Chapter 19 About Going to Work
"Although my supervisor told me to keep a low profile as much as possible..."
The man stood alone amidst a hail of bullets, his snow-white hair untouched by a speck of dust. The scythe in his hand deflected the bullets raining down upon him with imperceptible speed.
Sinclair was forced to cower in the vacuum zone behind Algaria; if he were to leave that area now, he would be riddled with bullets.
As he listened to the man's low muttering to himself, a bad premonition suddenly rose in his heart.
Mr. Algaria seems to be planning something outrageous.
The man's lips curled into a smile, which grew wider and wider, as if he had anticipated something funny and looked extremely happy.
Sinclair only felt his collar tighten before he was thrown into the now-ruined office.
The white-haired man had already bent down and rushed towards the other side.
He wielded the massive scythe with effortless skill, the high-speed vibrations even causing aftershocks. The men in suits who had gathered around were harvested by the scythe like weeds. He was like a grim reaper from hell, constantly reaping lives.
The gunfire ceased, leaving only a pile of corpses.
Sinclair had completely matched Algaria with the figure in his memory—the man who took the leader away from the underground Gear Order during the Fifth Night of Valpurgis.
He was judged by Miss Don Quixote to be one of the color-level finishers, but why would he obey the manager's orders to accompany her?
No, the blond boy recalled the first time he saw a man in this world; he was even punished by the manager to move boxes.
The boy's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed his doubts. This was clearly not the place to question him; what if he had admitted something wrong?
The two men left without reporting back to the leader who had given the order to surround and kill them, nor did they slaughter the remaining people who had stopped attacking; they simply departed quietly.
Inside the leader's room on the top floor, there was a deathly silence. Among those who participated in the attack below, besides ordinary members, there were quite a few who possessed special abilities.
But when they faced the white-haired man, they were no different from ordinary people; they were all instantly killed. The man's scythe did not stop for anyone, and in his dance-like movements, none of them survived.
Lower-level personnel can be recruited again, but there are only so many valuable ability users in total. Apart from a few left outside on standby as a precaution, the Port Mafia's ability users can be said to have been almost completely wiped out.
The old man gripped the armrests of his wheelchair; his aged hands were covered with bluish-purple veins, and the armrests made a strange sound as he squeezed them.
Even though his mind had been clouded by the "resurrection," now, under the overwhelming force, his feverish mind was doused with a bucket of ice water and completely cooled down.
He knew that, in any case, he would not get his hands on the English whisky; the organization's military might was enough to destroy the Port Mafia.
The old man, exhausted, leaned back in his chair and slumped down. He asked the colonel waiting inside:
"How many of my supernatural ability users are left?"
The colonel lowered his head, not daring to look the old man in the eye, and remained silent.
"You may leave."
The old man waved his hand, signaling the two people waiting inside to leave.
It was a truly horrific scene. Mori Ougai looked at his office, now a complete mess, and wondered if he should be thankful that the main battleground wasn't inside.
"Dazai-kun? Silver?"
The poor middle-aged doctor called out to the children who should have been waiting in the office.
As expected, Dazai-kun had already left with Gin. But where did they go? England-kun and the white-haired man who accompanied him left alone, without taking them with them. Where is that man?
Thanks for the invitation. I'm underground, just got off the elevator.
Dazai Osamu followed Mia down a rapidly moving elevator. After passing the luxuriously decorated central headquarters, they continued down the elevator until they were finally led to an elderly man wearing a monocle.
“Minister Hokma, this is a new employee that the supervisor asked me to bring. He is for you to keep an eye on and do as you please.”
Mia relayed to Hokma that she had left the boy with the head of the records department in a hurry, as she still had to continue her night shift.
"Did the teacher send you here?"
Benjamin looked at the young "new employee" and asked.
"You mean the supervisor?"
The gray-haired man nodded in agreement.
"The supervisor told me to follow you first."
After staring at the "new employee" for a moment, Benjamin asked the exact same question as his teacher:
"How old are you this year?"
No way? We have to go through the process again? Dazai Osamu was speechless. He wondered if they would send him to another department again in a little while.
Before the boy could answer, he took back his question.
"Fine, since he sent you, that's fine."
The young manager seemed to have unparalleled control; the employees and department heads all appeared to be extremely obedient.
The boy with iris-colored curly hair mentally assessed the interpersonal relationships here.
Dazai Osamu followed Hokma deeper into the records department, where huge clocks and a jumble of documents filled the air.
