Karl gritted his teeth, sweat stinging his eyes, every nerve screaming from heat and exhaustion. Erevos had survived the Sentinel's sapphire plasma barrage, but only just. Nanites were overworked, plating scorched, internal conduits overloaded. Every second on the battlefield now risked collapsing the cockpit entirely.
He exhaled sharply, letting his hands hover above the Drive Regulator. This was the moment. The only chance to turn the tide. The massive, burnt nanites from the Erevos Frame—the cockpit, the nanite-infused armor, even the remains of the mechanical limbs—were already pulling back into the Drive Regulator. With a deep, steadying breath, Karl twisted the ignition dial.
A low hum surged through him, vibrating through his bones. The cockpit walls dissolved into fragments of Royal Azure light, nanites peeling away like liquid metal from a mold. Erevos' cockpit vanished entirely, leaving Karl suspended in a void of flickering, cyan-blue light. Every burnt nanite of the mech—the failed Blueprint Dome projections, scorched armor, fractured subroutines—was compressed, stored, and reconfigured inside the Drive Regulator.
His human form was suddenly encased in new layers of nanites, each segment humming with torque potential. Four primary gears sprouted automatically: two across his chest, interlocking in a precise X-torque pattern, and two at his knees, pulsing with kinetic energy. The remaining four hovered behind him, spinning lazily like predators waiting for commands.
The Drive Regulator revved.
Metallic whirring filled the air as the Rider Variant interface activated. The nanites molded themselves into sleek armor over Karl's body, amplifying his muscles, coating his skin in Royal Azure overlays. Torque currents flowed through him like a second heartbeat. The floating gears aligned in orbit, ready to slice, block, or ricochet debris with surgical precision.
Karl flexed his arms, feeling the difference instantly. Rider Frame. Gearstorm Nova. Fully operational.
"…Time to fight smart," he muttered, voice steady despite the burn marks still simmering across his neck and arms. Vythra readout hovered at 58 percent—low, but enough. Survival was possible.
The Sentinel roared, sapphire plasma flickering along its arms like molten rivers. It lunged forward, flamethrowers spinning.
Karl darted immediately. Torque-charged pivots launched him along temporary nanite rails beneath his boots. Blueprint Overdrive reactivated—but smaller, sharper, precise. Micro-rails snaked around molten debris and fractured rock, guiding him in impossible arcs. Every pivot, every dash, every launch was calculated, torque feeding momentum without wasting Vythra.
Floating gears spun outward instantly, slicing shards of debris hurled by the Sentinel. One deflected a falling boulder midair, pulverizing it. Another intercepted a shard of molten rock, ricocheting it back toward the creature. Karl's chest gears hummed, knee gears pulsed, amplifying rotational force with each movement.
"Precision… micro… control…" he muttered, flexing midair. The Rider Variant wasn't for raw power—it was for speed, torque, and adaptability. Every strike needed to hit, every pivot needed to save him, and every gear rotation amplified his next movement.
The Sentinel reacted instantly, sensing his rails, anticipating micro-dashes. Its sapphire core pulsed violently, heatwaves ripping across the battlefield. But Karl was already gone, pivoting midair, launching from vertical rails, slicing molten arcs with the floating gears. Small, reinforced nanite projectiles launched from his chest gears, each striking with precision, melting localized segments of the Sentinel's armor without wasting kinetic energy.
Agnes' avatar appeared beside him, calm and taut. "Karl… hold your Vythra! Use the Rider Frame! Let me stabilize the rest!"
He gritted his teeth. "…Yeah… survival first… precision strikes… Gearstorm Nova, execute…"
The four floating gears spun outward in sharp arcs, intercepting plasma bursts, deflecting heatwaves, and launching controlled ricochets. Nanite micro-projectiles from his chest gears followed precise trajectories, each amplified by torque. Knee gears jolted him diagonally, propelling him around the Sentinel's massive frame like a predator circling prey.
Every movement was painful but controlled. Sweat sizzled against Royal Azure nanites, burn marks flared, and every flex of muscle drove Vythra down by a fraction. Yet Karl had adapted. The Blueprint Dome had failed, but the smaller, torque-amplified precision strikes were surviving where massive projections had melted.
