A/N: Just gonna say that I don't know exactly when Kanda is going to make an appearance(Shaera and I haven't gotten to writing that part yet) but it should be in the next few chapters. Maybe six, if I were to guess? But he will appear some time in the near future. We're just working on leading up to it plot-wise ^_^

White Demon, Red Scribe
A D Gray-Man and Assassin's Creed Revelations Crossover

He didn't even mind the weird looks and whispers directed at him as he slowly dragged his feet down the street, stumbling every now and then. Nobody called for help nor for the guards. Maybe he should have changed from the bloodied clothes before he went to find Lavi. Not that he really cared any more.

He was just so tired.

Soon enough, Allen found himself standing in front of the door of the house where Lavi currently resided. He didn't even have the strength to cry anymore. Rubbing the back of his bloodied hand on his cheek, he searched for the key the redhead gave him just few hours ago.

His shaking hand made him unable to fit the key into the keyhole which only made him more frustrated and helpless.

He hated it so much.

Allen slammed his fist on the door, letting out a pathetic, agitated mewl. "Open up...!" On the fifth time the key finally slipped in and he unlocked the door.

The room was still dark but he knew that the man inside was already awake and alert.

"Lavi..." He sobbed.

After Allen had left, Lavi was quick to get some much-needed sleep since he hadn't had any the night before. It wasn't like losing sleep was unusual but he really did love his sleep. Now that he was finally free of his harsh old man, he sometimes managed to get a few extra hours he didn't normally get during his apprenticeship.

He hadn't really done much of anything to unpack or get settled after Allen left. He'd set his bag aside against one wall, promptly collapsed onto the first real bed he'd managed to get into in almost two weeks - Allen's that one night before didn't count - and just as promptly passed out.

Of course, come next morning, he was woken by frantic pounding and demands to open his door, stirring groggily and rubbing his eye. He recognized that voice.

"Allen...?" he hummed sleepily, dragging himself to his feet and shaking his hair out of his face. Had he forgotten the key or something? Right about as he reached the door and was about to unlock it himself, the other man apparently beat him to it, the door almost hitting him in the face as it swung open and the white-haired man stumbled in.

The redhead was aware in an instant of Allen's condition, taking note of the blood on his clothes and look of exhaustion that went beyond physical. He cursed softly under his breath and only delayed a greeting and questions long enough to peer outside, scouring the street for anything he might need to see or, potentially even, fight off, that could have tailed Allen there.

Nothing leapt out at his attention right away, so he shut the door and locked it, placing either hand on Allen's shoulders steadingly, his single eye flitting over Allen's form, trying to discern if the blood was his or not and if there were any injuries that needed attention.

"Tell me what happened."

"Emil won´t be sending his letter," Allen said slowly, staring into distance. "Or any letter anymore." He paused, letting the statement sink in.

Lavi grit his jaw, knowing immediately what was coming after the first two statements. He didn't know the details that Allen only briefly delved into, but he knew the man was dead.

"We found him nailed to the house opposite the main den." He leaned forward, resting his head against Lavi's shoulder. "It was my fault... if I didn't send him alone, this wouldn't have happened..."

Lavi guided Allen further into the room to where he could sit on the edge of the bed, before the man possibly collapsed onto the floor. Retrieved a rag and getting it wet, he pulled up his chair to sit and started to clean some of the blood off Allen's skin.

"It isn't your fault that other people do horrific things to each other," Lavi sighed finally, having been trying to grasp at what to say, even though he knew most of the words would do no good. "-and blaming yourself for it won't do anyone any good or bring him back. Maybe it's not what you want to hear, but it's the truth. That kind of thinking just gets in the way."

"But why is it always that people close to me die?! I'm so tired of it! I don´t know what to do anymore!" He breathed heavily, gripping his head. "I am so tired, Lavi," Allen whispered with a hollow voice. "I am so tired of living." He looked back at Lavi, shaking his head. "You cannot stay here."

"People die every day everywhere. A good deal are murdered. It's not as though this is something entirely unique to you," Lavi stated coolly. "No matter what, everyone dies eventually in one way or another. If it wasn't Emil, it might have just been someone else entirely. Trust me, I know that all too well."

He tried not to think too hard himself on the sheer number of bodies he'd seen throughout his life as the result of another war, or another rebellion, or another massacre, or just plain murder, but if he had, the numbers would be in the thousands, at least. Maybe the tens-of-thousands. But he didn't let it linger in his mind long enough to recall the numbers. He never liked to remember just how much of it he'd seen.

