Chapter 475: NO.58: Someone Thinks You're a Mercenary, Eh!

NO. 58: Someone thinks you're a mercenary, huh!

Create a new world.

An otherworldly scale that differs from the game world and truly benchmarks the real world.

Such feats are rarely achieved even by beings called gods, yet such grand ambitions ultimately serve only to invade the world.

Sigh.

Aomo sighed, not knowing whether he was annoyed or sympathetic.

He leaned back relaxed on the sofa, turned his head to look at the rain outside the glass window that was almost washing away, and belatedly recalled some things.

For example, in the world of Ultraman, war, or rather invasion, is usually a common and eternal theme.

For residents who have long lived in the Terra Federation, this is a very distant term.

Since the establishment of the Star Alliance, the Star Calendar Era has begun.

Large-scale wars have basically ceased.

Small-scale wars occasionally break out, but no one knows in which remote corner of the universe's star systems and asteroid belts.

Anyway, they won't happen within the solar system, after all this is the core territory of the Star Alliance's civilization—the Holy Terra Federation.

But war is an eternal topic.

Even in so-called peaceful years, it merely changes form.

It often begins between urban areas, between planets, in fields such as commerce, culture, economy, and so on.

But even so, this term is still too far removed from the citizens of the Border Gate District.

Even the word 'invasion' is like that—hard to squeeze into nouns such as 'vegetable prices', 'tuition fees', 'horse tickets', and the like.

Even though Aomo has become a mercenary, his area of activity usually does not exceed a single star system.

And the battlefield of this star system...

"In the past six hundred years, the authority of the Holy Terra Federation, or rather the Heart of Terra, has been challenged 1,426 times."

"That sounds astonishing."

"Your expression shows not a hint of surprise... ah, thank you."

The speaking man wore a black suit, sat opposite him, with an impeccably proper posture, and thanked the waiter for the coffee brought over.

The waiter politely replied "you're welcome", then turned back with the tray, seemingly not curious about the floating object behind him that resembled a red sunny-day doll.

"Ah, this is really a nice place."

The man undoubtedly admired this professionalism, and after picking up his coffee and taking a sip, he couldn't praise it enough.

"The coffee is also great, really good, really good!"

"Looking at it makes me want to open a similar coffee shop!"

He, praising in Jidong accent, actually didn't care at all about the attention from other customers; he merely glanced at the shop's elegant decor and lively greenery, then looked at the youth sprawled on the sofa, indifferent to his surroundings, just staring at the ceiling.

The youth wore the same black slim-fit suit, glasses, and a briefcase was placed beside the sofa.

Even giving the meeting a hint of business.

But his sloppy, mud-like sitting posture doesn't look like that of a businessperson.

At least he wouldn't be a qualified businessperson.

Meanwhile, on the table between them, although coffee was placed, in the center lay something that looked like a children's toy card, making it hard to stay serious.

"In that Ou Bu universe, your colleagues have already done similar things, and if the shop's owner were present, this coffee shop would probably change its appearance."

The youth sunk deep in the sofa spoke unhurriedly.

His gaze remained on the grid-like ceiling, as if there were something especially attractive inside.

Such a place does not exist.

What he was gazing at was the opponent's invisible light screen.

On that screen was a first-person perspective filming of battlefield images from the data world level.

In the image, monsters, Ultraman, and attendants were all present, while the absent Digimon... were handled by the photographer who, with a free hand, fired projectiles to deal with obstructers.

Compared to those special effects films that stick to restoring the original and are limited by filming techniques, this footage is more impactful.

Or rather, more popcorn‑like.

However, since we've brought up popcorn, we must also complain that this magnificent, grandiose picture really doesn't go well with coffee.

It would be more fitting with soda.

But this shop is an orthodox coffee house.

Although they have milk prepared, they do not offer soda.

Nor will there be any messy dish‑style coffee—this is already a good thing.

"Change its appearance?" the man asked, somewhat curious.

"The shop's owner is also a busy person, and right now she's busy at some data world base, but you might guess whether she'd be willing to work overtime there."

"I see, truly a bad taste, Mr. Lin Dun."

"I don't accept this baseless accusation." Finally freeing himself from the sofa's softness, the youth sat up, picked up his coffee, and took a sip.

"Especially in such a downpour, I should have been at home drinking coffee while listening to a song, and that song is sung by a child I greatly admire."

"You look like a young father bragging about his children."

"That would be moving too fast; I haven't even considered signing a child‑rearing agreement, nor do I have a girlfriend in the sense of a partner."

"Aside from that, do you have any girlfriends?"

"No, none at all; I'm just used to getting straight to the point," the youth said calmly, "and aren't we straying too far off topic?"

"Indeed," the man nodded elegantly, "so do you admit you chose this place just to make me embarrassed?"

"This is still not the original topic, and yet you, after carrying out an invasion, still feel embarrassed about the victim's hostility?" the youth said, somewhat puzzled, pushing his glasses.

"At least it's rare to find a shop that's sufficiently satisfactory, yet to make it so unpleasant…" The man, with a face full of regret, fell silent for a moment, then regained his vigor: "In that case, once my invasion succeeds, I'll turn this shop completely into my property."

"Not really." The youth sat up slightly, then bent over a bit, raised his hand, and flipped over the middle card among the three on the table.

