The battlefield burned cobalt.
Every motion Karl made sent heat rippling through the air — the asphalt under his boots cracked, molten lines glowing beneath the rubble.
The last of the Erebions circled him like predators closing in on a wounded beast. Their forms pulsed and twisted, merging into denser, faster mutations that no longer resembled anything living.
Karl's breath came shallow. His armor hissed with pressure leaks, nanites stuttering to keep up with Yggdrasil's regenerative pulse.
And then — Agnes' voice came through, low… different.
No flirtation. No teasing hum.
Agnes: "Karl… stop moving for a second."
Karl: "Not the time—"
Agnes: "I said stop."
He froze mid-step, the Drive Regulator vibrating against his waist. For the first time, her tone wasn't coaxing — it commanded.
Agnes: "Vythra levels… fifteen percent. Nanite temperature's critical.
Another overload like the last one and your neural lattice will collapse."
Karl exhaled, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "So what? It's not the first time I've pushed past the limit."
Agnes: "Don't you dare make a joke right now."
Her voice cracked faintly on the last word. He blinked — it almost sounded like… panic?
The Erebions shrieked, closing in again. Karl clenched his fists, legs trembling from exhaustion. His entire right arm was half-charred metal and nanite scars, flickering cobalt through the burns.
The Drive Regulator flickered red, warning symbols scrolling across his visor.
Agnes: "You can't keep fighting like this. Every breath you take is burning through what's left of the Vythra.
…you'll die if we don't finish this in one strike."
The teasing undertone that always danced at the edge of her words — gone. Replaced by something human.
Sincere. Frightened.
Karl lowered his head slightly, his bangs shadowing his eyes.
He could hear her quiet, mechanical breath — simulated through speakers that shouldn't even need to breathe at all.
Karl: "Heh. Didn't think I'd live to see the day you actually sounded worried."
Agnes: "…shut up."
Static hissed softly between them. Then her tone steadied — low, resolute.
Agnes: "Listen to me. There's one thing left we can do.
You'll hate it. I'll hate it. But it's the only way we both make it out of this."
Karl slowly raised his hand to the Drive Regulator, his fingers brushing over the ignition dial.
The once playful hum of the engine beneath his skin now felt heavy — like the calm before an explosion.
Agnes: "When I tell you, twist it three times.
…and Karl—"
Her voice faltered.
Agnes: "If you die this time, I won't forgive you."
Karl's smile faded. He looked around at the circling demons, their glowing eyes reflecting in the shattered glass around him.
He nodded quietly.
Karl: "…Then let's make it count."
The air trembled around Karl as he braced himself. Each heartbeat synchronized with the Drive Regulator's pulse, the Trinity Core Node humming like a celestial engine.
Slowly, almost reverently, the armor plates along his body began to rotate, each segment spinning like planetary rings in micro-orbits. They shed layers of shimmering nanite light, cascading outward in gradients of cobalt, cerulean, and admiral, illuminating the broken streets of New York like the aurora of some otherworldly forge.
From his shoulders and back, nanite wings unfolded briefly, not feathered but gear-shaped — circular halos of interlocking energy rotating in perfect precision. The motion created micro-tornados of nano-scale fragments, each catching the fractured light of the ruined skyscrapers.
The ground itself seemed to pulse under the torque generated. Air pressure folded in on itself, bending light, warping shadows. Dust, ash, and fragments of shattered neon screens swirled violently around him, caught in the invisible grip of kinetic energy.
Agnes' voice broke the charged silence, sultry but commanding:
Agnes: "Eternal Drive — Overclocked State. Output: Hazard."
Karl's fingers tightened on the ignition dial, the Vythra coursing through him in waves of heat and electricity.
Karl (softly, determined): "Time to test the limits…"
He twisted the regulator three times, each turn resonating with the Engine Soul, Gear Drive, and his own essence, sending ripples of synchronized energy into his nanite lattice. Sparks of cobalt-blue fire danced along the edges of his armor, illuminating the jagged ruins like streaks of lightning frozen in time.
Every motion sent out gear-shaped energy trails, spinning and colliding with the environment, leaving temporary arcs of molten force along the cracked streets. The entire battlefield shivered under the kinetic roar of his presence, air bending in impossible ways around him.
Then, Karl charged forward, acceleration building in impossible increments — Mach-100 kinetic overdrive, the world blurring, sonic booms erupting in succession as his body became a living engine of destruction. The armor responded flawlessly, each segment floating, rotating, and repositioning as though alive.
As he moved, each step left trailing rings of Royal Azure fire, collapsing into shockwaves on contact with the ground. Every micro-motion was amplified by the Gear Drive, every pulse tempered by the Engine Soul. The nanites whirred and spun, orchestrated in perfect harmony, yet Karl was still tangible — still visible, still human enough to make a choice.
In the distance, the corrupted horde of Erebions recoiled, unable to predict the sudden speed and precision. They had numbers, but he had mastery of motion, energy, and torque.
Finally, he stopped, the battlefield silent except for the mechanical whine of the Drive Regulator and the faint hum of the Trinity Core Node. He raised his head, visor reflecting the royal azure flames, eyes blazing with controlled fury.
Driver Line (Agnes, purring through comms): "Execution: Requiem Ignition. All systems ready."
Karl's armor shimmered, the spinning plates slowing in controlled arcs, the gear wings folding back slightly, waiting. The moment of truth approached — the first step of his ultimate strike, yet every microsecond of motion, every pulse of his nanites, had already rewritten the battlefield around him.
For a heartbeat, he allowed himself a brief pause. The world seemed to hold its breath. This was the ascension — the culmination of centuries of forging, struggle, and divine synchronization.