CLXXXIX. Dangerous Game

Standing on the roof of the car, Liszt's field of vision was exceptionally wide, and the fierce wind had even flipped open a button on his shirt, with his bandana and the hem of his clothes fluttering noisily.

Liszt's physical fitness had reached the upper limits of humanity; an ordinary person standing here would have been blown over.

And at this moment, Liszt saw the true face of what was so-called a Magic Puppet.

It was not any kind of cyber-style delicate machinery, but rather something as fierce and bulky as a diesel punk from a wasteland.

Apart from the ones standing on the connection platform of the carriage, there were also eight patrolling on the roof.

They were two and a half meters tall, about a meter wide, with arms thicker than a human's waist, and a rough iron body even slightly bloated. Their backs and left arms were connected to wrinkled translucent tubes, filled with a spilling azure fog that seemed to be the source of their strength.