The deeper they moved into the city, the more the architecture defied the laws of the physical world. Buildings didn't just stand; they pulsed with a low-frequency hum that vibrated through the soles of Aden's boots. The ground beneath the wagons was a seamless sheet of obsidian, polished so finely that it felt like driving across a frozen lake of ink.
Zero was a blur of frantic motion. He zipped from the wagon to the eaves of the nearest glass spires, his internal processors whirring at maximum capacity. He was mapping the city's defensive grid, his sensors screaming at the sheer density of the reflection traps hidden in the walls. Every time he chirped, the sound bounced back with a split-second delay, tuned to a frequency that made his chrome chassis rattle.
"Aden," Eren whispered, his voice sounding hollow in the absorbent air. "The people... they don't have reflections."