"And anyway, I'm not simply leaving."

"No, Lavi, you don´t understand!" Just why couldn't he understand it!? "It´s him! It is happening again! The hunter in Italy, back then they were several and I thought I killed all of them but the same thing is happening now - they only killed the people I knew, the people I loved!" He was at the edge of desperation and he was about to fall any second. "I have to end this! But how? I don't even know if Kanda is still alive and it is driving me crazy because it is all my fault! If he had never met me, this wouldn't have happened!"

He shook his head again, standing up and pacing around.

"Kanda should have killed me back then. But I was too selfish to die - twice already, because I believed that everything would be fine! Ironic, isn´t it?" He asked, his voice trembling. "Maybe I really am cursed... maybe that's why my own father carved my face like this."

He fell silent after that and leaned against the wall, slumping down to sit on the ground and catch his breath. His head was spinning and his mind was foggy. Suddenly, an idea occurred to him.

But of course there was still a way to keep everyone from harm - a way to turn the hunter from the others only at himself.

How could he have been so stupid?

"I'm sorry, Lavi. I didn't mean to..." he apologized, his mind barely registering what the other was doing. All he knew was he had to get out. "I have to leave. I have to-"

Lavi hated to hear Allen going on like this. He really, truly hated it. Hearing Allen talk so suicidally and watching and hearing him be so hysterical left him with a sick feeling of dread. He always knew Allen to be a strong person, and seeing him so fragile and ready to break at the slightest blow hurt him a great deal to witness, even though he knew this was just a natural response to grief.

But damn it he hated it. Allen had a right to feel weak, but the way he was going on and the way his thoughts were twisting went beyond just feeling weak and back into dangerous recklessness that was going to affect more than just him, despite that Allen was adamant to refuse acknowledging that.

He noticed Allen moving to leave, acting more on his raw feelings than real thought - despite that he figured the wreck of a man probably thought it was just the opposite - and stood up as well, crossing the room. Before Allen had time to open the door and flee, just barely getting the lock, Lavi put a hand on it to hold it shut.

"I'm not letting you go out there the way you are right now," he stated, in a tone of authoritative finality.

Allen recognized that tone very well: last time Lavi used it, he almost killed the man by accident.

He wanted to counter him. He wanted to leave, disappear from the surface of the city and become a hunter himself. But he couldn't. Something in Lavi's voice made him freeze. Back then Emil was there to keep Lavi off him, but the man was not alive anymore and he didn't have anyone to back him off, which would surely result in a fight. A fight he was not willing to start or encourage.

Especially when all of his friends are dying because of his stupid self.

Allen hung his head, breathing deeply. He was being an idiot all the time. A child. He knew Lavi was right all the time and he could not afford to be like this anymore.

But he needed to get away. He couldn´t stand the thought of Lavi getting hurt.

"You're right. I-I'm sorry." He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut and massaging his temples. He turned around walking to the bed again and sitting down. "Will you let me stay here tonight?"

It was an innocent question he knew Lavi would probably hate, but he didn't trust himself to stay on his own. Not this night. He had to mentally mock himself because of how pathetic he sounded - like an emotional woman, asking for protection. But he knew deep inside that he owed Lavi one final thing. A thing he had no chance of doing when they last parted. Their last goodbye, before everything descends into hell.

It was a gamble - but gambling was something he was never defeated in.

"I think I need some time to clear my head," he added, hoping Lavi would let him stay. "Will you send that letter?"

Lavi was simply glad that Allen didn't force the issue any more than that, despite that Lavi had been expecting more of a fight. But maybe he just didn't have the energy after what had just happened to fight. Not against anyone other than his prime enemy right now: the hunter.

He watched Allen carefully as the man wandered back to his bed to sit down, looking downtrodden and defeated, but maybe a little more clear-headed. That was a step in the right direction at any rate. The question was mildly surprising, but if Allen hadn't asked, he probably would have insisted anyway. Allen was impulsive even on good days. On days like this, he needed to be watched. Closely. Lavi didn't trust the assassins would do it.

They would defend Allen against threats, yes. They would fight for him, probably to the end, and have his back in that regard, yes. But they wouldn't hold him back, and that was what he needed right now. He couldn't go into a fight with a head filled to bursting with thoughts and feelings of grief and guilt and should-of's, but it didn't look as if anyone else associated with Allen had the sense to see that.

