So, with reluctant determination, Cisco led Baelgor down the busy street, weaving past cars, buses, and clusters of pedestrians. His destination: the government registry office. His reason: survival and profit.
Baelgor, however, was less concerned with the bustling crowd and more fascinated by the human "structures" surrounding him. Tall buildings lined the streets, steel and glass rising toward the heavens like crude imitations of ancient towers. He studied them with faint disdain, as though a single flick of his hand could reduce the fragile constructs to rubble.
"These are the strongholds of mortals?" he muttered under his breath, his golden eyes scanning the flow of humanity. Men and women hurried past without acknowledging one another, eyes glued to glowing screens, expressions blank. "Hmph. Futile creatures… rushing about as if their tiny existences mattered."
