The wind screamed through the ruins.
New York — or what was left of it — stretched in all directions, a wasteland of corroded steel and fractured glass. The skyline that once pierced the heavens was now broken, jagged, skeletal.
Kurogane Karl stood alone where New York once thrived — the same place he had died two centuries ago. Only the shape of memories remained now: towers reduced to hollow husks, the streets overgrown with rusted vines of nanite decay. The air was thin, bitter, metallic. He was on a cracked overpass, watching the dying embers drift across the horizon.
Two hundred years.
That's how long it had been since the "Night of a Thousand Screams."
He exhaled slowly, the sound of breath catching in the hollow mask of silence. "...Still here, huh?"
A faint pulse shimmered along his right arm — nanites stirring beneath the skin. Then, with a flick of his wrist, the air distorted. His Drive Regulator unfolded along his spine like blooming steel petals, locking into place with a familiar hiss.
Agnes's voice chimed immediately, bright, teasing, and far too cheerful for the desolation around them:
"Are you ready~? Start your engine~!!!"
Karl cracked a tired smile. "Heh. Still gives me chills every time."
The Rider Frame expanded across his body — black-and-cobalt plates sealing over his limbs, circuits flaring with electric light. The moment it finished, the nanites rippled outward, reshaping themselves into a travel kit across his back and a long, armored coat that flowed like smoke in the cold wind.
"Ooooh~ practical and stylish~ You still know how to make an entrance~"
Karl rolled his eyes lightly. "I'm just making use of what's left. Let's see if Providence HQ's still standing."
He began walking — each step crunching over ash and glass, his boots leaving faint imprints on the fractured pavement. The closer he got, the clearer the scars became: melted girders twisted like vines, half-collapsed towers frozen mid-fall, and the great bronze sigil of Providence — Headquarters.
The main gates still stood. Rusted. Half-buried. But intact.
When he reached the outskirts of the old government compound, the world grew still. Providence Headquarters — once a proud fortress of bureaucracy and survival — now lay half-buried under layers of collapsed concrete and rust. The gates were sealed, twisted by time and heat. No power. No life.
Karl brushed his hand along the metal surface. The rust flaked away like ash. "You've seen better days."
"Mmm~ she's aged… poorly~" Agnes teased. "Kinda like you before your reboot~"
He smirked faintly. "You're not wrong."
The nanites on his arm unfolded again, forming a mechanical brace that dug into the seams of the gate. Sparks erupted as he forced the hinges apart. The massive slab of metal screeched in protest but eventually gave way, toppling inward with a dull, earth-shaking thud.
The heavy doors creaked open, releasing a gust of stale, recycled air.
Inside, the world was frozen in time. Terminals sat dormant under layers of dust. Holographic projectors blinked weakly, looping corrupted footage of long-dead researchers. It smelled of ozone and silence.
Inside was darkness.
No lights. No hum. Just silence and rot.
Karl switched his visor to low-light mode. The HUD flickered as he stepped inside — scanning, mapping, identifying debris.
"Radiation minimal~ Air toxicity at 3.7 parts per mil~ You could technically breathe this, but I wouldn't recommend it~"
"Noted." He reached up, retracting the helmet back into his collar. "Just need to find what's left of the ration vault."
He moved through the corridors — cracked walls, scorched floors, old signs half-torn from their hinges. The Providence logo — a faded crest of a winged torch — still clung to the walls.
He walked toward the central atrium — what used to be the heart of Providence. The emergency generator had somehow survived. It hummed softly when Karl flipped the manual switch. A few lights flickered on, revealing rows of ration lockers and preserved storage crates.
After a few turns, he found the storage sector. The reinforced crates, labeled "CIVIL SUPPLY MODULE — CLASS C," were scattered but mostly intact. Karl knelt beside one, summoning a nanite spike to pry it open.
Inside, he found sealed ration packs — dusty, but still vacuum-stable.
"Well~ look at that~ centuries later and your food stash still looks edible~"
"Oh~ jackpot~" Agnes sang. "Dinner for two~?"
Karl smirked as he inspected the label. "More like one very desperate engineer."
"Freeze-dried tech nutrition," Karl muttered, kneeling to pry open a crate. "Built to last centuries. Like me, apparently."
He pulled out packets marked PX-Ω Nutrient Compound and inspected them. The expiration date read 2121.
He smirked. "Still better than cafeteria food."
He tossed a few into his nanite satchel, then stood, surveying the rest of the bunker. Everything else — terminals, records, even the emergency beacon — was beyond saving.
And then he saw it.
At the far end of the main hall, half-buried in dust and ivy, stood a memorial plaque slowly, he turned toward the far corner of the room — where a single memorial plaque hung on the wall.
The inscription was faint, but still legible under his light.
He wiped the surface clean with his glove. The letters beneath made him freeze.
"To Karl Kurogane — The Iron Guardian.
Who burned so that others could live."
Karl stood still for a long time, saying nothing. The only sound was the low hum of the generator. His reflection shimmered faintly in the tarnished metal.
Then, quietly, he said, "Guess they remembered me after all," he muttered.
Agnes spoke softer now, her tone losing its usual lilt.
"You're the reason they survived, Karl. You gave them a chance to rebuild. That… counts for something~"
He didn't reply. He just stared at the plaque a little longer, then turned away.
He glanced up at her projection, eyes tired but kind. "Thanks, Agnes. But I didn't do it for glory."
"I know~ you did it because you're terrible at dying~"
That made him laugh — a small, genuine sound in the hollow facility.
He gathered what he could, sealing the packs carefully. Then he turned to the cracked window overlooking the desolate skyline.
"Tokyo's still far."
"About… six thousand miles~ give or take~"
He raised an eyebrow. "That's walking distance for someone like me."
"Oh, of course~ Mister 'I'll just cross continents because I feel nostalgic~'"
"Let's move."
"Ooooh~ planning a nostalgia trip~?"
He chuckled under his breath. "Something like that. If the Erevos Prototype made it to Japan… I need to find it."
"Tracking systems offline~" Agnes chimed, mock sighing. "So… we're doing this the old-fashioned way~? Walking from ruin to ruin~?"
Karl smirked, his eyes flickering blue behind the visor.
"Yeah. We walk. I need to see what's left of the world anyway."
He turned toward the setting sun — the wreckage of Manhattan glowing faintly in the distance — and began the long trek eastward.
Behind him, the ruins of Providence HQ stood quiet again. Only the faint shimmer of nanite dust marked the place where the Iron Guardian had once fallen… and risen again.
The wind picked up again, carrying the faint hum of machinery buried deep under the ruins. Karl didn't look back.
Each step echoed against the broken concrete as he headed east, toward the shattered ports — toward Japan.
And though Agnes hummed idly beside him, making sarcastic comments about his "terrible route planning" and "heroic hiking obsession," he didn't respond.
Because deep down, Karl knew this journey wasn't about survival.
It was about finding the last piece of himself that still existed — somewhere, waiting in the ruins of Tokyo.