_Eshwar_

A tragedy...
An abrupt departure...
Death...
And rebirth.

Pain, rage, struggle, and blood honed a sword.
A sword sharp enough to sever through reality and reveal what lies beyond.

It unveiled something,
Or rather, someone, incomprehensible and unprecedented....
A being who seems to weave the threads of fate.

Does he truly exist, or is he merely a manifestation of another's will?
If he does exist, what purpose does he serve?
Is there really a purpose, or is it just another will imposed upon him?
If it is another's will, can he defy it?
Can he turn his sword against his creator,
A being who literally writes his reality?

Or will he be consumed by the abyss from which his power flows,
Forever lost in the shifting void of his own making?

The Blind Swordsman.

The short little creator walked forward apathetically, but still seemed excited to test her gears. With a confident stride forward, she stood ten steps away from her professor and began to equip her crafts.

"Lady Erica, can I try those?" Ken suddenly questioned, and Erica who heard him, widened her eyes in shock.

As if uncertain, ".....Do you really want to?" She questioned.

At that confused response, she shrugged off her uncertainty and jumped in joy instead, "OK!" She exclaimed as she rushed towards Ken, excitedly.

With a few feet wide gears stuck to his forearms, legs beneath his knees, Ken moved side by side awkwardly, while an entirely different kind of gear layered over his spine. "I'll active them now" Erica said as if warning him, but Ken merely nodded his head.

"[Prototype 11, assign and connect]" Erica mumbled.

The First Class (3)