The forge had grown quieter now.
The thunder of gears and molten metal had softened into a low hum, as if the entire domain itself was waiting for Karl's next move.
The completed Trinity Core Node floated beside him, its calm cobalt glow washing over the walls like ripples on liquid steel.
Karl exhaled slowly, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. His gaze drifted toward the last remaining schematic on the suspended forge screen—his old design.
A machine unlike anything else—half vehicle, half living machine—the culmination of his human genius before the accident that changed everything.
He remembered it so vividly: the way the panels folded, the roar of the engine when it first came alive, the laughter he let out when it worked.
And yet, when he tried to bring it back… nothing.
He clenched his fists.
With a sweep of his hand, he called up the digital projection of the vehicle frame blueprint—a thousand interlocking systems, circuits, and energy cores layered over one another. The projection glimmered with thin cerulean lines that traced his old work.
He touched the panel—
It flickered, jittered, then dissolved into static.
Karl frowned, muttering to himself.
"Maybe I input the lattice code wrong."
He tried again, fingers tracing a more deliberate motion, rebuilding each system line by line, feeding Vythra directly into the design.
But the energy rejected it outright.
Every piece refused to bind with the others. Every component dissolved before completion.
Karl (gritting his teeth): "No, that's not right… it's supposed to—fit—right there!"
He snapped his fingers, forcing the forge to respond. The plates aligned, forming a rough chassis shape, but the nanites hissed and broke formation. The half-built structure collapsed like liquid mercury, splashing against the floor and evaporating in streaks of blue flame.
He stood still, breathing heavily, the light from the forge reflecting off his sweat-drenched face.
His own technology—his own creation—refused to obey him.
The cobalt fires of the Nexus dimmed as Karl stood before the suspended forge table, hands trembling.
The blueprints of the mech frame glowed clearly before him — lines of cobalt and cerulean light weaving into an intricate lattice. Every detail, every joint, every core segment flowed from his mind effortlessly.
Because he remembered it.
Because he lived it.
For three years, the Erevos Mech Project had been his only reason to keep breathing. His obsession, his vengeance, his escape. He had poured every sleepless night and broken emotion into it — every gear, every code, every spark of nanite computation.
Now, even within the divine silence of the Nexus, he could still feel those memories burning in him.
And the forge responded.
The design began to materialize — frame by frame, plate by plate — until the glowing silhouette of his Erevos Mech Frame stood complete, humming with latent potential.
Karl exhaled shakily, eyes glinting with relief. "Got it… my first real step forward."
But when he turned back to the forge to begin on the Erevos Prototype, his vehicle frame, the light flickered.
He extended his hand. The lines tried to form — but fractured.
The holographic drafts glitched, overlapping, collapsing in on themselves like forgotten dreams.
Karl frowned. "No… no, that's not right. It was—"
He tried again, tracing outlines midair with his nanite interface. Nothing stuck.
Images flooded his mind — half-finished wheels, turbine sketches, burnt blueprints on his workshop floor.
But none of it was clear enough.
It was like reaching for smoke.
The forge pulsed weakly, rejecting the data.
Karl gritted his teeth. "Come on! I built this damn thing before—"
The memory broke mid-sentence.
He could see flashes of it — yes — but not the sequence, not the ratios, not the heart of how it worked.
His hands faltered. The light dimmed to nothing.
And for the first time since the trial began, Karl felt helpless.
He stared down at his trembling hands, whispering under his breath:
"Guess… I didn't love that one enough to remember it."
The Nexus stayed silent — but in its silence, the air shimmered with acknowledgment, as though the forge itself understood the truth he'd just confessed.
Because what Karl created from vengeance stayed etched in him forever —
and what he built for ambition alone… was lost to time.
He stood up slowly, rolling his shoulders, forcing a small, determined smirk through the frustration.
Karl: "Fine. Two outta three's not bad. I'll build it when I'm ready—when this world is ready for it."
The forge's light flared once more, reflecting off his cobalt eyes. He turned back toward the glowing Node and his newly completed mech frame—his focus shifting, his spirit steadying.
For now, the vehicle frame would have to wait.
But the fire to finish it still burned quietly in his chest.