[Congratulations on your appointment to Yun's Office]
[Acquired Work Talent: Polishing Blade]
[Description: You can slap five times in a single breath; landing nine strikes in one second is no longer a dream.]
[Effect 1: Your observational skills and neural reflexes are greatly enhanced.]
[Effect 2: You gain mastery over bladed weapons.]
Carefully sensing the changes in his body, Putato found this Talent quite impressive. In his excitement, he flicked his wrist and precisely caught a fly between his fingertips.
Combined with his Hematic Pump, this speed likely surpassed what low-grade Fixers could handle. Joining Stray Dogs now felt like a much more certain endeavor.
"What exactly is this guy's background?"
Yun held Putato's employment contract, his expression unreadable as he watched him depart.
Did he truly wish to be a 'good person' and leave the Syndicate? If not, he would surely realize this contract would become his death warrant within the Syndicate.
No matter. In any case, this arrangement was beneficial for the Office's growth.
If the timing was right, Yun planned to recall Eri to launch a joint assault on Stray Dogs. For now, however, he needed to observe.
As for Putato, it was better for such an ambitious and dangerous fellow to simply disappear. Lost in thought, Yun lit another cigarette.
Putato, leaving in a hurry, noticed he wasn't being followed and muttered to himself: "Did Yun actually tail Finn for days?"
"Why does Finn blurt out everything? He clearly doesn't understand the concept of quietly getting rich."
Putato headed toward the ruins of the Brotherhood of Iron stronghold. Fortunately, his quick thinking had successfully deceived Yun.
He felt no moral burden about playing both sides. If Stray Dogs found out, he would simply become a double agent. If that failed, he would flee.
"Fortunately, the body is still here."
Lifting a wooden board, Putato finally located a body bag in the wreckage of the building. Inside lay Khaji's remains.
His previous haste in joining the Brotherhood had caused him to forget to collect Khaji's body.
Putato had intentionally used the body bag to re-enter the Office, retrieved Khaji's remains, and temporarily placed them in the living room, intending to provide a proper burial.
Unfortunately, a series of chaotic events had left him no time for the task.
"Damn it! Bro, why have you turned into jerky?"
Reaching for the body bag, Putato immediately sensed something was wrong. Why was it so dry and shriveled?
Pulling open the zipper, he saw that Khaji was nothing but skin and bones.
"Who did this?! Who drained my bro?!"
No one nearby replied. Only the Trash Elders were busy scavenging.
Putato, boiling with rage, ignored the stench of the corpse and meticulously examined it.
His expertise in Prosthetic modification granted him deep knowledge of human anatomy. Khaji's bones and flesh were intact; however, his blood had been completely drained.
This eerie symptom gave Putato a dark premonition.
"Meow."
A calico cat, licking its paws, squatted on a ruined refrigerator and let out an elegant meow.
Putato spun around, not daring to treat this cat as an ordinary animal. Cold sweat instantly broke out on his back.
"Boss Cat, long time no see."
When faced with an unpredictable threat, surrender first. It is better to lose face than to lose your life.
The surrounding Trash Elders, seeing Putato shouting at a cat, wisely kept their distance, fearing he had lost his mind.
To Putato's surprise, the calico cat didn't respond but jumped off the refrigerator and walked to his feet.
Putato searched his memories but couldn't find any Game Lore related to cats. The monsters and strange beings in The City were simply too numerous.
"Can you move aside, Boss Cat? I'm burying my bro."
Since probing was useless, Putato continued with his business.
Putato dug up the large pit where the landlord's body was buried in the living room, kicked the corpse aside, and placed Khaji's body in.
After filling in the dirt, Putato was exhausted and drenched in sweat.
Suddenly, a thick, overwhelming scent of blood permeated the air from behind.
Hematic Pump!
Putato rolled out of the way, feeling a violent gust of wind behind him, as if it would peel the skin from his back.
Damn it!
Looking back, Putato was horrified to see the cat's entire body stretching out. Its blood-red form had expanded several times its original size.
