The Sanctum pulsed with light. Every reflection of the Phantom spoke in unison, a thousand voices forming a single truth.
"You think me monster. You think me tyrant. Yet all I have done is remove the cruelties of chance. No hunger, no betrayal, no despair—only order. Only the end of error."
Selene snarled, blades flashing in her hands. "You call that order? You're devouring souls and cities!"
The Phantom's reflections smiled as one. "And what is a soul, if not flawed machinery? What is a city, if not a broken gear? I have merely… corrected them."
Evangeline fell to her knees, clutching her head as the voices assaulted her. "He's inside me—inside all of us—"
Elric stepped forward, cane tapping against the glass floor, his face grim but unyielding.
"You've built a flawless world, Phantom. But you forgot the one truth no gear, no sum, no machine can erase."
The reflections tilted their heads. "And what is that, detective?"
Elric raised his chalk once more, scrawling the paradox on the mirrored panel nearest him: Perfection requires imperfection to exist.
The Sanctum trembled violently. Reflections cracked, voices split. The Phantom's infinite selves flickered, some screaming, others silent, still others laughing with madness.
For the first time, the Architect of Perfection faltered.
And Elric knew: the true battle had begun.