When the Curtains Waits to Call

There were 50 Heads in this titanic City of 100 District.

100 Districts that were grasping upon 100 Hives, overseen by 50 Heads.

Look at my wordings. Does that ring any bells?

Same thing with what I said about the Offices.

Those Heads were varied with their own distinctive flavors! One was totally different from the other, with minuscule similarity whatsoever.

District 67 was owned by a Head named 'Chrysaetos'.

What was the distinct flavor of the pressed button that the Chrysaetos have?

A Rotte of Doppelsoldners.

"Headlamp 12 has set up the barrier!"

"Are you all sure that a couple of barriers can halt their movement?" I took out the tip of my spear from the lifeless body I stood on. "These Landsknechts were strong enough to wound ten of your elites, we haven't even met with the Rotte of Doppelsoldners."

"A little bit weird, I must say." Gilga casually gave her giant cleaver to Lila, who was already prepared with the maintenance equipment being laid down on the floor with the empty backpack near it. "The Landsknecht rarely sent more than one Rotte to this District. Something must've happened on the other Hive. Probably in District 66, that has made them more cautious in reacting to emergencies."

Now that there was no gas mask, I could see Lila's smiling face as she applied numerous enhancement oil and maintenance procedures on that dangerously big cleaver.

She then noticed me gazing at her.

Lila gave a thumbs up, saying that everything was under her control. I replied with a thumbs up as well.

"That's a very specific thing for you to mention." Toronto looked both confused and serious, which was a funny thing to see, knowing his tight demeanor. "If you're talking about the 'news' that we received yesterday about District 66, then that would've made sense."

"And what is the thing that doesn't make sense right now?" I playfully threw a question to the poker faced Toronto.

"Gilga making a connection about all of this."

"Oy, you want to fight!?"

"Sir Toronto! Headlamps 6, 7, 8 and 10 have retreated!"

The scout that was meddling with a unique radio device suddenly shouted.

"What about 9?" Toronto eyed the scout. His sword was unsheathed, waiting for the unpredictable variable.

"There is no information, and they are not available in their allocated location, sir!"

Immediately after, another scout appeared with heavy wounds in both of his front and the back. The dripping blood was shimmered by the hellish background.

"Headlamp 9 is in combat!" The wounded man shouted with straight posture. "We're requesting backups!"

Without any hesitation, Toronto dashed away from the area. He probably had a hunch about the current whereabouts of the Headlamp 9 in mind.

"Jango! Go get this guy to the Combat Medic at Headlamp 11!" Gilga shouted, with a deep concern in her eyes. "And for the rest of you, what are you waiting for, ey?? Go follow your bloody leader and rescue Headlamp 9, bollocks!"

She probably wanted to sprint immediately, just like Toronto, but she had realized that if there were nobody around to give command in this keypoint.

It might be a self presumption and a mere illusion, but Toronto seemed to be the one preventing the hot headed Gilga to take an overactive decision.

I wonder what was within the old man's eyes for creating a Syndicate instead of an Office if he integrated this much trait of his.

Just like that, the direct group under Toronto followed their leader like a pack of wolves into the flaming red night, leaving only 12 personnel within this area.

Including me.

Gilga deeply sighed. "Now I wonder if sending them was better."

"What do you mean, chief?" Asked the goons under Gilga.

"Do you know why this area is the one that is filled with magic barriers and traps?"

"Is it because this area is directly connected to the site?"

"And what happens if we're directly connected to the site?"

"We will be receiving a lot more guests?"

"And the first one to receive the Doppelsoldner." Gilga put a sideway V-gesture with a bad wink that didn't even connect. "Be proud!"

"Chief! You suck at winking!"

"Don't do that, it's creeping us out!"

Gilga's V-gesture hand turned into a fist. Her face was very-very gentle right now. At least on the outside. "Do you want this instead?"

""No, ma'am!""

Soon enough, the screech was spread to the quarter half of the District, silencing the song that was eerily going at the background. The Nihil then fell down, as it couldn't regenerate with the amount of the concentrated wounds from the mysterious firepower, unknown to many eyes.

One by one, the Barriers that the Streetlight Talon had deployed began to shatter like a fragile glass under the winter. With the fire started to die down, everything began to get covered in cold wind and ashes.

"Tch, they did the suppression faster than expected." Gilga snatched her giant cleaver and took a green vial with a syringe before pumping it down to her neck. "Lila! Lead everyone out of this area!"

"Chief! I thought that we were fighting with you!"

"Not when every single of those monsters is unpreoccupied, facing one or two Rotten is possible, but all of the availables? You all will turn into minced meat instead!"

Lila immediately packed the maintenance equipment to her big backpacks. "Senior Gilga, you are already fatigued with the suppression of the Nihil, let's retreat together!"

"She is right, ma'am." I walked to her, maintaining my demeanor in front of one of the strongest members of Streetlight Talon. "You fought back to back with the Cleaning Mist and the Nihil for one hour and a half. Even with the Healing Shots, I'm sure that I can overwhelm you with just one weapon."

She approached me, leaning her gaze in the same breath as mine. Our height was almost the same, but she was definitely taller than me.

"I couldn't clearly see your point, Faust. I heard that you haven't even done a single enhancement procedure. What kind of thinking happens in your head that leads you to that bloody conclusion?"

"You haven't slept, you worked nonstop for three months straight."

Gilga immediately threw her gaze to Lila, it was not a gaze of anger, nor disappointment. Mostly, it was a gaze that was filled with acknowledgement—that she knew, one day, this would happen.

"I-I'm sorry!"

Bold whispers could be heard from the remaining Streetlight Talons.

"Wait, our Chief hasn't rested?"