Thirty years the forest grew over the siege line. Moss took the armour.
A bird took the shoulder. Something gentle woke up where a weapon used to sleep.
Tonight, the old machines are moving again — and the forest has only one defender.
W A S D / ← ↑ ↓ →movemouseaim · hold to fire1 / 2 / 3recon · assault · artilleryFexamine the small things
transformation takes time. caught mid-change, a machine dies.