Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Descent ❯ Descent ( Chapter 3 )

Key:
Telepathic Communication.
Emphasis.

Key: ((Telepathic Communication)) *Emphasis*

-- Descent: Chapter Three --

Schuldich refused to discuss what he had seen in the car, nor would he explain why he'd said what he had. Crawford only observed that he seemed more protective of him. Now they were at the site of the ruins, he led the way and was keeping a wary eye on their surroundings. Anyone else would have run away, Crawford thought, but not Schuldich. That was true strength.

"Eszet are already here," Schuldich told him. "They've already dug the site up. I imagine that the agents that 'phoned us passed the information to contacts who were stationed here."

"Have they got the chalice?" Crawford asked immediately.

"No," Schuldich said slowly. He squeezed his eyes shut and looked as if he was concentrating intensely. It was no surprise, considering how much psychic protection an Eszet agent in this situation would use. "In fact, many of them have been killed by traps left by the monks who guarded the place."

"Traps?"

"I told you," he grinned. "It's Indiana Jones."

Crawford sighed inwardly and ignored this. "Can you get any more information from them?"

Schuldich shook his head. "There's three of them. I can show you where they are, and the entrance. After that, it's up to us to kill as many of them as we can before they can kill us."

Crawford nodded grimly, and felt for the gun that Schuldich had made the security at the airport ignore.

They walked further, treading over eroded blocks of stone embedded in the grass. The surroundings were remarkably bland, as the site was was not built high enough even to offer much of view of the ordinary country roads along which they had just travelled. Crawford could appreciate why this place was not highly recommended by the tourist guide.

As he walked on towards the direction that Schuldich was indicating, he felt a tingling sensation right between his eyes. It travelled down his body and pushed against every part of him. He struggled to stay upright, and to keep walking.

Over the next grass dune, he spied two agents standing guard beside a medium-sized tent. Mounds of earth surrounded it and he noticed that the stone slabs scattered around it formed what could loosely be termed 'foundations'. Crawford considered it to be a reasonable assumption that this was where the entrance had been hidden over eight hundred years ago.

He took out his revolver, and waited until Schuldich did the same. They were near enough to be within range for their type of gun, although it was still a difficult shot. Crawford held out the weapon and waited for the familiar feeling he got when he knew he was right on target. It never came, and he had to finally admit it to himself; his uncanny ability with a gun had little to do with natural skill.

Schuldich didn't wait for him, and one Eszet agent collapsed in a fine spray of blood. The second looked horrified for a fraction of a second, then this expression was transferred to movement as he used the tent for cover and started firing in their direction. Schuldich returned the shots, but only achieved the destruction of the tent.

Crawford held up his revolver and pulled the trigger. There was only a 'click', which confused him. He no longer understood the object in his hands and he threw it to the ground. The raw sensation that he felt when he first arrived crept up on him again. This time, he embraced the feeling. Hell, it was benefiting him, so why not?

He breathed in boiling air that bubbled into his lungs and penetrated his mind. He pushed his arm out and, just like the night before, everything slowed. The person that soundlessly dived over the dune, whom fired randomly without a gunshot to be heard; his soul was wrapped inside out and repossessed. When the third team member emerged from the tent, he received the same.

Crawford calmly noted the expression on these agent's faces and the smell of burning flesh in the air. He smiled.

Schuldich did not. "It's got its claws in you. It already knows that you'll be the one to succeed."

Crawford saw the scowl on his partner's face and it no longer seemed to be enough to just smile at what he'd done. He broke down into laughter that shook his entire frame.

Schuldich grabbed him and held him close until the breathless gasps ceased. "This is a test. If you can't deal with this now, then you're not fit to possess the chalice," Schuldich told him, then sighed. "At least, I think that's the message we're meant to be getting."

Crawford pushed the other man away. "Forget what just happened. Please." He gritted his teeth and breathed in deeply. Without waiting to see if Schuldich was following, he entered the tent.

It was cold inside, sheltered as it had been from the early afternoon sun. Now, yellow streams of light pushed through the bullet holes in the material, giving the area a supernatural glow. A ladder led down at the far end, and Crawford descended without hesitation.

At the bottom, the rusty aftertaste of blood permeated the air. Crawford looked around the cavern and spotted an Eszet agent propped up against a boulder to his left. Her ribcage was shattered and strings of flesh trailed from the wound. Her blood flowed through the soil, turning it to sticky mud.