Its pair of glowing, rose-red eyes seemed to have blood swirling within them, shimmering with a deadly allure.
"Boss Cat, don't be like that. I'm scared."
A terrifying, bloody claw struck toward his heart. Putato felt as if he had already been hit. No matter how the Hematic Pump operated, the movement of his blood undeniably slowed down.
Bang!
In desperation, Putato raised the landlord's corpse to block the claw, yet he was still sent flying backward by the immense force.
The moment Putato regained his footing, he sprinted toward the end of the street. Only a dumbass would want to fight a cat monster to the death.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!
Dexterously dodging the flying debris from behind, Putato shouted at the Trash Elders to get out of the way, but many unfortunate souls were struck and sent tumbling.
Having escaped, Putato dared not return to check.
"The Hematic Pump failed just now. A brand new item shouldn't malfunction like that."
"Wait, Khaji's blood was also missing. Could that cat have done it? Is it a Bloodfiend Cat, damn it!"
Bloodfiend, in The City, could simply be understood as a Vampire.
If there was anything special about them, Bloodfiends only craved fresh blood from living beings; blood that had been out of the body for too long would not suffice.
Putato pulled at his hair, nearly frantic. He couldn't understand why a Bloodfiend Cat had suddenly targeted him.
"No, there is no time."
Putato pushed aside his thoughts and stood up, returning to the Prosthetic Clinic.
After knocking out the secret code on the door, Mo furtively opened it.
"You—what did you go do?"
"Hired an Office to deal with Stray Dogs."
Consta immediately stood up, looking at Putato in surprise.
"Wha—What? Can they handle it?"
Mo was equally shocked.
"How—how much did that cost?! Are you insane?!"
"I have been tired of your attitude for a long time. Is money truly that important to you?"
Putato's voice was calm and level, yet his words caught everyone off guard.
"What—what are you trying to say?"
"My point is simple. That small amount of cash isn't enough to handle Stray Dogs, especially a man like Gyeong-mi."
"Since Stray Dogs has already locked down this district, we cannot liquidate our stolen goods. These items are far too recognizable."
"Think about it. If your own stronghold were ransacked, would you just let it go? There is absolutely no room for negotiation here."
"I have a secure escape route, but we have to leave these items behind. If anyone values coin more than their own life, then take your share and get out."
Mo was the first to snap.
"We—we came here to turn a profit! Now you're telling us to just abandon the haul? For what?!"
"You—you can escape on your own! Consta, Arnold, let's move!"
At Mo's insistence, the two augmented men gathered the loot and stood up.
Putato hadn't spoken with any ulterior motive. He genuinely wanted to know if others valued material things over their own lives, the way Khaji had before committing suicide.
Even if the three actually left, it wouldn't be a problem; he had already installed tracking devices in their Prosthetics. Besides, there were plenty of replacements back at the clinic.
One by one, the augmented men walked past Putato.
Listening to the rhythmic, mechanical whirring of their low-grade Prosthetics, Putato's resolve to climb to the absolute peak of The City burned even brighter.
This fortress of a City cannot be changed, nor should anyone be arrogant enough to try!
"Hey—hey, aren't you going to try and stop me?"
Putato slowly unbuckled his chest brace, focusing intensely on the digital clock mounted above it.
Mo snorted, gripped the body bag, and reached for the door.
"Mo—Mo, are you really leaving? I thought you were just being difficult."
"As—as long as we follow Putato, we can definitely make it all back later."
Putato looked up, slightly surprised to see Mo being held back and restrained by the other two.
"Do you finally believe life is worth more than money?"
"That's—that's ridiculous."
"No—but I believe in you."
"You—you can earn it all back, right?"
Putato couldn't help but smile.
...
"Damn it, what the hell is wrong with you, bitch?!"
Gyeong-mi gnashed his teeth, glaring at the woman with the ponytail and the single-bladed chainsaw across from him.
"Do I really need a reason to exterminate heinous Syndicate members? I'll even cover the property damage myself!"
Olga swung her arm, cleaving through a Stray Dogs lackey who dared to lung at Rain. Mika, coordinating the assault from the flank, moved with the precision of a veteran.
