The mission center at the Association headquarters in the Great Library Plane was a bustling hub. Unlike the quiet administrative hall, screens refreshed constantly here, and investigators came and went in a steady stream. Some were covered in the stench of blood, some dragged heavy containment boxes behind them, and others stood in line to submit their reports while emitting thick black mist from their bodies. It seemed the working environment of a Wizard was quite lively.
Allen walked up to Window 7. "Level 2 Investigator, EX-2071."
The gray-robed clerk behind the window looked up at him, their gaze pausing for a fraction of a second on the badge pinned to Allen's chest. The EX prefix, a rescue mission, and having just returned from Plane 867—once all the information matched, the clerk's posture straightened, their attitude immediately becoming thirty percent more professional.