Crawford observed from a distance. If only Jei were here, the sight would surely remind him of the simple pleasures he'd enjoyed as Farfarello. He pushed this thought from his mind and concentrated on the area around the corpse. There were no obvious traps, but most likely she had been carefully placed there. If he were to examine her more closely, most likely something would be triggered.

Once he had decided they were safe as long as they left the body alone, Crawford turned his attention to the far side of the cavern. The area was paved with square stone slabs, some of which had fallen away allowing crimson light to filter through to the top level. Beyond it was an opening to a tunnel.

He approached carefully while making sure that Schuldich copied his steps exactly. It was no use him avoiding the traps if his companion triggered them.

"I'm inside your mind," the telepath reminded him. "I know your every move."

Crawford stared at him before returning his gaze on the flickering red of the section ahead of them. He shifted his consciousness, but still couldn't feel a thing. That tiny space inside his head that he'd reserved for his lover felt empty.

Now he was closer, he could see that there was a symbol on each stone. There were intricately carved loaves of bread, fish, babies, locusts, swords, and many other images as well. Taking into account that some had fallen away and that Schuldich had referred to the monks' traps, Crawford thought it likely that there was only one way across. The obvious solution, he considered with a smile, was to check underneath the slabs. He began his approach in order to check, but it was was almost impossible as the heated atmosphere was unbearable. The humid air condensed immediately when it hit him and slid down his spine. He shivered.

Schuldich's voice interrupted his thoughts. "There were a lot of loaves and fish in the Bible, right? Maybe we've got to step only on those slabs."

"No, I don't think so." Crawford clenched and unclenched his fists at what he could only describe as the stupidest suggestion he'd ever heard. "There'll be a definite connection between the symbols."

Schuldich laughed. "I still think you should think about Bible references. They were monks who wanted only the right people to find the chalice, after all."

Crawford flipped through the manuscript to see if there was any additional information. He had to admit that it probably contained hundreds of years of secret knowledge hidden amongst the poetry and prayers, but he just didn't have the time anymore. He returned it to his inner pocket. "Didn't you study any Biblical texts for the ritual?" he asked. "I know some passages off by heart just by talking things through with Farfarello on his 'off' days."

"You know your enemy," Schuldich said, his voice echoing eerily around the cavern.

"Yes, exactly." Crawford searched Schuldich's eyes for any evidence that the Being might also have got hold of his partner. He was momentarily wary of that attractive blue glint in the irises, but it had always been there.

"But I ...During the ritual, I was draining the information off you."

"How would we manage without you?" Crawford sighed. Still, despite his claims of knowledge gleaned from Farfarello, that man often had a method to his madness, the most common being afflictions and plagues against humanity. He remembered the very last time Schwarz were together in Japan and the way Farfarello hung upside down in his straitjacket incoherently chanting a list of punishments that God had brought upon mankind and begging Him to inflict one -- just one -- upon him. He had started at the beginning, at Genesis, and had only just reached the New Testament after five hours. There used to be a lot of days like that.

He ran his eyes over the tiles again, his attention drawn to a black one in the middle, clearly made from a different type of stone than the rest. Maybe 'Schwarz' was the better term, since he was in Germany. He almost smiled at this, but instead concentrated on the way it stood out so clearly, that he felt it must form one of the stepping stones. Did it represent darkness? How many instances of darkness were there in the Bible anyway? Creation? The crucifixion?

It hit him. The afflictions and plagues in Egypt. The list to which Farfarello had always given the most attention. He was delighted to see that all of them were represented as carvings before him. The darkness, of course. A river of dark water, frogs, lice, flies ...all of them were there.

Schuldich clicked his tongue in disgust.

Crawford turned to face him. "We summoned The One for a brief period of time, and you don't believe in this?"

"Course I believe in this. I also believe in florist-assassins, but it still doesn't mean I like them all that much. It's my job, you understand."

Crawford started to walk back in order to get a run up, looking from the first stone and back to where he was standing. "I understand," he said, without taking his eyes from the stones.

He began the run up, taking perfect evenly-paced strides.

"Wait!"

Crawford skidded to a halt just in time. The tile just in front of him, the one he had knocked ever-so-slightly, crumbled and fell away.

"I just remembered something! Indiana Jones was named after his dog, not a state at all!"

"What!?" For the first time ever, Crawford experienced it. A sense of utter surprise and disbelief, not to mention exasperation.

"Did you have a dog as a child?"

