The forge roared like a hurricane trapped in a bell jar.
Karl's consciousness was half-consumed by molten light, his essence suspended between soul and machine — the crucible beginning to shape what would become his new body.
The process was violent.
Every fragment of thought was stretched, reshaped, folded into energy patterns and runic matrices. He could feel himself unraveling and reforming — until—
A blinding streak of silver light ripped through the forge.
The entire chamber froze.
The molten rivers of Hephaestus's domain solidified mid-flow. Thanamira's spectral glow dimmed in shock.
Then came a voice — calm, melodic, but sharpened with unmistakable irritation:
"Honestly, you two never learn. Always rushing into rebirths like children playing with broken stars."
The light condensed into a feminine silhouette — radiant and serene, yet utterly commanding. Her hair shimmered with shifting constellations, her eyes a deep void that reflected infinite patterns of thought.
Artemis, Primordial of Wisdom, had arrived.
Hephaestus turned sharply, the forge behind him flaring back to life in protest.
"Artemis. This is my domain. You have no place interfering with my forge."
"Your forge," she repeated, stepping forward, "is about to turn a fragmented consciousness into a half-sentient weapon because you didn't wait for the mind to stabilize."
Thanamira sighed softly, floating beside them.
"We didn't expect you to intervene. You were still attending to Shojiro's induction."
Artemis's expression darkened.
"Exactly. Shojiro's induction. The same reason I'm late — because he was next in the chain of awakening. You were supposed to wait until I completed his mental sequence before touching Karl's essence."
Hephaestus's molten arm crackled with restrained fury.
"You speak of waiting while his mind decays in the void? The longer his consciousness drifts, the greater the chance it will collapse into entropy. I won't lose another candidate to cosmic negligence."
"And I won't allow you to forge a corpse's memory without showing him why he's here in the first place," Artemis snapped. Her voice echoed like the strike of a tuning fork, resonating through Karl's disoriented awareness.
The crucible surrounding Karl dimmed, releasing him from the suffocating grip of molten light. His consciousness flickered, regaining clarity as the silver glow enveloped him protectively.
"W–what's happening?" Karl's voice stuttered through the ether. "Who are you now?"
Artemis turned to him, her tone softening immediately — intelligent yet maternal.
"I am Artemis. Primordial of Wisdom. And I'm sorry you had to experience that chaos, Kurogane Karl."
Her eyes drifted briefly toward Hephaestus and Thanamira, both of whom now looked like scolded gods caught mid-blunder.
"My companions here sometimes forget that rebirth isn't just about reconstructing a vessel — it's about reconciling a soul. You cannot rebuild a man if you don't understand the path that broke him."
Karl's awareness rippled with confusion. "Reconcile…? I don't—"
Artemis raised a hand, and the void itself bent around her gesture. Suddenly, images began to bloom in the dark — distorted memories replaying like film reels flickering out of sequence:
His parents' laughter.
The sterile glow of hospital lights.
The explosion in the desert.
The screams.
The mech's cockpit, shaking beneath his dying heartbeat.
He flinched. "Those are—my memories—"
"Fragments," Artemis said softly. "But not the full truth. There are patterns even you don't see yet, Karl. Reasons that led to this moment — reasons your human mind was never allowed to comprehend."
Hephaestus folded his arms, grumbling, "We don't have time for philosophy."
Artemis shot him a glare that could've frozen a star.
"You had time to nearly vaporize his psyche, but not enough to give him context?"
Thanamira, ever the mediator, sighed.
"Hephaestus, perhaps she's right. You know what happened when we rushed the last awakening."
The forger groaned, sparks trailing from his armor. "Fine. Enlighten him, then. But make it quick — the forge's resonance is fading."
Artemis ignored him, kneeling — or rather descending — to Karl's level. Her voice softened again, calm and melodic.
"Karl… before you can be reborn, you must see. You must understand why your lineage called to the forge, why your death drew the Cradle's light. You must remember what connects you — not just to Hephaestus, but to all of us."
Karl hesitated, disoriented but curious. "You mean… I was chosen?"
"No," Artemis said gently. "You were summoned. The difference will make itself clear soon."
Her silver glow expanded — threads of light stretching outward, wrapping around Karl's consciousness like silk.
"Now," she whispered, her voice echoing through every corner of his mind,
"let me show you what truly happened… the chain of cause that brought you to the Cradle."
The forge vanished.
The molten light dissolved into a sky of shifting stars.
And Karl's awareness was pulled downward — into the fabric of memory itself, guided by the Primordial of Wisdom.
The forge within the Cradle had gone quiet.
Only the pulsing of Yggdrasil's roots echoed in the molten stillness — each throb like the breath of the world itself.
Karl's soul hung suspended inside a cocoon of amber light, gently swaying amidst divine roots. His consciousness, now separated, rested motionless in the ethereal chamber beside it — a faint echo of a man who once defied gods and demons alike.
Hephaestus stood before the cocoon, arms crossed, steam rising from his body like a living furnace.
His face, usually proud and sharp with creation's confidence, was uncertain for the first time in eons.
Hephaestus: "We can forge a thousand forms, but none of them would be him. His spirit isn't like Shojiro's — it's built from machinery, memory, and grief. We can't guess what he would want. If we shape him wrong… we could destroy what makes him... him."
Thanamira's translucent form floated beside him — her pale hair flowing like smoke, her many eyes shifting within her halo.
The air around her pulsed with spectral warmth, an aura of both death and compassion.
Thanamira: "You're right. To rebuild a soul's vessel without the soul's will is to play dice with its essence. We'd give him power… but not identity."
She drifted closer to the cocoon, pressing her palm against the glowing shell.
Beneath the surface, Karl's faint outline stirred — as if he could feel their uncertainty.
Then, slowly, a small smile curved Thanamira's lips — a thought blooming in her mind like a forbidden seed.
Thanamira (softly): "Unless… we don't guess. We ask those who shaped him first."
Hephaestus's molten eyes turned toward her.
Hephaestus: "What are you suggesting, Spirit-Weaver?"
Thanamira: "His parents. Ayaka and Itsuki Kurogane. Their spirits still linger in the mortal resonance — scattered, faint, but traceable. If I pull their echoes from the veil of death, they can tell us what their son should become."
Hephaestus's brow furrowed, his mechanical gears grinding in protest.
Hephaestus: "You'd break the boundary of final death for a mortal's sake?"
Thanamira's eyes shimmered, her tone calm but firm.
Thanamira: "For this mortal, yes. His soul burned for vengeance yet gave his life for strangers. That paradox deserves to live — properly this time."
Silence hung for a long moment.
Then, with a heavy sigh, Hephaestus nodded once, the forge's flames reigniting behind him in quiet approval.
Hephaestus: "Then do it, Thanamira. Bring them here. Let the creators of Kurogane guide the Forgers of gods."
Yggdrasil's roots began to pulse faster — resonating with her intent. The chamber darkened, and Thanamira raised her hands, weaving spectral sigils in the air. A gate began to bloom within the roots — one that led not to heaven, nor hell, but to the space between souls.
And through it, faintly, two voices began to echo —
Ayaka's gentle laugh, and Itsuki's deep, steady tone — memories reborn as light.