Inside was a somewhat frantic man, dressed in a white outfit with red patterns. The fabric didn't look like common material, or perhaps it wasn't even fabric at all.
Two wings extend from its back. One looks like the wings of a legendary angel at first glance, but upon closer inspection, it is clearly a wing wrapped in strange bone. The other is a gift from a demon, with clear yellow eyes covering the black wings.
The strange man was scratching his hair and making strange noises.
"Kingsley, you can go home now."
The soft sound rang in the man's ears like a thunderclap. He stood up abruptly, said nothing, and ran away.
He was incredibly fast, as if a ghost was chasing him, and he dashed into the elevator in the blink of an eye.
Hokma looked at the new employee and asked, "What's your name?"
"Dazai, Dazai Osamu, sir."
"Just call me Minister."
He gestured for Dazai to sit down, "This is your seat. You don't have to participate in the work on the Otherworldly entities for now."
"Let's categorize these files first."
Because the staffing was completely copied from someone's "memory," Benjamin and Angela had to collect all sorts of strange employee files, resulting in a chaotic mess of records containing all sorts of odd employees.
Each time the TT2 protocol is restarted and time is reversed, the organized files will revert to their original state, forcing the staff responsible for organizing them to repeat the work.
To ensure the smooth operation of TT2, it is urgent to find a dedicated employee to sort out these messy files.
This is why he asked his supervisor for smarter employees; the existing record department staff are all warriors, but they become listless when faced with documents.
Kingsley was the most composed person, but before long he was in this state of near madness.
After briefly explaining the workflow, Dazai Osamu was surprised that it was so easy, like the work of an archive clerk. Why did that person seem to be going crazy?
One day later.
With lifeless eyes, Dazai Osamu wanted to slap his past, ignorant self. Why did he ever try to explore the unknown world? This is hell!
Perhaps it was because of his special ability, his body told him that he had only lived for one day, but his mind was constantly flowing backwards throughout that day.
He could clearly perceive the time of hundreds of rewinds. He watched himself organize different files as the supervisor deployed different employees, and then return to the starting point as time rewound.
Now he completely understands men, oh, now he knows their names, why Kingsley went crazy, he's going crazy too.
Finally, with the energy collection for the day finished, the boy's slightly curly hair had been ruffled into a mess, and his two amber eyes revealed a deathly calm.
He left the lower level with the employees who were leaving get off work, leaving only one or two cats on duty.
"Dazai-kun?"
The voice sounded familiar. The boy looked in the direction of the voice and saw the English whisky beckoning to him. Had he already returned? It seemed the Port Mafia had lost.
Sinclair was startled by Dazai Osamu's lifeless eyes. This feeling of déjà vu was the same as when he saw Mr. Honglu in the park earlier.
He happened to be given a day off by his supervisor because his attributes weren't good enough, so he slacked off all day. He had no idea what the other employees were going through in the facility.
"How are you?"
It felt like my soul was about to float away from my mouth.
Why are you so energetic?
The boy whispered like a ghost, and Sinclair casually revealed the reason:
"I didn't go to work today."
Still sporting his messy hair, Dazai Osamu looked like he was about to devour poor Sinclair; for a moment, he revealed an expression like that of a demon.
"Mr. Honglu!"
Sinclair missed Dazai Osamu's sudden change of expression, but he happened to meet his target, a young man surrounded by three gray spheres that were much larger than before.
Unlike his previous suits, this time he wore EGO armor that matched the color scheme of the ball. He also looked tired, but he looked much better than Dazai Osamu.
Unlike the underground facilities, which become somewhat chaotic after get off work hours, the above-ground facilities are much more orderly.
The team leader from Company W looked at the restored transportation pipeline with satisfaction and remarked:
"Finally, we don't have to wait for the slow-moving manpower anymore."
Before long, this Warp train will be able to return to the city.
Holding the terminal in her hand, she stretched her limbs; it was time for her to go home.
Hmm? There seems to be someone outside the yard?
The team leader stopped what he was doing and looked out warily. Unlike the yard and facilities where the signal was blocked, the signal could be received normally outside the yard.
The distillery has located this remote house by tracking the English whisky's communication channels.
Given that English whisky defected along with Barbaresco, they also sent two senior codenamed members to investigate.
A note from the author:
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Yeah!
That's enough writing for this week's rankings. Time to go grind for loot boxes. See you Thursday!
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