Lavi, however, knew better.

"Of course you can stay," he responded in a soft-edged voice, re-locking the door and crossing the room to sit beside Allen, rubbing circles in his back comfortingly. "And yeah, I'll send the letters off sometime today."

But not until he was sure he could risk leaving Allen alone, or take him outside. Either way boded potentially bad, if he knew Allen at all. And his gut was telling him Allen hadn't really given up on whatever his intentions were. Only that he would enact them at a later date once everyone's guard was down.

"Thank you," Allen sighed, raking his fingers though his hair. "I-" he started, taking a deep breath, "I can't go back there. Not today at least. They...they are... trying to-" he took another deep breath to calm himself down enough to continue. "They are putting his body together."

Lavi nodded in understanding, knowing now more than ever why Allen needed someplace other than the den to escape to. He'd seen such things himself plenty of times, but they were always people he hardly knew and didn't care for, and even then, it had taken a toll on his psyche. He could only imagine Allen's own horror.

Allen suddenly looked at himself, only now becoming conscious of the blood on his clothes.

"I think I need a bath," he added, wrinkling his nose. "I am sorry I made such a mess everywhere!" He said, the frustration and some remaining fragments of panic still present in his voice. "Mind if I use your bathroom?"

"Go ahead," Lavi nodded, motioning towards it.

Allen nodded once and walked to the small bathroom, closing the door behind him. Leaning against the door, he closed his eyes and heaved a sigh, listening to any sounds from the other room. There was a small stool in the corner, a bowl of water on a slender table and a mirror on the wall.

He slowly walked over to the bowl, shedding his clothes as he went, throwing them into the opposite corner. He only briefly stopped to stare at his face in the small mirror. Putting the bowl on the ground in front of the stool, he took some linen cloths from the table and sat down.

Bathing like this made him miss the Italian springs more than ever.

Taking the cloth and soaking it wet, he started scrubbing his arms, then his face, and later the rest of his body. He never minded the sight of blood, but this time, he couldn't help but to wince when he stared into the coppery water.

The blood was gone but he kept scrubbing and scrubbing, still not feeling clean enough. He only realized he went too far when he felt warm, sticky blood on the fingers of his good hand where his scarred arm had torn.

He dropped the cloth, his eyes never leaving the mutilated limb. With a shaky sigh, Allen stood up, retrieving his bloodied clothes from the pile in the corner, only to realize that he had no other thing to wear with him and the sleeve he usually used to cover his arm with was too dirty to use.

The white-haired male sat down in defeat, trying to come up with a way to conceal his limb before Lavi could see it.

While Allen went to get himself cleaned up, Lavi busied himself with settling in and unpacking his things, since he hadn't done so the night before.

He removed his folded spear and hooked it together to rest near his bed in the corner of the wall where it wouldn't fall. He took several books he carried with him out of his bag and set them up on the shelf on the wall, using a nicely-carved Renaissance ink-well as a stopper for the books, and a couple of small boxes. He had many small ornaments and sculptures from several cultures, that he set alongside, and some decorative dishes. Some were of people and human things, others of animals or mythological creatures. All were nicely crafted. A lute found a spot against the wall, upright.

A smaller vial of ink, another book, and some papers found themselves seated at the corner of his desk, as well as a stone mortar and pestal he often used to mix herbs or poultices when it became necessary. The letters that he'd safely tucked away were set in the center along with Allen's pendant, so he could send them a little later.

He left a couple of small weapons and cookware in his bag, as well as an empty water flask, but took out a few clothes and went through them.

Really, his bag was quite heavy, since Lavi travelled a lot to many places, but despite that his title as a Bookman might suggest he would sit around and only lazily read and study like any other kind of scholar, he did a lot of field work and was quite physically fit. Even so, he tried not to carry his bag too much if he could help it.

As he went through the clothes, a realization struck him. Come to think of it... Allen's clothes were pretty stained. He didn't imagine the other wanted to wear them, covered in blood, but he doubted the man had brought any spares in his grief and hysteria.

It was with that in mind that he went through to find something suitable enough that would be about the right size. He supposed it didn't matter a huge deal if anything was a little too big, but whatever. He settled on a plain, light-colored Kurta and pants.

The rest he packed away, before stepping to the door and knocking lightly, since it had been a while at this point and Allen had yet to re-emerge.

