The world was ending — and Karl Kurogane refused to die quietly.
New York burned beneath a crimson sky. Whole districts were nothing but skeletal silhouettes of what once was — towers gutted, streets liquefied under hellfire. But even amid that inferno, a single figure stood defiant.
Erevos.
The nanite mech towered above the chaos, gleaming like a god of iron amidst rivers of flame. Its hull pulsed with every beat of Karl's weakening heart — the link between man and machine now so deep that every surge of pain in one mirrored in the other.
"Heart rate irregular."
"Cardiac arrhythmia detected."
"Warning: Neural Sync exceeding safe threshold."
Karl wiped the blood from his mouth and snarled through gritted teeth.
"Override all safeties. We're not done yet."
The mech roared to life, back vents splitting open as blue plasma flared across the night sky. Thousands of demons poured out from the cracks above Manhattan — winged, crawling, hissing like a tidal wave of nightmares.
Karl raised Erevos' right arm — the cannon module shifted, forming a rotating tri-barrel launcher.
Missiles screamed upward in a spiral of light.
The sky exploded.
One by one, the demons disintegrated into raining ash. Yet for each that fell, two more crawled from the next tear.
Karl grit his teeth.
"Then I'll just erase the whole damn skyline!"
Erevos slammed its fists into the ground, nanites spreading like liquid metal veins across the streets.
Seconds later, towers of energy surged upward from beneath, vaporizing entire demon clusters in waves of white light.
The screams echoed for miles — human and inhuman — blending into one endless, bloodcurdling chorus.
Hence the name: The Night of a Thousand Screams.
Inside the cockpit, Karl's body convulsed.
His hands trembled violently on the control harness.
His heartbeat spiked — then stuttered.
He coughed again, red splattering onto the console. The machine mirrored his instability — Erevos staggered, plating flickering, lights dimming.
"Neural sync dropping. Operator vitals critical."
Karl smirked faintly, half-delirious. "Guess… I don't have much time left, huh?"
Another seizure hit him like a lightning strike. His limbs locked. His vision blurred.
Through his pain, he saw the radar — hundreds more life signatures converging from every direction.
"…Still not enough to kill me…"
He forced his trembling hand down on the emergency override.
Every nanite in Erevos' frame turned red-hot.
The mech's arms split apart, forming wings of molten steel — plasma wings, each dozens of meters wide.
"Come on then…" Karl whispered hoarsely. "Let's end this properly."
He launched into the swarm.
From the streets, survivors watching from the Providence bunker saw streaks of crimson light tearing through the clouds — the shape of an angelic machine, surrounded by storms of demons, each one bursting into flames upon contact.
It was both beautiful and horrifying.
An iron messiah dancing in the apocalypse.
But Karl's heart couldn't keep up.
Each pulse felt like knives.
Each breath — shorter than the last.
He slumped in his seat, eyes flickering between the external view and the monitors flashing red warnings.
"Core temperature: critical."
"Cardiac failure imminent."
Karl smiled weakly. "I guess this is it… Mom… Dad… I finally saved someone."
He looked at the glowing reactor core, his reflection warped across its surface.
"I just wish… I had more time."
Inside Erevos, alarms screamed like sirens of the apocalypse. Every warning light on the console blazed crimson. The cockpit shook under its own unstable heartbeat — a dying titan running on borrowed seconds.
Karl's breathing was ragged. Each inhale felt like dragging glass through his lungs. His chest ached, vision pulsing between blurs of red and static blue light.
But even as his body failed, his voice came through the comm line — steady, resolute, and calm.
"This is Karl Kurogane… all remaining personnel, listen carefully.
Evacuate the city. Get everyone underground.
I'm going to blow the Erevos Core."
The command room at Providence Headquarters fell silent.
One of the officers muttered, "He's serious…"
Another whispered, "That'll level the entire district…"
The commander closed his eyes, placed his fist to his chest, and said softly,
"Understood, Kurogane.
You saved this city more than once. We'll make sure your name isn't forgotten."
Then Karl heard something — a broken voice through static.
"Karl… Karl, it's me! Don't you dare do this!"
Reginald.
Karl's heart nearly broke again — not from failure this time, but from guilt. He could picture Reggie, sitting inside the Erevos prototype, covered in ash and tears, screaming into a microphone that barely worked.
"You've done enough, Karl! You saved everyone! You don't have to—"
Karl interrupted him, voice weak but certain.
"Reggie… it's okay."
He smiled faintly, a sad, almost peaceful smile.
"I told you before, right? I wanted to die a hero — like my parents."
"Guess I finally get that chance."
Reginald's voice cracked.
"Karl, please! You're the only family I have left!"
Karl's gaze softened.
"…Then live. That's what family does."
He reached out, trembling, and pressed the comms button — cutting the line before Reginald could say another word.
Silence filled the cockpit. Only the faint hum of the dying core remained.
Karl looked down at his shaking hands. They were thin, pale — a reflection of the boy who was born frail, destined to break.
He chuckled weakly.
"Guess I wasn't built to last long anyway…"
The console flickered — CORE MELTDOWN SEQUENCE READY.
Karl leaned back, staring through the shattered cockpit glass.
The city stretched before him — dark, quiet, and nearly empty now.
He could see the bunker far away — a small dot of light where humanity still clung to life.
He thought of his parents.
Of his childhood.
Of Reginald.
Then whispered to no one in particular,
"Hey… Mom… Dad…
I finally did something right, didn't I?"
The reactor beneath him pulsed brighter — the nanites in Erevos melting into liquid metal, fusing around his body like veins of light.
"It's funny," he murmured. "All that talk about changing the world… and I end up destroying it just to save what's left."
He closed his eyes.
"Let's go out with style…"
He pressed his hand on the console — and whispered the final command:
"Erevos Core — detonate."
The sky turned white.
A bloom of energy erupted, devouring everything within miles — demons, ruins, ash, and air itself.
It was silent for the first three seconds, as though the world was too stunned to scream.
Then came the boom — a god-splitting roar that shattered the night.
From the bunker, the survivors saw it: a radiant sphere of light swallowing the city, and at its heart, the faint silhouette of the mech raising its arm toward the heavens.
They didn't see Karl's body vanish in the explosion — because there was nothing left to see.
Or so they thought.