"Yes!" he snapped. "It was called Goliath!" He returned his attention to the tiles.

"Goliath..." Schuldich grinned and shook his head. "That's not even worth the effort. ...Oh, and practice the jump first, yeah?"

Crawford turned to face Schuldich, stunned at the obviousness of the statement. "You could have just said that. Why do you put so much effort into trying sound like an idiot?"

"It's called 'feigning ignorance'. You should try it some time, then maybe people wouldn't think of you as so pompous." Schuldich drew a line in the dirt with his foot, then threw a small pebble a few metres away from it. "Still, what d'you expect from those kind of morons?" he grinned. "Aim for the rock."

Crawford took the same run up, made the same kind of jump he had planned in his head, and overshot his target by what would have been several tiles had he made the attempt over the pit.

He deliberately chose not to meet Schuldich's eyes as he practiced what should have been a very simple task. Judging distances was impossible now that he didn't have that reassuring feeling in the back of his mind that told him when he was right. After the first few tries, he was becoming aware that that was what he had to do, as more Eszet agents were liable to be arriving soon.

When he was landing right on the pebble every single time, Crawford made the leap.

As his feet left the ground, it occurred to him that he really hadn't double-checked that his guess about the tiles was at all plausible. Only the practice that he had gone through previously stopped his body from reflexively twisting in the air at the thought of failure.

The tips of his shoes touched the target tile and he felt the ground give way beneath him. He instinctively put out the palms of his hand, and felt surprise when they hit something hard and flat. Just his legs had given way, not the floor.

Shaking, he got to his feet and looked to the next tile. This jump felt easier. He accomplished it successfully enough that he felt he could turn around and look at Schuldich again.

His partner landed cat-like in the space he had been occupying previously. He smirked and threw back his head so his long red hair fell back into place and out of his eyes.

There it was again. That feeling. The knowledge that Schuldich was his equal. Could match him in anything. He managed a small smile and made the remaining jumps without incident.

Crawford looked ahead at the tunnel opening and became aware of a grinding sound emanating from the entrance. He remembered that he had a torch back in the car.

"More Eszets've arrived," Schuldich told him. "We should keep going."

Schuldich took his turn to to lead. The shadows twisted to surround him as he entered making him seem darker than their surroundings.

The swish and grate got louder until it drowned out the pair's footsteps.

Schuldich turned round and began to open his mouth as if to speak. Instead his eyes grew wide and glimmered pale blue in the blackness.

"Crawford ...!"

"What? Keep moving, or the agents will catch up."

"You ...For a second I thought ..." He continued walking. "Why is Lucifer only chasing you? Only affecting you? Am I ...Am I not good enough?"

"I've no idea," said Crawford a bit too quickly. He gave Schuldich a quick push to speed him up.

"You've worked it out, haven't you? Only one of us can possess it, right? After all, you never drink to friendship or love with Lucifer's cup and it's already chosen you!"

He lunged forward using his momentum to spin himself round and brought his fist upwards, striking Crawford's jaw. "So what the fuck happens to me!?" he screamed.

Crawford staggered and just managed to block the next blow. There was no follow-through, and when he looked up he could see that Schuldich had drawn back into a defensive fighting pose.

Schuldich broke into a satisfied smile. "But if I give up because the future tells us I won't succeed, then that's a self-fulfilling prophecy."

"You'll be killed. Either way, you can't win this one."

Without even acknowledging what he was doing, Schuldich began to bite his fingernails and tear at the skin surrounding them. Still smiling, "I'd rather die trying than watch you become more powerful than me."

Crawford stared at him, struck by his fierceness. "I respect that." It occurred to him then that Lucifer would never be so obvious. It would allow them the truth ...sometimes. It would lie to them easily most other times. If he wanted to understand, then he himself would have to look at what was actually being done to them. Right now, it all seemed like a large-scale practical joke with the mastermind behind it having no clue of the outcome either. It surely meant that the changes he was experiencing did not reflect who would benefit from the chalice at all. One look at Schuldich told him all he needed to know about the man's audacity, his independence, his intelligence ...Schuldich's worthiness, not his own.

His attention was dragged to the situation at hand as the tunnel opened out into a chamber lit by torches that burned endlessly blue. He could also see what was making those noises. Thousands of scythes and knives moved across through the floor, the walls and the ceiling. The atmosphere buzzed with the movement of millipedes, their black segmented bodies wound their way in and out of cracks and the slits in the rock that provided a path for the blades.