"You okay in there, Allen?"

The assassin jumped when he heard the knocking, almost kicking the bowl over. "Shit!" He cursed, catching it in the last second but some water still splashed out. "Merda! Yeah! I-I'm fine!" he stammered, picking up his clothes from the floor but it was still too late - they were already soaked with the bloody water. "Oh, come on!" He was really useless today. "Do you think you could lend me some clothes?" Allen asked sheepishly, still fussing over the mess he'd made.

"Already ahead of you on that one," Lavi said as he pushed the door open, a fresh pair of clothes draped over one arm. He rubbed his head but stopped as his eye wandered over Allen's form.

It wasn't that he was naked that had Lavi pause, but his single eye catching the discolored red of his left arm, which hadn't been that way when he'd last seen him in Italy.

It looked like a burn. A bad one. He'd also hazard a guess it wasn't properly treated when the man had first received it either, instead left to sit, for whatever reason.

He'd seen the sleeve that Allen often wore but hadn't thought much of it at the time. Maybe he should have though. Now that he thought on it, it did seem a little odd. It was sort-of the same as how he covered his right eye with a patch, though for entirely different reasons. His wasn't an injury, but most assumed it was.

Allen tensed when he saw Lavi in the door staring at his arm. He shielded it with his other, trying to cover it up as much as he could but failing.

"Well that's new," he mused, nodding faintly, though there was no judgment or demand in his voice, only acknowledgement and traces of curiosity. He wouldn't pry, though. If Allen wanted to tell him about it, he would. If not, he wouldn't. It really was a matter as simple as that. It did look like Allen might have torn some of the scarred flesh though.

Holding the clothes out for him, he added, "You should let me take a look at that if you've re-opened something. Otherwise it could get infected."

Dodging Lavi´s look with his eyes, Allen silently took the offered clothes and nodded.

Lavi exited to the other room to let Allen dress in privacy after handing off the clothes and instead took a seat on the bed, waiting. Thinking.

He knew Allen had quite a few scars on his body. He'd seen them when he'd treated the wound Allen had sustained to his abdomen almost two weeks earlier, and just now as well, but he'd yet to see the arm until now.

Seeing how Allen tried to hide it ashamedly, he could easily guess why.

He wasn't sure if it had been an accident or something deliberate. He didn't think accident, because of how Allen acted, but all the same, maybe he just didn't like others to see it because of how bad it looked. Most people were incredibly judgmental about appearances, after all.

He noticed Allen still refused to look at him when he re-emerged, and Lavi suspected something, but he didn't demand to know. Demanding answers would mean he might get questions of his own to answer, about things he couldn't talk about. Of his own secrets he kept. He didn't push those kinds of boundaries.

"Sorry about the mess," he apologized, still not meeting Lavi's eyes. Unwrapping the linen cloth that he'd bound his arm with, he carefully poked around the wound. It felt weird to know it was there and not feel a thing.

"It's fine, I can clean it up in a minute," Lavi dismissed, reaching out and carefully taking Allen's hand as he motioned him closer, delicately feeling up the limb, taking note of the roughness of the scarred flesh, places where there were pits that heat had eaten away, spots where the scars had opened and re-healed. It looked somewhat fresh. No older than a year, he guessed, but no newer than a couple of months. He was being careful at first because he didn't know how sensitive it was, but seeing no reaction from Allen that might have been pain, he made his touches progressively more firm. "Can you feel any of this?"

Allen huffed, slightly relaxing.

"No," he answered, rubbing his forehead. "I haven´t felt anything since well... since it healed. Sometimes it is a pretty good advantage, you know. Doesn´t slow me down when someone hits me. Pretty handy when I'm defending myself, even if it sounds a little bit morbid." He managed a weak smile. He couldn't help but think of how many times he sacrificed his own arm to protect the rest of himself. Allen knew it was pretty suicidal, but nobody ever managed to hit his artery or anything important. "It´s fine really," he commented, seeing how carefully Lavi was treating the wound. "You can stab it and I still wouldn't feel a thing."

Lavi nodded, pursing his lips in thought, looking troubled by Allen's words.

"You should be more careful than that. I'm pretty sure you're lucky not to have lost it entirely to gangrene and had it just rot off," Lavi informed. "I'm serious here, don't be reckless with it, otherwise you might end up with worse than not having an arm left."

