169 is their number. Their existence is to fight their own.
The city blared by crowded streets, endless stream of pedestrians, the artificial lights and sounds of man-made structures. The city never sleeps. It's a forever-awake giant of steels and concretes, forever sustained by the thousands and thousands of energies provided through the miles-long coppers covering the entire nation.
169 is their number. Only through their fate that ours can stay.
The boy looked at the city with amazed eyes. It was just a city, something similar to where he'd live in the past, but it just had to have a different sense to it. Different scent. Different feel. Different...something. Something rose up the boy's adrenaline, keeping his excitement fired up for seconds, minutes, hours.
169 is their number.
169 is our sacrifice.
Infinite is our enemies.
To win, is to dream...
"Sleep well, have a good night..."
The boy waved his hands, as the sky started to gather its dark clouds.