Looking at the huge eyeball-like creature image on it, he felt somewhat ominous and shook his head, then tossed that eye Q-card back onto the table.

"The trend of invasion will change many things; in this process, this coffee shop might lose excellent employees, lose its original flavor, and even cease to exist entirely."

As he said that, he sat up straight again, leaned back against the chair, and with a lower viewpoint cast a gaze that looked down from above.

"I still suggest you replicate an identical shop, or directly poach people—it's more practical."

Those words somewhat surprised the other party: "I thought you were friends with the shop owner."

"It can be not, or it can be; it doesn't matter either way, after all, you won't succeed."

Aomo said, glancing at the fighter jet that suddenly burst onto the screen.

It wasn't that the super agent finally arrived; rather, the Beilstark Beast finally ran into his active city district.

This base city is indeed large, and lacks any notable landmark buildings, as if everywhere were cities copied and printed out.

This cannot highlight the style of distinctive architecture; obviously it's intended to confuse the senses.

In fact, when you want to buy time and don't want invaders to discover important facilities, you shouldn't consider monumental architecture.

Especially when the invaders' squad includes explosive experts.

The more unusual the building's shape, the quicker it turns into ruins.

"That's hard to agree with, Mr. Lin Dun."

"Then, with 1,426 attempts at warfare, have there been any successes?"

"It seems not." The man raised his hand and lightly pressed the white skull-pattern emblem on his formal attire's chest.

Then, light began to spill out from it.

Forming lines of gradually clear characters.

That is the opponent's compiled federal history, or rather, the history of being invaded.

Not a single success occurred; he merely recorded them one by one.

Of course, if there had ever been a success, the Terra Federation's influence in the Star Alliance would have plummeted.

"How about recently?" Aomo lifted his coffee and took a sip.

"Since five hundred twenty years ago as the dividing line, after that it's rare to have even one per year; in fact, the twelve hundred occurrences all took place within the first century of the Star Alliance's founding." The man reported earnestly.

The feeling of a business negotiation rose again, especially since the two's attire styles were quite similar, both all-black with some white accents.

As for the youth, it was the silver moon emblem on his necktie.

Of course, it lacked the functionality of the other's clothing.

"So you also didn't dare to invade directly? After crossing several worlds, Earth has become a hard bone tougher to crack than the Land of Light, right? Doesn't that feel eerie?" The youth asked with a light laugh.

In typical sci-fi works featuring extraterrestrials, Earth is usually the weaker side, given the countless stars in the vast universe; people generally follow the doctrine that "there are heavens beyond heaven."

Aomo's Earth is even more so.

Although the defense team's roster always includes some eccentric researchers who devise even more outlandish gear to give extraterrestrials a slight jolt of Earth.

But this doesn't prevent Earth from always being the little brother who needs extra attention from the big brother of the Land of Light.

Moreover, Earth once became the preferred target of invasive extraterrestrials, with invaders visiting every few days.

Therefore, among those who have transmigrated to this world, this bunch feels the most annoyed.

"Indeed, for this planet as it stands now, invasion itself has become a more challenging task."

Even the veteran invader, Commander Blaik, whose rank surpasses that of the Magmar aliens, must acknowledge this fact.

But then he shifted tone: "We have already come up with the most feasible plan,"

"The cyber world?"

"Exactly so, therefore we formally invite you to serve as a consultant."

He leaned forward slightly, raised his hand, and gently pushed the three cards on the table toward Aomo.

"You're a mercenary, aren't you? This is the down payment."

"Although I'm touched that someone finally remembered my profession, perhaps you lack understanding of the agency's mercenaries." Aomo said, glancing at the coffee shop's counter.

Likewise, Commander Blaik also glanced in that direction, then withdrew his hand and picked up the walking stick offered by the red tendril beside him.

He stood up.

"In that case, I'll go settle the bill first, then later ponder the differences among the agency's mercenaries—farewell!"

He said, then walked toward the attendant at the door with his cane, while Aomo, without turning his head, stared at the three monster cards left on the table.

Although two of them were just card backs, laid like trap cards, and even lacked the surging spiritual energy typical of ordinary monster cards.

But as soon as a little perception is released, one can sense some scorching malevolence and solid steadiness.

It is an aura of artificial and ancient origin.

Although he felt a bit curious, he instead reached out and picked up the still-warm coffee, gazing out at the darkening rainstorm beyond the window.

On a rainy night, no stars or moon are visible; only the pouring rain's patter can be heard, yet it's not unpleasant.

Because the rain will eventually stop.

As a complement to clear skies, Aomo appreciates the coolness it brings and its blocking of all sounds.

Unlike the scorching sun, which as extreme weather usually gives him discomfort.

"Are you going to accept his offer?"

At this moment, the man sitting opposite, in the demon's view, is as blazing as a scorching sun.

It let Aomo fully understand how the monsters and demons on the Ultraman Tiga set felt looking at Daigu.

Just as the world of Ultraman Tiga differs from where Aomo resides, this man also cannot be classified as part of that universe, for he is in the M-87 of restoring order, in the light star that exists not as a nation.

He stared at Aomo, his eyes showing little emotion.

Unlike Bourbon, it is a truly otherworldly sense of alienation.

Always so.