The puppet had finally reached the looming factories and the metallic cylinder. From this proximity, the structure was truly colossal, towering over everything. It stood tall, an island of cold, hard metal in a sea of dry, golden stacks of grass that danced and swayed in the slow, whispering winds.
The puppet hid nearby in the tall wilderness and observed the movements, scanning the area for any sign. But there was nothing. Everything was as silent as a tomb.
Sezel was completely focused, his consciousness a ghost inhabiting the puppet's form, his own body was a forgotten vessel on a distant rooftop. He was so engrossed in the scene that he didn't notice Shiki's approach until a firm hand grabbed his arm and jolted him backwards.
Sezel looked back, bewildered. "What happened?"
