He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it surely wasn't this. The key Jack had given him overwrote the controls. Instead of taking him up, the elevator was rushing down into levels that weren't normally accessible.

When it finally stopped, the door opened, revealing a dark hallway with flashing lights at its end. Clashes reverberated throughout, making the walls shake. As he cautiously walked forward, he began to hear voices.

"Are you really not going to say anything? I just told you everything, and you're still unfazed." Wasn't that Vincent? Was he fighting? "I have no interest in the Prophet or her prophecies." He recognized that voice, mysterious and dark. "On the other hand…" the voice became even sharper as a crashing sound was heard. "That man who destroyed the Prophecy..." Slava was about to step out from the darkness when he froze.

"Hahaha! You're crazy!" The caved wall behind him slowly regained its original form, pushing him to his feet. "I misjudged you, I knew you didn't care about these people, you're not like Jack, and that's why I thought you would see the beauty in this." The floor covered in circuitry rippled, and the walls filled with all types of electronic devices shifted, revealing an unconscious Jack encrusted into the wall, bound by thick electric cables. "It was what she promised us after all." He walked forward, the room twisting around him. "But I guess I was wrong," he said, twisting his arm, spikes rising from the floor.

"I also thought the same…" one after another, they moved to impale him, but one after another, they missed. He kept fazing in and out of existence as if his body wasn't really there. "However, when I saw her break down," he was getting closer to Vincent, "when I saw the way she looked back then, I realized what I really was…" when he got close enough, Crow grabbed onto Vincent's face, smashing it to the ground. "Bored." When that last word left his mouth, he disappeared, manifesting back in his original position.

"Hahaha! No… no! This can't be! For a simple kid? You were bored? You would throw away everything we've worked for…" The floor began to crack into pieces, forming a storm around him. "Where's the beauty? The conviction, the shine, the flourish?" As he stood up, the storm congregated around his back, forming two massive ghostly arms made up of the surrounding materials. The scene was magnificent, mystical, magical. His body floated up, and those massive arms spread apart, sinking into the walls. "Why can't you see? Why can't you understand?" The room trembled with his voice.

"It's you who would never understand." The room twisted, collapsing onto itself. "The truth behind the facade, the meaning behind the broken prophecy." Parts of the walls and floor crashed into him, but his body simply materialized elsewhere. "You're still too weak. You can't see through to the universe's will. When the balance breaks, a new era begins!" His face was hidden by his hood, but his eyes betrayed his sharp smile.

"You can't run forever!" Vincent didn't seem to listen. His eyes and back glowed in a deep brown, almost bronze hue. "You're right, but I don't need to." Crow's words were muffled by the sound of walls sealing him off. When they stopped moving, only a small crack was left. The room became quiet. Vincent gradually descended, his massive wing-like hands dissipating, the debris forming them falling to the ground. Crow's domain had almost completely vanished, but for some reason, Vincent looked saddened. He slightly turned his head when the fractured wall was blown away, accompanied by a blinding light.

Slava stood stunned. He silently watched from the shadows how Crow took a deep breath, sheathing his blade. His eyes grew wide. He recognized this scene. A katana splitting the world in half. He blinked a few times, but the scenery didn't change. The dust soon settled, revealing Vincent's sorry state. He had a huge gash running down his chest, between his neck and shoulder. Leaning against a shattered wall, he barely moved; his breath irregular, blood flowing from his mouth.

"Ah, so much for an impenetrable fortress… I should've known," Vincent coughed. "Why do I always fall for the crazy ones?" He tried to look at the hole in the ceiling, but his chuckle was broken by a vomit of blood. Crow appeared in front of him, crouching down to meet his mostly hollowed eyes.

"It's a shame you gave in to that poisonous tongue. It could've been interesting." As those same eyes fully glazed over, Crow stood up, his gaze rising to meet the gaping hole, rubble still crumbling from it. “Shouldn’t you come out now?” Hearing his voice call out to him, Slava shivered. Taking a deep breath, he slowly stepped out from the shadows. He had noticed him long ago. There was no way he didn't. He could've ended it, but he decided not to. He wanted to show him something.

"You heard it right?" Crow's figure hazily smoked as he looked back at Slava. "You've piqued my interest." His sharp eyes made Slava shiver. This was no longer the carefree man he saw in Serena's memories or the indifferent one who was at the meeting. This was a predator looking at his prey. "I followed the prophet because I thought she was like me." At his words, more of the ceiling crumbled, the rubble falling everywhere around him, without a single speck reaching his body. "She promised change, renewal, the coming of a new era." He spread his arms as if presenting a stage, "an era of conquest, discovery, and domination," dust gathered between them, somehow forming into different scenes. Depicting epic battles between colossal stigma-bearing avatars of seemingly different species. What looked like mythical creatures and spaceships joined the fray among clouds of radiation.

"An era of human prosperity over the whole universe." The scene turned into that of a massive city slowly getting smaller and smaller. From an intricately complex planetary structure to a fully weaponized solar system. "Alas, it seemed to have crumbled away into nothing." Following his words, the dust dissipated, most of it falling to the ground. "And that, by none other than you." Suddenly, Slava's view became dark. A dark mist surrounded him, preventing him from seeing anything beyond his feet. "So tell me, why shouldn't I just kill you right now?" Hearing a whisper in his ear, his chains moved on their own, spreading into the dense fog. "Who knows? It might even fix what was broken." Where was he? It's like he was everywhere at once. His movements were all over the place. Slava was barely evading every slash. Dammit! He was doing it on purpose. Before every strike, he slowed down just enough for him to catch on. From what he said earlier, he couldn't want him dead. He was just testing him. And Slava hated that, he hated being played. Arrogance was always power's downfall.