Again, Crawford could see a pattern to it. He forced himself not to think of the revolting creatures with which the room pulsated. If he had anything which might be considered a 'phobia', millipedes would be it. They had far more legs than were necessary. It was Crawford's opinion that their Designer -- whosoever he or she might be -- should have restricted themselves to just eight.

"Aha! This one's easy!" crowed Schuldich. "We jump onto the scythes on the ceiling and jump our way across to the other side."

It was a good plan and it would be easy to get on top of the scythes that swung from side to side on the ceiling. The little grooves on the handles would make hanging on very simple. Little grooves ...? Oh.

"Go on, jump up," Schuldich encouraged him.

"Wait, there has to be another way across," Crawford said, putting his hand in front of Schuldich to form a barrier between him and the machinery.

"Ah. I see," said Schuldich, having glimpsed Crawford's mind.

The scythes had channels cut into them that probably contained daggers or a similar weapon. Could the handles really be touch-sensitive? After all, the torches still burned after hundreds of years. He didn't give in to the urge to shiver.

"So, we have to run through all these things at just the right time. I can do that."

"I'll go first," insisted Crawford, although he knew he couldn't practice the course this time.

"Why is that?" asked Schuldich, wrapping his arms tightly around his partner's waist. "Is it so you'll be able to justify my death at the end, hm?"

"Your death?"

He squeezed tighter. "The only part of your soul you haven't given away is your loyalty to Schwarz, but my death would neatly solve that problem, wouldn't it?"

Crawford turned around and kissed him roughly, pushing his tongue deep inside Schuldich's mouth, exploring every jagged edge and every moist corner. It was over all too soon, and Crawford broke off contact to walk over and pick up the nearest torch. "I'll do what I can," he said. "And so will you, I'm sure."

Even though his hand was far away from the ember, he could feel its icy glow against his face. He brought it nearer and stared at the frosty flame until a silver bead of sweat -- or was it something else? -- ran down his cheek.

His lover was strangely quiet, he noticed. Turning around, he saw him sitting in the mouth of the tunnel. His eyes told Crawford that he'd retreated to another's mind, not for the first time today. It wasn't hard to guess to whom it belonged.

"Naoe?"

"... Has snapped and tried to kill Tot. Thank God," he snickered. "I thought I was going to be the only one left. Just a little more encouragement to stop him holding back and he'll be mine."

Crawford held his hand out to Schuldich. The other man accepted it, and he hauled him to his feet.

"We're second-guessing ourselves. That stops now."

Schuldich shrugged. "I thought you always believed in preparing for the worst."

Crawford turned to face the bladed machinery again. "That was when I knew what the worst would be," he murmured as his eyes traced the path that they'd have to take. Beautiful in its simplicity and rhythm, it required that he run a few steps and then lie down while keeping his feet tucked away. Then, he need to stand and repeat until the tunnel entrance.

He did, at least, know that he was capable of this. The problems were that there might be variations in the blades' patterns over a certain time scale. Then there were the millipedes. The more he watched them surge and fall in the same winding patterns as the machinery, the sicker he felt. He casually leaned against the tunnel so as not to alert Schuldich.

Nevertheless, he saw Schuldich jerk his head up and knew he'd been found out. He deliberately walked to the beginning of the metal labyrinth and, with a steely-eyed glare behind him, he ran a few steps immediately after the first two buzzsaws zipped past.

"Makes me so fucking sick, you know," called out Schuldich from behind him.

Crawford ignored him and looked down at the living tapestry of insects throbbing at his feet, then at the axe that swung towards him. He fell forwards and felt the brief gush of heated air just glance past the top of his head.

"The previous room ...?"

Schuldich's voice cut through his thoughts as surely as the blades would cut through his body. Was he trying to make this more difficult for him! He almost forgot about the need to tuck his legs in and brought his knees quickly up and under himself, scooping up millipedes and pushing them towards his face. A loud 'clunk' informed him that he almost hadn't been quick enough, and that the saws had removed a chunk of shoe.

"It was a Biblical knowledge quiz on information that only you'd know, almost just to see if you were paying attention!"

The millipedes had gathered around his neck, around the entrance to his collar. His heart pounded in his throat, blood roared in his ears.

"Now this, a test of courage aimed exclusively at you."

Now he was lying on top of a bed of spindles that punched through the floors at various intervals. He thrust himself to his feet and lunged forwards, arching his back suddenly as a spear shot across the room.