The factory was a chaotic wreck. The Molar Office trio operated in perfect harmony, a whirlwind of steel tearing through the Syndicate ranks.
"Damn it, why are these bastards hunting us like the Brotherhood of Iron? Someone is playing us!"
Zulu and Dino, the two normally stoic executives, couldn't stop themselves from cursing aloud.
Only moments ago, they had scoured the surrounding streets but failed to find that flashy punk. When they returned, they found their own base had been pillaged.
The basement remained hidden, luckily, but half a month's worth of their primary haul had vanished. Gyeong-mi had been so enraged he trashed the manager's office.
The fact that the thieves were the very same Brotherhood of Iron they had been chasing was an absolute insult; they were being treated like amateurs.
Unfortunately, before Gyeong-mi could gather intelligence, Molar Office had already struck.
"You dare bring this trouble to my door? Every last one of you mongrels is going to die!"
With one hand, Gyeong-mi unhooked the heavy iron chain from above his head. A sharp flick of his arm sent it coiling around him like a serpent.
He completely ignored Rain's flanking maneuver from the right, throwing a direct, brutal punch at Olga's face.
Clang!
Mika swung her blade with everything she had, narrowly deflecting the lethal strike.
"Again! Bring it again!!"
His momentum broken, Gyeong-mi lunged forward against Rain's massive blade. Another heavy, iron-ringed punch connected; even though Olga parried in time, the sheer force drove her back several steps.
"Such monstrous strength."
Olga scanned the battlefield. More than half of Stray Dogs lay dead or broken. Although they held the advantage of surprise, their own momentum was beginning to stall.
The client's objective was complete; there was no reason to turn a victory into a slaughter.
"Everyone, fall back!"
Panting heavily, Putato—who had just reached the factory—crouched inside a dumpster, watching the Fixers execute a tactical retreat. The Trash Elders huddled beside him, too terrified to breathe.
Putato caught a clear glimpse of Olga locked in combat with Gyeong-mi. She was a Grade 5 Fixer.
This commission had proven to be worth every cent.
Beyond the heaps of "rat" corpses, the number of tattooed bodies littered across the floor exceeded thirty.
One must realize that although Stray Dogs was an Urban Legend-grade Syndicate, its actual scale was relatively modest. This was evident by the fact that Gyeong-mi frequently had to lead field operations personally.
"It almost went too well," Putato muttered to himself.
He watched from his hiding spot as a furious Gyeong-mi seized a Fixer and unleashed a relentless barrage of punches, literally reducing the man's head to pulp. Seeing that, Putato instinctively touched his own skull, feeling that his plan to join Stray Dogs might be far more suicidal than he had anticipated.
Arranging a private negotiation seemed like a much safer bet.
Nearby, the residents had long since bolted their doors and windows in response to the escalating violence. By nightfall, the streets were a ghost town. Putato couldn't simply climb out of the dumpster yet; he would be far too conspicuous.
Clang.
To Putato's absolute shock, a Trash Elder suddenly heaved the lid open from the outside. The old man snatched a discarded package from the bin and bolted toward a side alley.
"Dammit, old man! You were safe in here! Why run now? You'll get crushed out there!"
Putato desperately wanted to blend in by mimicking a Trash Elder, but his current gear made that impossible. Stepping out now would be the definition of sticking his head in the sand.
Suddenly, a terrifying realization struck him.
In every Backstreet of The City, the window from 3:13 A.M. to 4:34 A.M. was notorious as the Night in the Backstreets.
In plain terms, this was the daily "human harvest." During this window, anything was permitted so long as it didn't violate the Taboos of The City. Three waves of Sweepers would conduct a massive purge, systematically slaughtering their way from one end of the District to the other.
The only saving grace was a specific Taboo: during the Night in the Backstreets, residential structures could not be destroyed. Even the Fingers, the undisputed rulers of the underworld, dared not cross that line.
"No wonder those Trash Elders were huddling together. I think I heard them mention sharing a room earlier."
"How could I forget something so vital?!"