He rubbed his temple wearily, slightly exasperated. Really, how foolish could Allen be? It was bad enough that it looked like it hadn't properly been treated when he'd first received it.

"When you wash it, do so gently, so you don't reopen it, and you should be using oil on it regularly to keep it from drying out, which will help keep the scar tissue from tearing too. Lavender oil should do the trick and help reduce possibility of infection and sepsis as well."

The assassin laughed heartily, nodding. "Sorry, it's just weird," he said when he saw Lavi's look. "I'm not used to such fussing. But it is really alright - you could even open it up if you wanted to, you know, look around. Okay, that sounded even worse." Allen chuckled nervously, shrugging. "I really have no idea why but the arm is fine despite everything that has happened to it. Not that I have... taken advantage of it too often." He added quickly, trying to sound as convincing as possible.

Suppressing a tired yawn, Allen sobered up.

"So, are you going to send the letter now?"

"If you say so," Lavi hummed, straightening up and retrieving his boots to slip on, nodding. "Yeah, I can have them sent off now. You can even come with me, if you want," he said. He paused to glance at the man. "Or you can stay here and take it easy, if you'd prefer. I won't be long. Your choice."

"I think I might use some sleep. I don't trust myself going out like this," Allen said, flexing his hand. "If you don't mind, of course."

Lavi nodded. "I understand," he sympathized, though he was watching Allen carefully. He seemed to be doing better, but still weary, not entirely back up to himself again. But that would take time and a kind of healing that medicine and remedies couldn't give him.

"Oh, and what are we going to do about that boy?" Allen asked, suddenly remembering the boy from the smithy. "Will you let the blacksmith know that I want my armor delivered?"

Maybe he could use this to his advantage somehow. If he kept Lavi as busy as possible, he could still check on the thing he sent Emil to fetch. Emil still had the key on him, so there was a high chance it might still be in place.

The second question caused him to pause. It wasn't as if he couldn't do it, but it would take longer. He wasn't sure about leaving Allen alone that long. Not just because of what he was worried about Allen himself, but he still wasn't sure if the man had truly not been followed. And it wasn't the other Assassins he was worried about having tailed him here.

"Yeah, I can do that too, if you want," he said finally, retrieving the letters and going to the door. "It'll take a little more time though."

"Please do. It would be for the best to talk to him alone, after all." He graced Lavi with a warm smile, patting the bed absentmindedly. "You mind if I use your bed?" He asked, trying to hide the slight excitement that spiked thought the body when Lavi didn't protest. His mind started racing right after that, throwing him images and thoughts about the hunter that was after him - especially how lucky he would be if he met him along the way - how he would enjoy tearing his throat to shreds.

Allen breathed in deeply, forcing himself to calm down. No, it wouldn't work like that. Not yet. Not while he still didn't have proper equipment.

"Yeah, 'course it's okay," Lavi assured with a dismissing sort of wave. He caught hints of a look he wasn't sure he liked, and for a moment he almost reconsidered, but he stopped himself from doing that.

You're not his babysitter, you're his friend, and you shouldn't even be that much, he reminded silently, forcing himself to move. If Allen decided to sneak off, really, what could he do about it? It wasn't his place to get involved, yet all the same, somehow he still managed to, up to a certain point at least.

Hell, he even got his own room away from Allen to keep them at least somewhat separate, and in only one day, the man managed to wander back and convince Lavi into letting him stay. Fate or God or whatever other force drove the world really had a twisted sense of humor.

He sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. It couldn't be helped. Allen had just lost two people to murder in less than a week. From what he could tell, the only ones in town that brought him comfort on any kind of interpersonal level. At this point, that only left Lavi, at least until Kanda showed up. Funny how he, probably the only person in the country right now, who couldn't get close to anyone, was having to be a source of comfort for someone else.

He really didn't care that Emil had died. Maybe it was cold of him, but it was true, and it was necessity. He'd seen far too many corpses than he thought a person rightly should have throughout life to let one more affect him, and he didn't get close to people. He'd gotten very good about keeping everyone at a distance.

Allen was the only true exception to that rule, and he intended to keep it that way. He had never meant to get close to Allen, either, not as a friend and certainly not as almost more than that, but there was always one unpredictable variable, one wild card, that couldn't be accounted for.

Allen was that wild card.

Shaking it from his mind once he reached the docks, he scoured up and down them for a suitable messenger for his letters, eyeing people and ships alike. He was in luck. He recognized one of the ships, smiling to himself. Time to get down to business.