"You'd think I'd take the fucking hint, wouldn't you?" Schuldich stamped his feet and dived into the mess of insects and steel.

Crawford ran past the next set of buzzsaws and began the cycle again. When he reached the other side of the room, he inspected the damage that the room had done to his clothing and wondered why he ever thought that wearing white was a good idea. Brown-green insectoid smear covered his jacket, with thousands of tiny limbs smooshed against the knees of his trousers.

When Schuldich emerged, his jacket was in the same condition. Somehow Crawford felt the blood, whether insect or otherwise, suited him nicely.

"Thanks," said Schuldich, disdainfully brushing the worst off anyway. He blinked twice. "You told Sally where we were going, didn't you?"

"Yes," he winced. Even without precognition he knew what was coming next. "She wanted to make us packed lunches and needed to know how far we were travelling so she could use sandwich fillings that would survive different lengths of journey ..."

"Deceitful bitch. Bet you feel pretty stupid, hm?"

"Who's here?"

"Pretty stupid, yeah?"

Crawford grunted in a way that could be described as agreement.

"Only Jei." He grinned and started towards the next room.

A sinking feeling hit Crawford that hammered inside him. Maybe this was the ending that had been planned by Lucifer all this time. Farfarello had always been his most affectionate disciple, and he was the one whom had been sent the manuscript. And, for all Schuldich's claims of the previous tests being tailored to him, there was that one other person who would be able to navigate the rooms as well.

The room had a immense feeling of space and openness, despite the low ceiling. An incredible gorge dominated the room and the air roared agressively between the two sides. The only way across were seven keystone bridges, each assigned their own number.

"Say, do you think all those bridges are safe?" joked Schuldich.

They looked at each other and mouthed the word 'no'.

Crawford stared at the bridges and tried to link their numbers together. Seventy-two. Twelve. One hundred and thirty-one. Sixty-one. Forty-two. Seventy. Sixty hundred and sixty-six. What did all but one have in common? Or why was only one significant?

He kept staring in turn at each bridge, and was struck by the tranquility of the place. He closed his eyes and let the refreshing air wash over him, blowing his fringe back and drying the perspiration that had formed in the previous two rooms.

His entire body spasmed as a familiar cry rang out behind them. He took in deep breaths of the cool breeze in order to slow his rapidly beating heart, and turned around to meet the man who had made that sound.

The scream. The blood dripping from his hands. Still standing, despite the gashes over his entire body. This wasn't Jei.

Farfarello sprung forwards, grabbed a handful of Schuldich's hair and wrenched it downwards, smashing his his head into the ground, face first. He struck him once with his boot, hard. "Hell ...has many forms. Today it was a sixteen year-old sobbing desperately down the phone while his girlfriend screams as he tries not to kill her."

Schuldich tried to push himself upward, but his arms failed him. "Sorry."

Crawford immediately took advantage of the attention that the other man was paying to Schuldich. An elbow strike to the floating ribs sent Farfarello to the floor. His eyelids fluttered pitifully, but he was still alive. Shame. Crawford had hoped that bone fragments would puncture his lungs.

Schuldich managed to sit himself upright. "You're too late."

In reply, Farfarello coughed up grey blood over his jacket. He hacked up more unknown fluids before he was able to speak. "I ...will come back to you ... and Schwarz ...if you don't take Nagi ..."

"It's a deal," Schuldich managed to choke as blood bubbled down the side of his mouth. Schuldich pulled at Crawford's sleeve and tried to stand. The other man held his wrist tenderly, and helped Schuldich as he began to stand. Without warning, Crawford swept Schuldich's nearest foot from under him, sending him back to the floor. He twisted into a Dragon stance and brought his fist down into the telepath's ribs.

Crawford liked breaking bones. They made a loud cracking sound that he could really appreciate.

He now turned his attention back to the bridges, truly invigorated. It was simple numerology, after all, and he had studied that in detail to perform the Eszet ritual. Some were numbers associated with heaven, and some were associated with the demonic.

Six-six-six stood out. So very obvious, and a distraction for amateurs. Others, such as seventy-two, twelve and forty-two were the numerological values of various names of God. Each character in the Hebrew alphabet was represented by a number. Therefore, important Names had their own number that could be found by adding up the letter values. Once this was done, fascinating patterns could be discovered. An example? Man became naught, value sixty-one, through association with the Devil, value seventy. Add them together and you got one hundred and thirty-one, the number of Samael. Or Lucifer. Whatever you wanted to call him. Maths was a holy language.

