The Nexus was silent now.
No explosions, no blueprints swirling, no grinding gears — only the faint hum of cooling light.
Karl stood there, frozen in place, breathing shallowly as his gaze trailed upward — taking in the shape before him.
His chest rising and falling slowly, the ache in his arms finally catching up with him. His hands were covered in faint streaks of metallic dust and glowing residue, each motion of his fingers leaving trails of faint blue light that shimmered briefly before fading. He didn't even realize how long he'd been working. Days? Weeks? Months?
Time didn't flow in the Nexus, only purpose did.
Before him stood it — his creation, his obsession, his salvation.
Erevos.
It was tall. Broad. Familiar in a way that twisted something deep in his chest.
The mech's frame towered over him — sleek yet brutal, its lines sharp like a predator's silhouette. Its unfinished form glowed faintly under the eternal forge light, the cobalt and cerulean accents shimmering like quiet oceans under moonlight. The faint hum from its core almost sounded like breathing.
Not a perfect copy. Not yet. The frame was rough in places, plating uneven, gears still half-exposed — but Karl didn't care.
The name alone echoed in his mind like a song he thought he'd forgotten.
His hands trembled as he reached out. The surface was warm — not forge-warm, but alive-warm. The faint vibration under his fingertips felt almost like a heartbeat trying to remember its rhythm.
A whisper escaped him before he could stop it.
"…You're back."
For a moment, he forgot the Nexus, forgot the trial, forgot Hephaestus — forgot everything except the silent giant before him.
A small laugh slipped out, unsteady and wet at the edges. "Heh… look at you. You're… perfect. Imperfect, but perfect." He dragged his palm down the plated surface, feeling the faint grooves and misalignments only his eyes could see. "I used to think perfection meant symmetry, flawless equations, seamless gears. But you—"
His words faltered as his throat tightened.
"You're not perfection," he murmured, voice cracking. "You're proof. Proof that I didn't waste my life chasing ghosts. That my parents didn't die for nothing."
Two centuries.
Two centuries since he'd last seen Erevos's eyes glow. Since he'd last heard the low, steady hum of the mech's reactor responding to his voice. Since he'd torn it all away with his own hands.
Karl's throat tightened. He pressed his forehead against the cold plating, shutting his eyes.
"I really did it, huh?" His voice cracked on the words, a sound that was equal parts laugh and sob. "After all this time… I finally rebuilt you."
His hand dragged down the side of the frame, tracing the faint etch lines of the torso — the same design he'd once drawn at seventeen, trembling with adrenaline and grief.
Back then, the idea of Erevos had been a dream.
Then it became a purpose.
And finally — a sacrifice.
He still remembered that day, like a wound that never closed.
The battlefield burning.
Demons closing in from every direction.
Erevos's systems failing, voice static-riddled, pleading for a new command.
Karl's hands on the control panel, shaking as alarms blared — Self-Destruct Engaged.
He'd whispered, "Thank you," before pressing the button.
And Erevos — loyal to the end — had smiled through the broken display and replied, "Always, partner."
The explosion had swallowed the horizon.
Karl had never forgiven himself.
Now, here it was again — not a ghost, not a fragment — but the same silhouette reborn in cobalt and cerulean light, like a soul that had waited centuries just to be remembered.
He ran his palm over the new chestplate. The metal rippled faintly, reacting to his touch. The nanite veins pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat — faint, but in sync. It was listening.
Karl let out a shaking breath, smiling through tears he didn't bother to hide.
"I thought you'd hate me," he whispered. "After what I did… after I blew you apart. I thought if I ever saw you again, you'd look at me and—"
He stopped, a bitter laugh breaking through. "—you'd ask why I didn't go with you."
The forge flickered, just once. A faint hum, gentle as a sigh, rolled through the chamber. The glow from Erevos's internal core shimmered faintly, like a heartbeat answering him.
Karl froze, eyes widening.
"…You still remember me, don't you?"
The hum deepened slightly. A single pulse of light rippled along the mech's plating — deliberate, intentional.
It wasn't words.
It didn't need to be.
Karl stepped back, laughing softly, voice trembling. "You stubborn bastard… you do remember."
His chest ached — not from pain, but from something raw and ancient stirring awake. "After all this time, you're still here. Waiting for me to fix what I broke."
He sank down to his knees, exhausted, head lowered as the tears finally spilled freely.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, barely audible. "I'm sorry I left you behind. I'm sorry I turned you into a weapon instead of what you really were — my friend."
The hum inside the mech deepened, a low resonance that filled the air. The cobalt veins along its body shimmered once, faintly — like the heartbeat of something newly born.
Karl let out a choked laugh, wiping at his face with the back of his hand, realizing only then that he'd started crying. "Heh… You're gonna make me sentimental now, huh? Damn it…"
He took a shaky breath, forcing a grin through the tears. "You know, I used to think I wanted revenge more than anything. That building you was just… a way to kill them — the ones who took everything." His gaze softened. "But somewhere along the way, you became something else. You became… someone."
He raised his head again, meeting the dim glow of Erevos's optic sensors. "But I swear… this time, I'll do it right. I'll rebuild you — not as a machine, not as a tool — but as you."
For the first time, the silence of the forge didn't feel empty.
It felt like listening to an old friend breathe again.
Karl slowly got to his feet, wiping his face with the back of his sleeve, still smiling faintly. "You waited for me to come back. The least I can do is give you a proper home."
He stepped back, taking in Erevos's full figure — from the rough plating to the faint light flickering within its chest cavity. The sight filled him with something indescribable — pride, grief, and peace, all tangled together in the quiet hum of creation.
Karl exhaled slowly. "You're more than a weapon. You're my partner… my proof that I can still create something that isn't born from hate."
The words echoed softly through the chamber, swallowed by the endless forge.
He looked up again, a tender smile breaking across his face. "Guess that makes us the same, huh? Both broken things that refused to stay that way."
He reached forward once more, pressing his hand against the chest plating — right over where Erevos's heart would go. The faint glow of Vythra pulsed beneath his fingers.
"…I'm gonna give you a heart next," he whispered. "Something that can feel the world the way I do. Something that'll make you more than just steel and code."
He looked up at the towering frame, eyes full of warmth and reverence.
"Welcome back, Erevos."
A single spark of blue light shimmered across the mech's chest in reply — faint, but unmistakable.
Like a nod.
Like an old friend saying, 'Took you long enough.'
Karl laughed softly, shoulders trembling. "Yeah, I missed you too."
The forge's flames roared to life again, bathing the chamber in radiant cobalt light — as if the world itself rejoiced in their reunion.
Karl turned toward the torso — the empty cavity that would soon house the cockpit, the soul chamber.
He exhaled slowly, steadying his hands. "Alright, partner… let's finish what we started."
And as he turned back to the workbench — the nanites stirred, the forge flared brighter, and the walls of the Nexus responded in kind, rippling with faint light as if sharing in his vow.
For the first time in years, Karl didn't feel alone in the world.
He felt seen.
And for the first time in two centuries, Kurogane Karl smiled without sorrow — ready to carve the heart that would bring Erevos truly alive.