Killy walks through a city so vast and rotted it stops being architecture and becomes geology. The OVA doesn't explain itself to you, doesn't slow down, doesn't care if you're lost, it just renders every grimy concrete face and rusted structural beam with enough texture that you feel the weight of billions of tons pressing down. This is manga paneling converted directly into movement, atmosphere made tangible before most studios knew CGI could do anything but look plastic.
Killy moves through an endless vertical labyrinth of steel and concrete, a solitary figure in a mega-structure so vast that up and down lose all meaning. The city stretches infinitely in every direction, its countless interconnected levels forming a world where the line between architecture and living tissue has completely dissolved. Organic matter grows through mechanical systems. Machines have become flesh. No one remembers how it all began or what lies at the bottom, or if there even is a bottom. Armed with a weapon of impossible destructive power, Killy searches this suffocating maze for something or someone specific, though his purpose remains deliberately obscure. He encounters scattered human settlements clinging to survival, mutated creatures born from the city's corruption, and zones where reality itself seems unstable. The atmosphere is relentlessly oppressive: a sci-fi nightmare rendered in bleak grays and industrial decay, where isolation and mystery hang heavier than any physical weight. This OVA functions as a visual prologue to a much larger world, offering fragments of lore while maintaining an air of intentional ambiguity. It appeals to viewers who prefer atmosphere and worldbuilding over explanation, who find beauty in alienation.