The Sentinel paused, frustration flickering across its sapphire core. Each predictive strike Karl attempted was now met with countermeasures—but the Rider Frame's torque and the floating gears' responsiveness kept him always a step ahead.
"…Sentinel… your sapphire core… won't predict this…" Karl muttered, midair. Chest gears rotating in counter-torque, knee gears pulsing in sync, floating gears slicing debris, micro-rails weaving temporary paths—it was all fluid, relentless, perfect timing.
Erevos' remains, compressed and stored, fed into the Drive Regulator, stabilizing his Rider Frame in real time. The cockpit was gone, but Karl didn't need it now. He had become the mech and the pilot at once.
Agnes' voice, quiet but unwavering, whispered through the mental interface: "…Karl… I'm keeping you alive… just… focus… precision… survive…"
Karl exhaled, eyes narrowing. "…Survive… adapt… strike… Gearstorm Nova… Rider Variant… engage fully…"
The battlefield shimmered in cyan-blue light as the Sentinel lunged, sapphire flames cutting arcs through the air. But Karl was already gone, pivoting along micro-rails, torque feeding every motion. Floating gears sliced, nanite micro-projectiles detonated against armor segments, and the Rider Variant moved like a storm of Royal Azure precision, buying every millisecond he could.
The Sentinel's heatwaves flared, burning what remained of the landscape. Vythra readout flickered: 56 percent. Burn marks screamed against his skin, but Karl's mind was clear. Every micro-gear, every torque-enhanced pivot, every laser-precise strike was a step toward survival.
Every ricochet, every blade swing, every micro-projectile was a calculation. Torque currents fed rotational speed into chest and knee gears, translating angular momentum into burst propulsion. Karl pivoted, slid, and launched with ruthless efficiency, leaving the Sentinel guessing constantly.
One misstep—touch a molten shard, miscalculate torque, or misalign a gear—and the nanites would melt, the Rider Frame falter, and death would come. But Karl's mind was razor-focused, moving faster than the eye could follow, anticipating every plasma wave, every molten fragment, every micro-arc of sapphire flame.
Agnes' voice was steady now, anchoring him mentally. "…Push forward… every movement… every strike… I've got your back… Vythra… don't let it drop below fifty-five percent…"
Karl exhaled, sweat and scorch marks dripping along his skin. "…Understood… precision… survival… execution…"
He launched from a vertical debris rail, chest gears spinning to ricochet micro-projectiles. One struck a vulnerable seam on the Sentinel's right arm, gouging a small arc into the armor. A wave of molten fragments burst out, but the floating gears intercepted, ricocheting debris safely. Knee gears pulsed, torque launching him sideways along a debris beam. Another micro-projectile struck near the core—just a glimmer—but enough to force the Sentinel to adjust.
"…That's it… just… bait… openings…" Karl muttered. Every motion was a dance of survival. Torque, micro-rails, floating gears, nanite micro-projectiles—all synced to his mental rhythm, every fraction of a second accounted for.
The Sentinel's core pulsed furiously, sapphire light flaring brighter. Flamethrower arms whipped in arcs, trying to force Karl into missteps. But Karl was already gone, pivoting midair, ricocheting from floating gear to floating gear, micro-projectiles hammering at weak seams, every movement calculated to chip away at the massive mech without overtaxing his Vythra.
"…Sentinel… learn… adapt… survive…" Karl muttered, voice tight with effort. Burn marks flared, Vythra dropped another percent, but control remained. Gearstorm Nova was alive, humming with lethal precision.
The battlefield erupted in cyan-blue arcs of light and molten metal. Sparks hissed as micro-projectiles struck, ricocheting off armor, each impact timed with torque-enhanced pivots. Karl's Rider Variant moved like an extension of the battlefield itself, a storm of precision assault slicing through sapphire flames and molten debris alike.
Blueprint Overdrive may have failed on a massive scale, but Gearstorm Nova had been born from its ashes. Smaller, sharper, torque-amplified, surgically precise—the Rider Variant had turned the battle into a dance of survival and attrition.
Every second Karl stayed alive, every pivot executed with perfection, every micro-projectile launched with exact torque, brought him one step closer to the final confrontation. Survival wasn't just possible—it was inevitable. And Gearstorm Nova was his path forward.