought pretty well! I think your fighting prowess will shine brilliantly if you join the Decados Office!"
Another Patcher with a striking red suit and tie joined the conversation.
"Don't listen to that pretentious man, Decados is the same new kid on the block that could only swing a stick for a living.
"Join us instead! Tidalki Office have a great insurance and a line of work within this part of the District—"
And another joined.
"Join La Viva Office! Don't give any shit to that old man! Our connection will expose you to a lot of no-scam insurance companies!"
"What do you say, huh? You rock scammer punk! I couldn't even fathom how much of a problem your Office was in District 65!"
"You want to settle our shit right here and now!? Alrighty, then. Give me your best waist-cracking sound, old fart!"
Without alerting these people, I slunk out of their field of perception and went directly to the frontline.
The heat became denser and nauseating the further I went into the center where the Nihil could be seen with its pair of giant purple beads above it.
Within the catastrophic side of the battlefield, numerous Patchers and Streetlight Talon could be perceived fighting with an organized squad of hostile armed people.
They donned a navy-blue themed multi-layered jacket that was fully strapped with multiple heinous devices and deadly palm-long metal needles. Each of them wore a peaked blue cap, bearing a three-bladed golden vortex insignia of Yugen Extra.
The type of weapons they used vary from an experimentally elemental rapier to a corrosion scythe.
"Seems like they have upgraded their weaponry since back then."
Going deeper, I saw Dunkrieg's curved wind-scar forcing a couple Yugen Extras away from the direct battle with the Nihil. Upon closer inspection, this mad man didn't have his gas mask on.
One of his long swords was laid on the floor, shattered with the middle part of the blade being the source of the crack. The light from the fire was glinted by the thick red liquid that was streaming down from his forehead, tainting his stiff brown hair.
His foe must've successfully destroyed his gas mask. But within the frame that I perceived, it seemed like they didn't put a single dent on his iron will.
Even with only one eye, I saw his determination and loyalty.
They were as bright as the shining star.
"Wacky ambush from the infamous Yugen Bullshit!? Not on my watch!
"I have already fought with more than one thousand poison-huggers of your pissy kind before your parents could wipe your asses off those wet-as-hell buttcheeks!" With a fearless frowned grin, Dunkrieg delivered a singular thumbs down to his enemies. "Get the hell out! This Nihil suppression is ain't for pussies!"