Karl hovered in the endless cobalt-and-cerulean void of the Nexus, staring at the incomplete skeletal blueprints of the mech's legs. They stretched in fragmented holographic outlines, faintly shimmering like ice over molten metal. For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine them whole — thigh, knee, ankle, foot — a perfect extension of his Rider and mech forms. But the moment he tried to materialize the first leg, the illusion shattered.
He exhaled sharply and extended the nanites from his Drive Regulator, trying to shape the thigh. It took form, smooth at first, but as soon as he tried to connect the knee joint, misalignment struck. Tiny micro-gears ground against each other, Vythra sparks bursting along the joint. The thigh collapsed halfway back into the void, leaving him blinking in surprise.
"Again…" he muttered, frustration already creeping in. He reset the nanite lattice and attempted a second time. The thigh stabilized longer, the knee seemed to align… but then the ankle refused to cooperate. It twisted unnaturally, gears clashing, sending sparks that crackled across the void floor.
Third attempt: the thigh wobbled, the knee shifted, and the foot hovered crookedly, unresponsive. Nanites collapsed mid-construction, dissolving into glowing fragments that floated aimlessly around him. He watched them fade and felt a wave of despair wash over him.
"This… can't be this hard… I've built better with my eyes closed…"
A faint whisper from the Trinity Core brushed his consciousness, the voices of his parents nudging him subconsciously — Ayaka's calm insistence, Itsuki's precise mechanical guidance. Karl clenched his jaw, letting their echoes steady him. Fourth attempt.
Fourth attempt: the thigh and knee finally aligned… for a split second. Then the ankle twisted sideways, sending the leg snapping apart as if it were testing him.
Fifth attempt: better, but still imperfect. The knee joint vibrated violently, and the foot hovered crookedly above the void floor, refusing to respond to his mental guidance.
Sixth attempt: partial success. The thigh and knee moved properly, but the ankle jittered uncontrollably, throwing the balance off completely. Every time he tried to flex the leg, the Vythra currents surged unevenly, causing sparks to burst from the joint.
"Why won't this work?!"
This time, the thigh and knee aligned, if only for a split second. The ankle betrayed him again, snapping sideways, as if testing his patience. Fifth attempt, sixth attempt — each marginally better but still far from stable. The joint jittered, the foot refused to lock into place, and every flex sent Vythra currents surging unevenly, sparks exploding from the unresolved torque.
Hours, maybe days, passed in the timeless expanse of the Nexus. Karl tried over and over, each sequence failing in new ways:
Attempt seven: the knee locked, but the foot refused to rotate, twisting unnaturally mid-air.
Attempt eight: ankle formed properly, but thigh misaligned, throwing the whole leg off balance.
Attempt nine: torque calibration perfect, but nanites kept slipping, destabilizing the whole limb.
Karl's, chest heaving, staring at the unfinished legs floating in the void. Sparks of frustration and flickering Vythra lit his vision.
"I… I can't… it's… it's… unstable… every time I try—"
He sank to his knees after the tenth attempt, chest heaving, beads of sweat tracing lines along his forehead despite the Nexus' lack of air. Sparks of Vythra flickered around his form, illuminating his frustration as the half-formed legs collapsed into shards again and again.
"Why… why won't you stay…?!" His voice cracked, echoed faintly in the void.
Each failure was not just mechanical. Each collapse was a reflection of his past — of sleepless nights spent trying to perfect the Erevos mech for vengeance, of his parents' absence, of the weight of expectation pressing on him. The Nexus, infinite and unforgiving, amplified every mistake, every miscalculation, every unsteady spark of Vythra.
He tried again, patiently this time. Slowly, painstakingly, he adjusted torque, realigned joints, recalibrated the Vythra flow. For every misaligned knee or unstable ankle, he learned something new. He remembered the subtle balance between rotational energy and emotional resonance, between nanite responsiveness and his own instinctive control.
Attempt after attempt, leg after leg, the nanites obeyed him a fraction longer. The thigh stayed aligned, the knee rotated correctly, the ankle jittered slightly but remained intact. It was imperfect, but it was progress. Karl exhaled slowly, letting the faint hum of the Trinity Core wash over him — his parents' silent guidance reminding him that persistence mattered more than perfection.
He started on the second leg, only to have it collapse multiple times: the thigh twisted, the knee refused to lock, the foot floated crookedly again. Each collapse gnawed at him, but he refused to give up. Sparks of frustration and flickering Vythra illuminated his face in the void.
Hours stretched to days. Days to weeks — though time in the Nexus was meaningless. Karl's entire consciousness became entwined with the trial, every fiber of his being focused on the incomplete legs. Every micro-error taught him more about balance, torque, and Vythra flow. Every misaligned joint burned lessons into his mind.
And yet, despite endless failure, Karl's resolve never wavered. Each collapse, each shattered leg, was a step closer to mastery. He learned to feel the nanites as extensions of his own limbs, to anticipate the pushback of Vythra currents, to merge emotional resonance from the Engine Soul with mechanical guidance from the Gear Drive.
And yet, despite the failure after failure, he refused to give up. Each collapse taught him more about balance, torque, and Vythra flow. Each iteration brought him closer, inch by painstaking inch, to mastery.
The legs were not finished — far from it — but Karl's resolve burned brighter than any spark of frustration in the Nexus.
The legs were still imperfect. Far from perfect. But Karl's determination burned brighter than the sparks flying from the failed assemblies. In the Nexus, under the watchful hum of the Trinity Core and the guiding whispers of his parents, he refused to stop — inch by painstaking inch, iteration by iteration, he was learning to create.
And somewhere in the void, the Nexus itself seemed to hum in quiet approval, the vast space bending gently around the glow of cobalt-and-cerulean Vythra.