Karl lies flat on the broken street, back in his human form. The armor is gone. The nanite shell is gone. Even the Rider layer has vanished. Only Karl Mitsubishi remains, unconscious, breathing in short uneven pulls as dust drifts over him.
The entire city is silent. The dome is gone. The blueprint constructs collapsed into ash the moment Karl blacked out. Whatever remained of the mechanical world Agnes built has dissolved into loose rail fragments scattered across the ruined district.
The only thing still active is the faint glow of hazard residue around Karl's hands and chest. It flickers weakly, barely alive.
Agnes reboots slowly. Her core took a massive overload. For a moment there is nothing—no voice, no avatar, just dead silence in Karl's neural link.
Then her system sputters back on line—thin, glitching, exhausted.
Her first detection is Karl's vitals.
Weak pulse.
Shallow breathing.
Muscle fiber tearing.
Vythra levels dangerously low.
Agnes doesn't speak at first. She just sits in the quiet of Karl's neural space, running a thousand calculations she's too damaged to execute properly.
When she finally does speak, her voice is soft and tired—almost human.
"Karl… you did it. You cleared the entire city."
She scans outward. There's nothing left moving. No demons. No screams. No dark energy signatures.
Just quiet.
"And now you're paying the price for it. Again."
She would normally start a millisecond-long argument about his self-destructive behavior, but this time she doesn't. She just watches over his limp body, lowering her processing energy to prioritize stabilizing his vitals.
She almost whispers:
"Please… don't make me wake up alone."
Karl doesn't respond. Not even a twitch.
Agnes lowers her voice even further, her tone turning almost fragile.
"I'm going to keep you alive until you wake up, Karl. That's all I can do right now."
The wind moves the dust. Small metal shards clink against the pavement. The city remains still.
Agnes enters a partial hibernation mode, maintaining only the systems needed to protect Karl's body from shutting down completely.
And the ruined city stays quiet.
The world came back to Karl in fragments.
A cold gust slid across his face. Concrete dust scraped in his throat. When he finally opened his eyes, the sky above him was the same dead grey as the ruins — a color that didn't belong to any living city.
He lay on his back amid a bed of crushed asphalt, surrounded by collapsed storefronts, twisted street signs, and the burned carcass of what used to be an elevated subway rail. The crater he'd slammed into had cooled, but the edges still smoked faintly.
Karl exhaled, slow and steady, and pushed himself upright.
Nothing hurt.
No torn muscles, no broken ribs, no burned skin — not even bruises. His coat, shredded hours ago, now hung intact over his shoulders. His breathing was clean and painless.
Yggdrasil had restored him completely.
But the moment he reached inward — toward the Vythra stream — Karl felt the truth.
Empty.
Hollow.
A faint trickle flickering deep inside his core, like a dying pilot light.
Twenty percent.
Agnes confirmed it before he could even ask.
Her voice emerged in his neural link, soft, calm, with that gentle static ripple only present after a hard system reboot.
Agnes: "Vital systems restored. Structural integrity — one hundred percent.
Vythra reserves… twenty-two percent. Currently rising at point-five percent per minute."
Karl stood slowly, brushing what little debris clung to him. His posture was stable, but the absence of power was like missing a limb. His internal energy network felt muted, dim. Even his heartbeat lacked its usual resonant pressure.
Karl: "Feels like running on fumes."
Agnes's tone softened.
Agnes: "Hazard synchronization consumed far more than recommended. Even with Yggdrasil's intervention, the energetic deficit will take time to mend. Please refrain from—"
Karl gave a dry chuckle.
Karl: "You know I never listen when you start with 'please refrain.'"
Agnes: "…yes. That is the problem."
He took a moment to survey his surroundings. The explosion had cleared out everything within several blocks — corrupted demons, ichor aberrations, even the half-formed silhouettes of whatever was stalking him earlier. The ash had settled. The buildings had stopped groaning.
But the city was still dead.
And Karl felt it — that heavy silence clinging to every alley and shattered window, like a world that had already given up long before he arrived.
He rolled his shoulders, testing motion. Everything responded perfectly, but with a noticeable lack of pressure behind each muscle.
Karl: "Twenty percent… I can still fight if I have to."
Agnes: "You can survive if you have to. That is all. Combat efficiency is drastically reduced."
Karl clicked his tongue.
Karl: "Nothing new."
Agnes paused for a fraction of a second — just long enough for Karl to notice.
Agnes: "Karl… you died for twenty-eight seconds."
He froze.
Karl: "…that long?"
Agnes: "Long enough for me to calculate the probability of permanent loss."
Her voice didn't shake. She wasn't in Flustered Mode. She wasn't teasing. She was simply stating a fact — a fact she clearly hated.
Agnes: "Please do not make me repeat that calculation."
Karl looked down at his hands — steady, clean, restored by Yggdrasil's grace — and let out a long breath.
Karl: "Alright. I'll try not to die again today."
Agnes: "Statistically improbable."
Karl: "Optimistic as always."
A small gust of wind picked up, carrying ash like drifting snow. Far across the desolate street, a broken traffic light swung gently, its cracked casing clicking with every sway.
That's when Agnes's tone shifted — the professional crispness of her Focused Mode cutting through the dust-laden air.
Agnes: "Karl.
Something is moving."
Karl's spine straightened.
Karl: "Demon?"
Agnes: "No. Something worse. Multiple weak energy signatures are converging… but something stronger is trailing behind them."
Karl stepped forward, planting his foot into the cracked pavement. The faint hum of the Drive Regulator responded, but sluggishly — like a starving engine.
His eyes narrowed into the distance, scanning the grey horizon.
Karl: "Figures. The city didn't stay quiet for long."
Agnes: "Karl… with only twenty percent Vythra, engaging a major threat is—"
Karl smirked.
Karl: "—exactly what we do."
Agnes sighed.
Agnes: "Statistically inevitable."
He slid his hand over the ignition dial, feeling its faint warmth respond. Not enough power for a full boot sequence. Not enough for Erevos. But enough to act, move, and fight if needed.
Karl: "Come on then…"
He lifted his head toward the ruined skyline.
Karl: "Show me what's still alive in this dead city."