In the midst of the shattering reflections, one figure held steady.
Unlike the flickering masks or the writhing gears, this Phantom remained human—gaunt, weary, yet unmistakably flesh. His coat was ink-stained, his spectacles cracked, his hands scarred from decades at the draughting table.
Elric recognized him at once.
"Doctor Crowe," he breathed.
The figure inclined his head. His voice was hoarse, nothing like the booming certainty of the Phantom. "I was. A mathematician. A fool who believed perfection could be built from steel and sum. He consumed me… and yet he cannot erase me. A flaw inside his flawless engine."
Selene froze, her blade raised halfway. "You mean the bastard has been walking around with you trapped inside him?"
Crowe's reflection nodded. "A prisoner in his perfection. I am memory. And memory is imperfection, for it changes each time it is recalled. He cannot tolerate me, yet he cannot kill me."
Elric stepped closer, his breath shallow. "Then you are the key. Tell me how to end him."
Crowe's eyes met his, dark and tired. "Introduce choice. True choice. Not calculation, not logic, not predetermined outcome. A choice that cannot be solved. That alone will tear him apart."
But before Elric could press further, the reflection cracked—splintering into dust as the Phantom surged back, his infinite selves roaring in fury.
"You will not break me with ghosts," the machine-god thundered. "I am beyond man. Beyond flaw."
Yet Elric clutched the truth in his chest: choice was the weapon.