"How close is it?", Soul yelled, over the rushing wind as they flew over a forest.
"Just a little more, lets hope we didn't take too long." Maka yelled back, her voice getting swept away by the rush of air.
They had been the first to hear of the sighting. The teams that made up the elite Spartoi unit had all been on separate missions, not having returned yet. When Maka and Soul came to the death room, Lord Death told them about Crona being seen near Baba Yaga's castle. She had been warned that Crona was incredibly dangerous, and different from before. She should wait for back-up, no one could predict how Crona may react to meeting her. She couldn't wait. Every second wasted made Crona more distant. She left, expecting the others to follow not far behind.
Finally the trees broke next to the edge of the canyon. The massive hole beneath held the giant spider in it's mouth. They flew done, already familiar with the experience after months of practice. Maka landed softly, looking up from the base of the castle. Left alone to her thoughts, she wondered about the shy boy who she had spent such short, precious time with. She would have to find him, if just to see him. Just to know what had become of him.
She and her weapon walked into the castle, wary of the collapsed and collapsing structure. They walked, searching for any clue as to the Black-blooded meister's whereabouts. They went straight for the Arachne's room, hoping the others would spread out from there once they arrived. As she walked, Maka thoughts again went back to the timid boy she had once known. His rare but adorable smile, the cautious gate of his steps, the wonder at every small discovery. If the reports were true, what had happened to him? Even before she cleansed his soul, the boy was never this dark and violent. Even under madness he retained some of his innocence to what he was doing. Now he sounded as evil and blood-thirsty as the Kishin.
Hear thoughts were interrupted by Soul calling out. "What's that noise?"
Almost to the door leading to Arachne's room, they both stopped to listen, waiting several seconds before the sound came again. Chewing, loud and sickening, was coming from inside the dead witch's room. Maka sent out her soul perception to look into the room, but something was wrong with her ability. It was as if the room didn't exist to her senses. "I can't get a clear reading on whose in there. Maybe Arachne cast a spell over the room to block meister's from finding her, and it's still functioning after her death." Soul didn't hesitate to respond, "Than the only way to find out what's in there is to see it ourselves. Are you ready Maka?" The meister gave him a firm nod.
They approached slowly, listening for any change in the grinding of teeth in the neighboring room. When they made it to the doors, they both grabbed a handle, looked at each other, and nodded. They threw open the doors and ran inside. It was poorly lit inside, but their eyes had already adjusted in the long walk in. In the inky darkness, a mass was bent over like a beast.
Once inside, Maka's soul perception started working, she sensed a collection of souls too close for them to be alive, and another one, darker than the rest, next to them. Whoever that was, it wasn't Crona. "Who are you!?" Maka yelled at the dark mass. The chewing, which had gone on relentless after their forced entry, had finally stopped. As if whoever it was had bothered to acknowledge their existence. A voice, low and guttural replied, " Oh look, the food came to me this time." It picked itself up and turned around, "Now why would children like you be in a place like this?"
"I asked who you are, answer!" Maka yelled. She had no time to waste on kishin eggs, she needed to find Crona. The man looked at her as if judging the quality of a piece of meat. After a moment of contemplation he responded, "I've never remembered my meals name, and by doing so forgot my own. Now they call me the blacksword demon, thanks to this blade." The man pulled a jet-black sword from his side and licked the blade. "It's said whoever wielded this weapon would fall into madness, but I feel perfectly fine." Letting out a low chuckle.
Suddenly Maka realized what had happened, groaned and put her head in her hands. Whoever had reported Crona's location had seen "a mad swordsman with a black sword", not "a mad black-blooded swordsman." She sighed, held up her head, inhaled, and looked back at the serial killer. "Fine, I may already have a death scythe, but I can't leave you alone to kill others. Soul!" "Right, Maka!" Soul responded as he changed into his scythe form, falling into her hand.
Blade held back Maka charged at the mad swordsman. The kishin egg held his sword ready. Maka swung her scythe in swift motion to the upper right, aiming to tear through his chest. The man swung down and blocked easily. Maka bounced her scythe off his block and spun off it to increase the power of her slash, returning it from the lower left. The man deftly stepped back. Dodging the blade by inches.
"Huhuhu, a much more lively prey than most." chuckled the swordsman. "I'll enjoy this." He took a stance preparing to lunge. Maka followed suit and readied her scythe. The swordsman jumped forward and slashed at the meister, blocking with the shaft she stopped the blade's swing. The man pushed off, his momentum carrying him. Maka swiped at his legs, the man hit the ground and jumped over her. He readied himself to strike back, when suddenly he was falling backwards. "What the?" He looked down and saw a gash in the floor he had tripped on. She had made it when she blocked his swing moments ago, predicting he would jump back here. "No, this can't be!"
Now that he was off-balance, he was completely defenseless. Maka swung around and gripped her scythes. "In the name of Lord Death, I will-" The sound of wings flapping and the swift slash of a sword cut her off. With a silent scream, the unnamed swordsman was dead in moments. All that was left was his soul, floating above his wrecked corpse. But even that was fleeting sight, as a familiar black form bubbled and reformed into Ragnarok, who quickly devoured the soul. Ragnarok was almost as tall as before Maka cleansed him, but far skinnier. But that was of little concern when compared to the condition of the person he was connected to. His face was completely devoid of emotion, haunted with a serenity, if that's what you could call it. It came almost as a shock to remember this boy used to suffer from constant anxiety. Draped in clothes for battle, It almost looked like someone more confident was parading as the boy. But only one person holds the demon sword in his body. Listlessly watching as Ragnarok consumed all the souls that had been the, now dead, black swordsman's meal, his eyes looked empty of emotion of any kind, as if not wanting to think about his existence or others. A haunting indifference.