The wind sharpened the higher Karl climbed.
Not stronger. Not faster. Sharper.
It threaded through the red skeletal lattice of Tokyo Tower like invisible wire, humming through hollow steel and old bolts, turning the entire structure into a cathedral organ that only the dead city could hear. Every step upward felt like climbing through a memory someone else had forgotten.
Below him, Tokyo lay fractured and endless. Highways curved like fossilized serpents. Skyscrapers leaned in exhausted angles. The bay reflected a dull metallic sheen under the sun. No smoke. No movement.
Except the shadow.
Agnes hovered just off his shoulder, glow dimmed to conserve energy but bright enough to outline his silhouette against the height.
"It's circling," she said calmly.
Karl didn't answer immediately. He shifted his grip, boot finding the next crossbeam. "Altitude pattern is wide. No dive trajectory. Yet."
He sounded composed.
He wasn't calm.
His heart was hammering, but not from fear. From something else. A childhood image burned into the back of his mind. A TV screen. A transformation sequence. Tokyo Tower standing proud in the background like a monument to something bigger than reality.
He had never seen it in person.
Until now.
Another gust hit. The tower swayed faintly, just enough to remind him that this was not a museum piece. This was a 333-meter needle of aging steel suspended over a dead metropolis.
The shadow passed again.
Closer.
This time it cut directly across the tower's upper lattice. The sun blinked out for half a second. The temperature dropped in that strange way it does when something enormous interrupts the sky.
Agnes turned her head slowly, tracking it. "Mass estimate has increased," she muttered. "Wingspan approximately thirty to forty meters. Movement is controlled. Not feral."
Karl climbed.
He did not look at it.
He did not stop.
"Why are you not looking concerned?" Agnes asked flatly.
"Because I am climbing," Karl replied. "If I look concerned, I lose focus. If I lose focus, I fall. If I fall, you will sigh."
She stared at him.
"I would do more than sigh."
He allowed the faintest hint of a smile.
They were close now. The upper observation deck loomed above, windows shattered, railings twisted, sections of mesh torn open like something had tested it long ago. The red paint that once defined Tokyo Tower had long since been stripped by time. Now it was a dull iron skeleton, oxidized and proud.
Karl pulled himself onto a small maintenance rung and paused.
He glanced east.
The shadow banked wide over the skyline, then disappeared behind a cluster of broken high-rises.
It wasn't attacking.
It was watching.
Agnes drifted slightly in front of him, eyes narrowed. "It knows we're here."
"Yes."
"And?"
"And it is deciding."
Wind screamed through the lattice again.
Karl resumed climbing.
Higher.
The air thinned just slightly. The city flattened beneath him into geometry. Cars were dots. Streets were veins. The Rainbow Bridge was a distant scar across the water.
He had seen it in shows. In documentaries. In promotional footage. In fictional battles that once felt larger than life.
Now it was quiet.
And he was real inside it.
The shadow returned.
This time lower.
Agnes reacted instantly, glow flaring brighter. "Karl."
He pressed himself closer to the steel, stabilizing his weight distribution. "Trajectory?"
"Descending arc. Passing north side."
The massive silhouette swept past the tower again, close enough that the turbulence hit them like a physical shove. The entire structure vibrated. Metal groaned in protest.
Karl's hand slipped half an inch.
Agnes's glow surged.
"Rider Frame," she warned sharply.
"Not yet."
The words were controlled, but strained.
He tightened his grip and waited out the turbulence. Waited for the wind to settle. Waited for the tower to stop shuddering.
The shadow did not strike.
It rose again, pulling back into the clouds.
Agnes dimmed slightly, though tension remained in her posture. "It is testing structural stability."
Karl nodded once. "It wants us unstable before engagement."
"You are extremely calm about this."
"I am almost at the top."
She stared at him in disbelief.
"You are prioritizing tourism."
"I am prioritizing completion."
Another rung. Another beam. Another careful shift of weight.
The upper platform was now directly above. The broken observation deck ringed the tower like a cracked crown. Wind whipped violently here, unfiltered and unchallenged.
Karl reached the final vertical ladder.
He paused.
Looked down.
The ground was impossibly far away.
The city felt smaller now. Manageable. Contained. Almost fragile.
"Do not fall," Agnes repeated quietly.
He began climbing the final stretch.
Each rung felt colder. Older. The metal bit into his gloves. Wind tore at his clothes. The tower's hum became louder here, vibrating through his bones.
The shadow did not return immediately.
That worried Agnes more than when it had been visible.
She rotated slowly in midair, scanning the horizon. East. South. Sky above.
Nothing.
Karl reached the top edge.
He pulled himself up.
And stood.
Fully.
At the top of Tokyo Tower.
The observation deck was shattered, glass long gone, railing partially collapsed. But the circular walkway still existed, scarred but intact.
Karl stepped forward.
The wind hit him full force, flattening his jacket against his body. His hair whipped violently across his face.
Tokyo spread out in every direction.
North was endless concrete and silent skyscrapers.
West faded into distant mountains wrapped in haze.
East opened to the bay, water dark and reflective.
South stretched toward broken industrial districts and highways like dead arteries.
From here, the city did not feel dead.
It felt paused.
Agnes floated beside him, quieter now.
"Well," she said softly.
Karl didn't respond.
He walked to the edge of the observation ring and rested his hands on what remained of the railing.
He had imagined this view a thousand times.
It was bigger than imagination.
The wind roared around them, turning the tower into a singing spear planted in the earth. The horizon curved faintly at the edges of perception.
For a moment, there was no Erevos Prototype.
No compass.
No mission.
Just height.
Just view.
Just the quiet triumph of standing where he had always wanted to stand.
Agnes watched him carefully.
"You're smiling," she observed.
"I am calculating."
"You're smiling."
He did not deny it.
A distant sound rolled across the sky.
Low.
Heavy.
Not thunder.
Agnes's glow sharpened instantly.
"Karl."
He turned.
Far above.
Directly above.
The clouds shifted unnaturally.
A massive shape moved behind them.
Not circling anymore.
Centered.
Hovering.
The sun dimmed as the silhouette expanded across the cloud cover, wings unfolding slowly, deliberately. The shape was clearer now. Horned. Armored. Vast.
It was no longer watching from a distance.
It had claimed the sky above Tokyo Tower.
Wind intensified, spiraling downward from the pressure displacement of something enormous holding position.
The tower vibrated.
Karl stood at the top.
Fully exposed.
Human.
Agnes moved closer to him, cyan light wrapping around his outline protectively.
"It has chosen," she said quietly.
Karl's eyes locked onto the silhouette above.
He exhaled once.
Steady.
Calm.
Satisfied.
He had reached the top.
And now the sky itself was looking down at him.
"Good," he murmured.
The wind screamed.
The shadow spread its wings across the sun.
And Karl stood at the highest point of Tokyo Tower, the entire broken city beneath him, as the inevitable finally descended.