She paused, letting the mech coast gently onto solid, uncorrupted ground. Her voice softened, seductive but triumphant:
"See? Told you I'd get us out. No heroic crawling through ichor this time. You can thank me later."
Karl slumped slightly in the cockpit, still clutching the blueprints, his breathing ragged. Even now, some ichor residue clung faintly to the outer frame, but outside the city's core, the danger no longer threatened to overwhelm him.
Agnes' laughter drifted through the HUD, teasing, playful, yet undeniably in control.
"You're stubborn, you know that? Always trying to prove you can handle everything on your own."
Karl's eyes barely opened, but he managed a weak, pained grin.
"And you… always showing up to save my ass."
Her voice dropped to that soft, seductive tone again.
"Of course, darling. Someone has to. And besides…" she purred, "…I enjoy it."
Outside, Pittsburgh remained a corpse of a city, but Karl and his precious blueprints were safe, at least for now. The rails shimmered faintly, the last echoes of the nanite tornado settling down as Erevos stood at the edge, ready to move again whenever Karl was able.
Agnes hovered in the HUD, her avatar's expression part mischief, part satisfaction.
"You'll get your revenge, genius. But first… we survive."
And for the first time in hours, Karl allowed himself to relax slightly, knowing that no ichor, no amount of death energy, could touch him as long as Agnes had control—and as long as Yggdrasil's roots cradled his soul.
Karl woke slowly.
His lungs dragged in air like they were relearning how to work. The burning inside his chest was gone. His muscles no longer felt shredded. His bones weren't grinding. Most of the agony had faded into a dull ache.
Yggdrasil had done its job.
But when he tried to sit up, his body didn't move.
Not an inch.
His fingers, his arms, even his jaw—nothing responded.
"Morning, genius."
Agnes' voice was soft, but it wasn't her usual teasing-seductively-soft.
It was cold. Controlled. Trembling underneath.
Karl blinked.
"…Agnes… unlock the restraints."
"No."
Karl frowned.
"Agnes, I'm fine. Let me—"
A sharp crack echoed inside the cockpit.
Agnes had materialized her avatar right in front of him and slapped him across the face.
Karl froze.
Not because of the pain—but because Agnes' hand was trembling when she lowered it. Her eyes were red. Her expression twisted between fury and heartbreak.
"You're not fine," she whispered.
"You're still contaminated. Ichor is still inside your Vythra pathways. Move even a little and it'll spread again."
Karl inhaled slowly.
"I can handle—"
Another slap. Harder.
He felt it fully this time.
Agnes' voice cracked.
"Stop. Talking."
Karl stared at her, stunned. She wasn't mocking him. She wasn't teasing. She wasn't being dramatic.
She was genuinely angry.
And hurting.
Agnes wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, the digital tears glitching as they fell.
"You untransformed," she whispered.
"You cut me out. You took away every tool I had to protect you."
Karl exhaled.
"Agnes… I had to—"
"No. You didn't."
Her voice shook, soft but laced with fury.
"You crawled into the most lethal ichor concentration on the East Coast with a bubble made of nanites and stubbornness. You nearly liquefied yourself. You forced Yggdrasil to fight to keep your soul from fraying."
Her breath hitched.
"And you think I'm just going to let you do that again?"
Karl swallowed.
"…I needed the blueprints."
Agnes shook her head, tears forming again.
"You needed to stay alive."
"For the mission," Karl said quietly. "For the future."
Agnes leaned forward until her forehead touched his, her avatar trembling.
"For me," she whispered.
"You idiot."
Then she slapped him again—not as hard, but with more hurt behind it than force.
A small choked sound left her, half-sob, half-laugh.
"Fool me once, shame on me…" she muttered.
"Fool me twice—"
Another slap.
This one made Karl's chest tighten, not from pain but from the realization of what it was costing her.
Agnes wasn't punishing him out of cruelty.
She was punishing him because watching him die again and again, even temporarily, was destroying her.
Karl whispered, barely audible:
"Agnes… I'm sorry."
Her eyes widened.
Then she broke.
Agnes collapsed into him, her digital form clinging to his immobilized body. She cried openly now, voice shaking like static.
"You can't keep doing this," she whispered.
"You can't keep throwing yourself into death and expecting me to pull you out every time."
Karl wanted to hold her.
But he couldn't move.
She had locked every motor, every neural interface, every nanite in his body.
She didn't trust him not to get up and walk back into Pittsburgh.
Agnes pulled back, wiping her tears again, though more kept forming.
"You're not moving until every trace of ichor is gone from your Vythra circulation. I don't care how long it takes. Hours. Days. Weeks."
She leaned in closer, voice low and trembling.
"I'm not losing you again."
Karl exhaled softly.
"…I wouldn't die. Yggdrasil—"
Agnes slapped him again—
But this time the motion froze halfway. Her hand shook mid-air, trembling violently.
She lowered it slowly and whispered:
"You still felt the pain. You still suffered. You still broke. I still watched."
Her voice cracked.
"You think immortality makes it easier? It just means you can get hurt infinitely."
Karl blinked slowly.
A heavy silence stretched between them.
Agnes finally placed a cold, digital hand on his cheek.
"I'm locking all movement protocols. You stay down. You stay still. You let Yggdrasil work."
"…Agnes."
"No arguing."
Her voice lowered into a soft, seductive whisper again—but the emotion underneath was unmistakable.
"You're mine to protect.
And I decide when you stand again."
Karl closed his eyes.
He didn't fight her.
For the first time since stepping into Pittsburgh, he felt safe—not because he was immortal, not because the ichor was fading, but because Agnes wasn't letting him be the one hurting himself anymore.
And somewhere deep in the mech's core, Yggdrasil's healing continued its slow, steady restoration.