The elevator shaft was cold and dry, no longer in use but humming faintly with energy. Eiríkur dropped first, frost collecting on his boots the moment he hit the surgical steel platform at the bottom. Akira landed beside him — silent, haunted, and paler than ever.
Touka and Kaneki followed.
The hallway ahead pulsed with a cold, bluish-white glow. RC energy in the air felt thick, almost sentient.
"This place," Eiríkur murmured, "was built to birth monsters."
Kaneki stared ahead. "Then it's fitting that one of us ends it."
The group reached the main lab: a wide, cathedral-like room of bio-glass and rune-etched containment pods. Cold vapor hissed from vents. Electrodes crackled.
And standing at the far end — at the foot of a high surgical platform — was Dr. Kanou.
Still calm. Still smiling.
"I was beginning to wonder if you would disappoint me, Eiríkur."
Eiríkur didn't reply. His body was already shifting — runes pulsing across his ribs, frost collecting in the air.
"I created you," Kanou said. "Or, more precisely, I freed what you were always meant to become. Wouldn't you like to see what your potential looks like… without your moral infection?"
Kanou turned and pressed his hand to a glowing panel.
A pod opened.
The Draugr Mirror
What stepped out was… him.
Identical face. Identical scars. Identical runes.
But its eyes were empty. White, soulless. It breathed without heat, moved without hesitation. It had no name. No thought. Only purpose.
KJ-Mirror.
Akira stepped forward. "That's… not him."
"No," Kanou replied. "It's him without the weight of his past. No weakness. No grief. Just legacy made weapon."
Eiríkur whispered, almost to himself, "He doesn't feel…"
KJ-Mirror lunged.
Faster than Eiríkur expected. Its kagune — identical in structure — struck with mathematical precision. It didn't waste energy on expression or emotion. It mimicked only power.
Eiríkur countered, launching Fimbulbrand, but the Mirror froze its own body to counter the slowing field.
Akira fired three shots into the Mirror's side — ineffective.
Kanou simply observed, taking notes.
During the battle, Kaneki and Touka swept through the side corridors — destroying backup tanks, releasing cryogenically frozen ghoul remains, sabotaging data banks.
In one sealed sub-chamber, Kaneki found it:
A black crystal vial, humming faintly with cold light.
A label etched in old Norse script.
"Fjörviðr. The Blood of the First Draugr."
Kaneki passed the vial to Eiríkur mid-fight — narrowly avoiding a blade to the face.
"It's your origin," he shouted. "The thing that woke your bloodline. Kanou planned to replicate it."
Eiríkur caught it mid-spin, held it in his palm. It vibrated violently against his skin — recognizing its kin.
The voices screamed.
"Drink it." "Burn it." "Bury it in her." "Be the god you were meant to be."
KJ-Mirror struck again — nearly impaling Akira.
Eiríkur turned.
And made a decision.