Restart:Untalented Man

The soldiers began to move through the streets towards the city hall nearby.

However, as they drew closer to their destination, Wilmot raised his hand, urging them to slow their pace.

If anybody were going to take control of the city, the heart of its administration should undoubtedly be one of their primary targets.

Wilmot, recognizing the significance of the city hall, took out a pair of binoculars and examined the area around it.

Through binoculars, he examined the vicinity of the city hall.

The scene unfolded before his eyes.

Dead bodies lay scattered across the ground, proving there were fierce battles that had occurred before their arrival.

Smoke and fire, still smouldering in various spots, cast an acrid haze over the area.

Without uttering a single word, Wilmot conveys a series of gestures to his soldiers, instructing them to encircle the entire city hall and create a perimeter that would prevent any potential threats from escaping.

The soldiers received Wilmot's silent command and moved as silently as the order they received. Their footsteps were barely audible.

Several squads, each consisting of five to six soldiers, were formed as well.

Their mission was to enter the city hall, check for any enemy presence and secure every corner of the building.

Once they crossed the threshold into the city hall, the squads scattered, each team moving with the precision of a well-coordinated unit.

Wilmot led his own squad through the silent corridors toward the governor's office.

Floor after floor, they ascended without any hindrance. The eerie silence of the building and the littered corpses along the way heightened their suspense.

In a short span of time, they stopped in unison in front of the governor's office.

Wilmot glanced at his squad members. Each soldier gripped their rifle tightly, the weapons loaded and ready to be fired at a moment's notice.

Their expressions showed that they were fully prepared for whatever they might encounter.

Understanding the unspoken message conveyed by their General's glance, the squad members took their positions.

On Wilmot's signal, the door was kicked open, crashing into the room with a resounding thud.

The general and his soldiers entered with their rifles raised, pointing them into the office.

His eyes immediately locked onto a sole figure in the room.

He promptly shouted, "Halt! Hands in the air!"

....

Thud—

Another lifeless body crumpled to the ground. One particular SIN's agent wipes the sweat on his forehead.

It was clear that he was tired.

While the mission was no walk in the park, it was not easy either.

The agent had encountered a variety of responses from his targets.

Some had shown bravery, fiercely fighting against him, while some ran like a coward, attempting to flee the inevitable.

Some had tried to deflect accusations and place blame elsewhere, and the worst of his targets had even used others as human shields.

It was mentally taxing for the agent.

He found himself internally exasperated, thinking, 'Can you just shut your mouth and accept your fate? We have all the evidence pointing at you.'

Sigh—

"How many times did I sigh today?" he asked himself. He wasn't sure anymore.

The count was a blur as he had lost track amidst the chaos of the mission.

"Wheatman!" someone called out his name. 

He turned around to find out who was it and was relieved to see his friend, Nerdwolf, surrounded by a group of lower-ranked agents.

However, the state of his friend's appearance raised immediate concern.

His friend was battered and bruised.

"What happened to you?"

"I got attacked by a blackout agent."

"What?!" Wheatman's face was painted with surprise. Nerdwolf was a skilled agent, and the fact that he had been reduced to such a state left him bewildered. "How can you lose?"

He was unable to fathom how a formidable agent like Nerdwolf could be defeated.

Nerdwolf sighed, "It was Jack. I'm lucky I wasn't killed."

Wheatman nods understandably. He can see why his friend lost.

"How's the situation here?" Nerdwolf inquired, shifting his focus to their surroundings.

"Not as bad as the situation outside. As you can see, we've almost wrapped things up here." Wheatman gestured to the bloody floor. "That being said, I'm glad you're here, Nerdwolf."

Nerdwolf seemed puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"I had to go to the city hall," Wheatman said. His gaze shifted to the window and his expression turned serious. "There are many pesky insects there who will try to take hold of that place."

Nerdwolf immediately grasped the situation. "You should bring some agents with you," he advised, recalling the perilous encounter he had faced earlier. "Or you might end up in the same situation as I did."

"I'm not actually planning to," he said, "but sure, it can't hurt to be prepared."

Wheatman set out for the city hall to assess the situation and, if necessary, take control of the pivotal location.

Along the way, the chaos and unrest grew increasingly intense the closer he got to his destination.

Upon arriving at the city hall, he was confronted with a grim sight. The building had been stormed by secessionists, who had overrun its corridors and chambers.

"This won't do," he said. He couldn't allow this place, the heart of the administration, to remain in the hands of the secessionists.

He turned around to his men, his tone resolute. "Eliminate everyone in our path to the governor's office."

His men nod and begin to execute the order, moving through the building and eradicating anyone who crosses their path.

Civilian or not, the moment they hold a weapon, they should be ready to forfeit their life.

In his course of ascending the stairs of the city hall, a trail of blood painted the path to the front door of the governor's office.

It was caused by none other than Wheatman himself.

Creak—

He pushed the door open and the room beyond came into view.

Wheatman's sharp eyes scanned the office.

It was eerily quiet, and it appeared that the governor was not present.

Despite the apparent stillness, Wheatman remained cautious, his guard never dropping for even a second. He took a cautious step further into the room, ready for any unexpected developments.

Standing beside the governor's desk, Wheatman began to inspect the papers strewn about. "Let's see what you got here."

He wasn't sure for how long he immersed himself in looking at all these documents.

However, the abrupt sound of a door being violently kicked open snapped him back to reality.

He looks toward the door and sees a few people burst into the office.

"Halt! Hands in the air!" one of them shouted.