Lavi was glad to find the ship that he did, greeted by the captain, a dark-skinned Algerian man who offered him a grin and a companionable hug as he spoke in Arabic. Lavi was friendly with him, striking up some brief conversation as the man teased him that he would be the only fool with red hair to step aboard a ship. Lavi sometimes had a hard time finding a ship that would take him, or had to cover his hair entirely, since it was often seen as an ill omen amongst seafarers. Gadiel was, luckily, not such a superstitious man, and a valuable connection to have.

He asked to see the man's "special wares" so they could speak more privately below deck, and managed to talk him into taking the letters for him, despite that it would be going slightly out of the man's way to deliver them.

Of course, it did help that he knew some valuable information that the man would be interested in. Something that would help the trader possibly come into a bit more wealth than he usually dealt in, and no shortage of smooth-talking to seal the deal.

Once he was certain the messages would make it safely in Gadiel's capable hands, he took the ferry across the water and sought out the blacksmith, as per Allen's request. Not to his surprise, the guy seemed to be in the same foul sort of mood as before. Lavi guessed it was simply his perpetual state of being.

"He said five days, and I've only had them for two," the man growled from where he was working. "I don't change the number of days once they're set. You tell him three more. Three more days, and he can have them back! Until then, I still have work to do on them."

Lavi only nodded, straightening up. "Fair enough." Lavi didn't take the time to point out that he hadn't actually said they needed the boy to deliver them right now, just that they needed them delivered once they were done, rather than picked up themselves. How the guy managed to stay in business was up to question. It certainly wasn't because of his sparkling personality, but the Assassin's took personal stock in him as an ally, so he guessed that it was simply the quality of his work. "Thanks for your time."

The man grumbled something at him, but he didn't catch it, and didn't ask for a repeat. He didn't think it was anything worth hearing anyway, probably just irritable complaints about one thing or another.

Having done both the things he set out to do, he turned and made his way back, even as he caught a glimpse of a recognizable figure out of the corner of his eye. It seemed that he still wasn't trusted to his own devices. Had Allen sent them to watch him, or were they acting on their own? It really could be either one.

Either way, it didn't matter. He was only focused on getting back and making sure the white-haired man was actually still there when he returned.

"Take care then..." The assassin piped in innocently at Lavi's retreating back, waving his hand.

Allen exhaled loudly as he heard Lavi close the door.

Now, it was his turn to take care of some business - and hopefully he will manage to do it before Lavi comes back. He counted to six-hundred calmly while he dressed.

After he was done he opened the door and slipped out, immediately climbing the wall to get on the roof. He was ready to dash off but he was stopped by a small group of assassins.

"We know what you want to do," one of them spoke up, making Allen frown.

"Go back to the den and don't follow neither me, nor him." The white-haired male said with a low voice.

"We swore to protect you and we will fulfill our duty, whether you like it or not. We don't care if you push us away - we promised our mentor to keep you safe, and since the hunter is going after your closest friends, we will be watching the redhead as well. He is the best chance to get to him at the moment."

Allen grit his teeth.

"Go back! Your mission is over. I don´t care what Kanda ordered you to do!" he threatened, his temper flaring again. Why wouldn´t they just leave him be?! They were making themselves into marvelous targets, and as if that wasn't enough, they wanted to use Lavi as bait.

"No," another assassin stepped in, "our mission just started."

Allen growled in frustration and dashed away, trying to force himself not to care. He noticed that only one of the assassins was following and thankfully keeping his distance. Soon enough, the man jumped down from the roof, blending into the crowd on the street.

The run to Galata Tower thankfully didn't take him too long, and as if luck suddenly decided to stand on his side, there were only few guards milling about the tower, not really paying attention to their surroundings.

Once he climbed up, he crouched in front of the little door, examining it for any damage. Finding that the door was untouched, Allen unlocked it and slipped in.

Taking care of the guards inside was a child's play, and not even five minutes after entering, he stood in the hidden chamber, fiddling with the lock on an old, silvery chest.

What he found inside made him fall backwards and cry out in horror. The heavy coppery stench of blood immediately filling the room.

There in the chest, on the top of his once stark white and silver armor, lay a human heart.

When Allen looked up, he saw the note nailed to the lid of the chest saying: "HIS BLOOD IS ON YOUR HANDS"