The constant pressure had scrambled Putato's internal clock. The Sweepers weren't dangerous because of their individual strength; they were terrifying because of their relentless numbers and sheer durability. The thought of being caught in the open when the streets filled with them made his skin crawl.
"Hey, you've got a short memory, don't you? Don't let Stray Dogs catch sight of you again!"
"You pathetic Trash Elders, always barking. You only got a few broken bones because you ran into me. If you met the Boss, you wouldn't have a pulse."
"Now get lost!"
The voices outside caused Putato to break into a cold sweat. He hadn't expected the karma of his earlier encounter with the Trash Elders to loop back so quickly.
Curled in the bin, Putato lowered his head, praying the Syndicate members would finish their business and leave.
"What new brand of insanity are these Fixer bastards up to? Attacking us out of nowhere..."
"And that damned Brotherhood of Iron."
A tattooed man wearing a spiked collar dragged four heavy bags of trash toward the bin. He let go with a grunt, rubbing a massive bruise on his forehead—a souvenir from Putato's earlier elbow strike.
As he hoisted the first bag to toss it in, he found the bin occupied.
"Hello," Putato whispered.
The two stared at each other in stunned silence. Putato was momentarily at a loss for words. He hadn't anticipated this—the man standing over him was the exact same Stray Dogs sub-boss he had ambushed earlier that day.
"IT'S PUTATO!!!"
"HEY! EVERYONE GET OVER HERE! ENEMY ATTACK!"
The man slammed the trash bag down on Putato's head and howled at the sky, instantly alerting every Syndicate member cleaning up outside the factory.
Gyeong-mi, who had been casually wiping blood from his knuckles, shredded his handkerchief the moment he heard that name. The others, who were busy burying the dead, dropped their shovels in a collective rage.
No one could stomach this level of constant provocation.
Dammit!
Hematic Pump!
Putato nimbly evaded the falling trash bag, leaped from the bin, and sprinted for his life. He realized with a sinking heart that he had no allies left and nowhere to hide.
"Brother Cat?"
"Sister Cat?"
"A little help here!"
He ducked under a flurry of swings, desperately shouting for the Bloodfiend Cat, hoping it might be nearby. At least Bloodfiends were equal-opportunity predators.
Instead, he found Gyeong-mi blocking his path, wearing a savage, bloodthirsty grin. The giant man cracked his knuckles, the friction of his heavy gauntlets throwing off visible sparks.
"Kid, you actually have the stones to face me alone? You little rat, let's see you dodge this!"
"Wait! Just listen!"
"What the hell is there to say?!"
Gyeong-mi snatched up a heavy metal trash can lid and hurled it like a frisbee. It whistled through the air with lethal velocity.
Bang!
Thanks to his enhanced reflexes, Putato dropped into a crouch the instant the lid left Gyeong-mi's hand. The green Henshin symbol on his left flickered to life, only to be shattered an instant later as the lid smashed into the wall behind him.
That was too close.
"Gyeong-mi, you treacherous bastard! I trusted you!" Putato roared.
"You piece of sh*t!"
Gyeong-mi was both shocked and infuriated. He couldn't believe he had missed such a small target again. He wished he had crushed Putato when he had the chance.
"Did you forget our bet?!" Putato yelled, reaching for the smoke bombs and tear gas on his belt as the Syndicate members closed in.
"You said if the four of us escaped, you'd let us go!"
Surprisingly, Gyeong-mi actually paused, raising a hand to signal his men to hold their fire.
"You dog! You think I'm as crooked as you are?!"
"My word is my bond! If I say 'one,' I mean one! If I say 'two,' it's two!"
Zulu, seeing Gyeong-mi actually hesitating, quickly intervened.
"Don't be a fool, Boss. Don't listen to this kid's games."
Dino chimed in as well.
"He's right. We already let him walk once. That debt is settled. This is a new grudge."
"If we don't turn this guy into red paste, Stray Dogs will be the laughingstock of the Backstreets."
"The Sweepers are almost here anyway. Hack off his limbs and dump him in the gutter."