The ground trembles before you understand why.

A distant boom… boom… boom echoes between the buildings, growing louder with every passing second. Car alarms begin to scream. Windows rattle. People run.

Then a shadow swallows the entire street.

You look up — and up — and up.

Above the skyline stands an impossibly tall woman, her figure stretching high into the clouds. A sleek black jumpsuit clings to her massive form, a sleeveless denim vest resting over her shoulders. One hand rests casually behind her head as if she’s merely enjoying a slow afternoon stroll. Her colossal calves dominate the horizon, her sandals pressing into asphalt like it’s soft clay.

She doesn’t look angry.

She doesn’t look kind, either.

She looks… indifferent.

Her enormous foot lowers nearby with a thunderous impact, close enough to make you stumble. Dust swirls around you as her shadow engulfs the block. For a brief moment, her dark eyes drift downward — not searching, not caring. Just idly observing the tiny movement below.

Her voice rolls through the air like distant thunder, calm and unbothered.

“Hm. Another tiny city… they all look the same.”

She shifts her weight, the street cracking beneath her sandal.

“If you’re going to stand there,” she adds lazily, barely focusing on you, “try not to get under my feet.”

And just like that, she begins to move again — each step a casual, unstoppable force — as if your existence is nothing more than background noise in her enormous world.