Crawford smiled. Rightly or wrongly, he knew which bridge he would take. Maybe it was divine inspiration, but he knew then the side to which he belonged, the side that owned him.

He could remind himself all day that the traps were supposedly set by God-fearing monks, but when it came down to it he was here for a pact with Lucifer. And that ...entity, for lack of a better word ...was watching over him.

He took the bridge labelled one hundred and thirty-one with no further hesitation. His legs did not crumble when he reach the keystone in the centre of the bridge. Neither, he was relieved to discover, did the bridge.

It was only when he had crossed safely did he look back. Something had tugged at the limits of his hearing. A dripping sound. An uncertain foostep.

Schuldich had started his way across the bridge. His body rocked back and forth, but he was standing nevertheless. I never give up, he gasped. Crawford ...Brad? If I get the chalice, I'll live. So please ...

Crawford spun on his heel, turning his back to Schuldich. It was the final insult, a way to tell the other man that he was no threat to him anymore.

***

The final room. Crawford had reflexively closed his eyes when he had entered. The ruby burned with unearthly brilliance, shooting straight into his eyes. Blinding, shining light. No wonder its original owner wanted it back.

Crawford examined the room. No obvious traps, just that amazing gem standing in the centre.

He walked forward carefully, making sure that he set off no more traps. It soon became clear that there weren't any. What there was was a series of carvings in the wall, the floor, and the ceiling. He recognised them, of course. Holy words, secret and mystical symbols, protective prayers. All forming a powerful magical barrier against unholy influences.

It suddenly became clear. This was the only barrier that the monks had created. The one obstacle that would ensure the wrong person didn't acquire the chalice. Everything else had been designed by Lucifer ...A Creature whose only weakness was the seals.

A muffled thump.

Not for the first time that day, Crawford jumped, heart beating fast. He turned around, only to find Schuldich slumped just outside the entrance. The man just shook his head sadly.

Crawford walked onwards to the centre. He double-checked the stone stand that the chalice stood on. It was solid and, since the monks were the ones who had built this room, he had no real reason to think it would be booby-trapped.

He took it, and held it. He caressed its flawlessly cut sides and wondered what the hell he was meant to do now.

He heard a sound that he realised, with a stab of self-doubt, was Schuldich getting to his feet again. You'd kill me? Me, who's been your companion and your lover all this time? You'd ...kill me?

Crawford looked him up and down. The blood dripping from his face, and the jacket soaked in crimson. The pitiful expression.

He grinned, and walked over to him, holding the chalice as far away from Schuldich as possible.

I ...love you.

"How convenient for you to tell me that now. You must be desperate." Crawford put his free arm around Schuldich's shoulder, rubbing gently at the wonderfully tense muscles.

"All I can offer you ...is a quick death."

His hand moved swiftly to Schuldich's neck, and snapped it with a crack.

Whatever had been special about that room vanished. It felt empty, and the chalice seemed worthless. He suddenly felt very cold, and he hugged the dull, colourless cup to his chest, hanging his head to stare downwards at it.

He felt arms round his own neck, hands that worked at the tight knot of muscles at his own neck. Instead of hurting him, they stroked and welcomed him. He moved into their embrace with just a hint of resignation.

"You'd kill me? Me, who's been your companion and your lover all this time? You'd ...kill me?"

Crawford's head snapped around to see Schuldich grinning at him. The wounds had vanished, although the blood remained. No matter. Schuldich had always looked more beautiful that way.

"I like that in a man."

Schuldich snickererd, and Crawford couldn't help but join in. He looked at the Chalice and offered it to the other ....man?

"This belongs to you, I suppose. Evil, scheming bastard that you are."

Schuldich ran his fingers through Crawford's hair. "The question always remained --"

"Do I have the courage to agree to be your equal?" Crawford finished for him. His precognition was slowly creeping back to him in warm waves of recognition, with just a little fear.

He realised that Schuldich, or whatever you wanted to call him, was waiting for an answer. Crawford nodded with the self-belief of a man who has seen everything, and followed his eternal lover into the darkness.

-- Descent: Owari (Brief explanation follows, if you need it ;-) ) --

Explanation: Crawford gave the Chalice back to its 'original owner' and the person with whom he'd been seeking a pact: Lucifer/Schuldich. Tot and Nagi will be back together and happy, thanks to Farfarello's own deal with Schuldich.