When the next blade came, he didn't evade, block or parry. As it slashed downwards, he tilted his body. A katana wasn't made for piercing. With this thought in mind, he thrust himself into the blade, grabbing it as hard as he could to drain its momentum. Trapping him was his only option.

"So you've figured it out? Not bad, kid." He felt the strength in the sword loosen, the mist dissipating, revealing Crow's shimmering eyes. "I could never kill…" he didn't get to finish his words as a chain pierced his chest. He grunted, shock washing over his face. Not giving him time to react, another one pierced the middle of his face. One after another, Slava's chains went through him like butter, vibrating, sending his body into a seizure-like state. He had to make sure there was nothing left. Slava was certain that this man was comparable in strength to the prophet. He couldn't feel his presence through his domain. He was everywhere and nowhere. As his chains stopped, and he watched the mangled remains slump to the ground, the sound of clapping resounded from behind him.

"Marvelous, I couldn't have expected any better." Slava turned around, stunned. "A ruthless man ready to do anything to achieve his goals." He slowly removed his sheathe from his hip, he was no longer wearing a hood. Slava didn't know what to think. What would he do? How did he survive? Was he even there in the first place? The body behind him vanished, all that remained were the marks on the floor, made by his chains.

When his eyes focussed back on Crow, he was kneeling on the floor, his sheathed blade laying in front of him, the body of the dead architect behind him. An act of prostration, giving up his weapon, awaiting an answer. Did he… no… Crow opened his eyes, looking up, straight into his.

"I swear my life, my honor, and my blade to the lord who can fill this life with purpose." He lowered his head and his hazy, misty figure cleared up. He could feel it now, his domain congregated to form his body. This was a trial, a pledge or an execution. He was giving him the choice. He couldn't understand, was he really crazy? No, he understood, he didn't want to admit it, but he'd been played. He gritted his teeth. To think he had played right into his hand. It was driving him mad, he hated being used. But he needed him, and Crow probably knew that which made this situation all the more infuriating. He had no choice, he wanted to know the origins of that katana. Besides, he couldn't take care of Jack and go help Sasha at the same time.

"Stand up," his words reverberated throughout the room like a call. Even Slava was surprised. This wasn't his doing. It was like his words had carried his will. In a blink of an eye, a mist overtook him. It swiftly swirled around him, congregating around his wrist. Almost automatically, he slightly raised his arm. It wasn't hostile. Revealing his naked hand, the dark mist spread over it and small chains spread from his wrist to join it.

Soon, the mist was gone, replaced by a chain coiling itself around his palm. It was so vivid, yet upon a closer look, it seemed to seep into his skin. He tried feeling it and that's when he heard a low grunt.

Looking up, he saw Crow half kneeling, holding his scabbard with one hand, the other grasping the side of his face. A circuit-like pattern spread from his eye to one side of his face, the same went for his hand. They were glowing black familiar mist emanating from them. Seeing this, Slava instantly stopped, a complicated look forming on his face. As he saw this, Crow stood up, grinning.

"Don't look at me like that, Master." Master? Jesus, what the fuck? "Woah, slow down," Slava took a step back, his suit moving to cover his hand. He'd just been thinking that those patterns looked somewhat familiar. What was this 'Master' thing, and why were the patterns now gone from his face? They had completely vanished as if they'd never existed.

"I'm sorry," Crow said, standing to his feet, "I'll explain." He left his sword upright, perfectly balanced, as he rolled up his sleeve. "I am like a cat in a box, neither alive nor dead, and what I've given you is a way to open that box…" That much was obvious, the mist, the multiple blades, superposition, and this was probably some form of entanglement. He gave him a way to kill him anytime he wanted.

"Don't take me for an idiot, you know exactly what I meant." Meeting his cold gaze, Crow grinned, courteously lowering his head. "As expected of Master." Slava grimaced. "I knew you were special. Your incredible growth was impressive, but even it didn't stop. Not only that, but chaos walks in your wake, following you wherever you go, and that in itself is a sign of change. I believe you will reach where none has ever reached before, and I want to see it happen." Had this guy investigated him? Did he mean that all he could do was cause destruction? "How can you be so sure?" He asked. A long silence ensued where Crow simply stared him down. When their eyes met again, he shrugged, smiling. "I like to gamble." Slava was speechless, this guy was playing games he didn't have time for. Sighing, he walked past him, putting his hand on his shoulder.

"Take care of Jack, make sure his family is safe." Crow was about to answer when Slava interrupted him. "And don't call me Master." Giving him a last glance, he bent his knees. Crow simply bowed, a misty hood moving to cover his face, also turning around, spinning his sword until it landed on his shoulders, where he held it, nonchalantly walking toward Jack.

He needed to get to Sasha before it was too late. He still couldn't believe what had just happened. Sure, the 'Master' stuff was weird, but by far what had marked him the most was that first strike. He could've sworn it was the same one she'd used. But his sister's was far more powerful, almost mythically so. Was he linked to her somehow? It was worth keeping him, just to figure it out.