The Nexus pulsed again.
A thunderous vibration rippled through the void, echoing in Karl's chest like a second heartbeat. The torso's skeletal frame floated before him, unfinished — a cage of glowing ribs and woven conduits, glimmering faintly under the cosmic haze.
Now came the part he both dreaded and respected — the armor plating.
The reinforcement layer. The exoskeletal armor that would turn his fragile lattice of design into something resembling a body. Something that could stand the strain of divine energy. Something alive.
He raised both hands, and the nanites stirred like a swarm of metallic locusts.
They coiled upward, forming ribbons of light around him. Each filament shimmered a different shade of azure — cobalt, admiral, navy — reflecting the hues of his soul.
"Compression ratio: ninety-eight percent," he whispered. "Layer density… eight-point-six. Material form… adaptive steel-weave."
The nanites obeyed.
A shimmering panel began to form over the mech's ribcage, each plate sliding into position like muscle fibers over bone. The air hummed with creation — sharp, precise, electric.
He moved carefully, his gestures deliberate.
Each flick of his fingers drew a new segment into existence: abdominal plates, lateral guards, spinal reinforcements.
But the structure twitched.
A sudden ripple surged through the plating, twisting it out of alignment.
The entire left side of the torso warped, the panels bending inward as if something beneath them was breathing too fast.
Karl clenched his jaw. "Don't you start now."
He reached out, palms glowing, and tried to correct the misalignment — forcing the plates back into place with sheer willpower.
The nanites resisted. The armor pulsed back at him like it had a heartbeat of its own.
"You're not alive yet," he hissed through his teeth, sweat forming along his brow despite the unreal temperature of the Nexus. "Don't pretend you are."
The plating snapped.
A jagged shockwave split the midsection — tearing open the newly-formed panels with a metallic scream. Fragments scattered across the void, dissolving into nothingness before they even hit the floor.
Karl stood still. Breathing hard. Hands trembling slightly.
He let out a shaky laugh. "Okay… you win that round."
He exhaled, recalibrated the diagram, and summoned a new schematic. The holographic layout flickered, showing fault lines, energy flow patterns, and pressure ratios that made his head spin.
"You were too thin," he murmured. "Not enough compression. Reinforcement needs to flex with the core, not against it…"
He redrafted the layering algorithm.
Nanites responded, reforming the chest and abdomen with smoother transitions.
The new plates interlocked perfectly — for about three seconds.
Then the hum rose again.
A high-pitched resonance — like glass straining against itself — built up within the frame. Karl turned sharply, eyes wide.
"No, not again—"
BOOM.
The explosion this time was contained — mostly.
It threw him back several meters, his boots scraping against the glowing floor as nanite dust fluttered around him. He coughed, chest heaving, and raised a gloved hand to wipe the residue from his visor.
"That's two," he muttered darkly. "You're getting creative now."
He crouched low, pressing a palm to the floating fragments. The nanites swirled, showing him microscopic errors — structural inconsistencies, overstressed linkage points, temperature variance. Tiny imperfections, magnified a thousandfold by the Nexus's unforgiving physics.
"It's the harmonics," he realized. "The plating's too stiff. It's rejecting the torso's pulse rhythm."
He sighed. "Fine. You want rhythm? Let's give you rhythm."
He shut his eyes and listened.
The Nexus wasn't silent. It sang.
A low, steady tone thrummed beneath everything — the pulse of creation, the same sound that resonated in his own chest when he merged with the Drive Core.
He matched his breathing to it. Slow. Methodical.
The nanites began to move in sync with his pulse.
Layer by layer, the armor reformed — this time not by brute force, but by resonance.
Plates curved naturally over the ribs, locking into place with soft metallic sighs. Each seam fused perfectly with the next, forming something closer to an organic body than a mechanical one.
Karl's brow furrowed. He could feel the energy flow through his fingertips — a current of life, balanced and gentle.
He almost smiled.
Until he noticed the left flank.
A distortion rippled beneath the armor — faint, but growing. The panels began to tremble, their glow flickering like a dying star.
"No, no, no!"
He lunged forward, grabbing the edge of the plating with both hands. Energy crackled between his palms as he tried to stabilize the pulse manually. His arms trembled under the strain.
"Stay with me! Don't—!"
The torso convulsed violently.
The resonance shattered. The plates exploded outward like a burst of shrapnel.
Karl was hurled backward, skidding across the metallic surface. The impact forced the air from his lungs — or whatever passed for air here. His armor dimmed, his hands shaking uncontrollably.
He lay there for a long moment, staring up at the swirling constellations of blueprints above. His chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths.
"How many times," he whispered bitterly, "do I have to fail before you stop fighting me?"
No answer came — only the slow, patient hum of the Nexus.
He forced himself to sit up, grimacing at the ache in his joints. He'd built hundreds of machines, engines, exosuits, drones — but this? This was different. This one breathed back. It wasn't just metal. It was a reflection of him.
Every flaw in the design mirrored a flaw in his own heart.
Every failure was personal.
He wiped a streak of energy residue off his cheek, stood, and summoned the nanites again.
They hesitated this time — as if unsure.
Karl's voice softened.
"You don't have to be perfect yet," he said quietly. "You just have to hold."
The plating began to form once more.
Slower. Calmer.
The structure shimmered in gentle hues — cobalt over navy, navy over azure — until the torso gleamed faintly in the void, imperfect yet undeniably alive.
Karl exhaled, sweat dripping from his chin. His body trembled, but his eyes burned with quiet satisfaction.
"Finally… a start."