The chamber was now mostly empty of new devotees. The people who had entered through the red-marked door had for the most part come out looking...peaceful, at ease with themselves as they walked out now dressed in the robes of the Church. A couple though had come out rather quickly, looking distraught - and still dressed in their old clothes. So, if Nevin decided that the person on the other side of the door wasn't actually one of the cultists who had been responsible for what had happened to him, Nevin wouldn't stand out as the only person to pull back at the last moment. That was reassuring, as standing out in what he still felt was the middle of a hostile building would be a terrible idea.

And then he was the only one left who wasn't either already gone, or dressed in the robes of the church. He swallowed past the obstruction in his throat and started to walk forward, not even paying attention to the man who smiled and waved him through the doorway. The Alchemist was tense as he entered the room - so many things were riding on the outcome of what he saw in this room. If he had to fight, or fight his way out of here - it would be... a massacre, and he wasn't sure if he would win or lose it. With a deep breath, Nevin stepped past the metal door, and it swung closed behind him with a solid clang.

Nevin slowly looked around the room, taking in everything in the area he was now in. The four walls of the room were largely bare, free of any paraphernalia - the Church of Crimson didn't really hold any of that, so it didn't really surprise him. There was a candle in each corner, with panes of warm red glass placed around the so that the room was cast in a scarlet hue The real attention grabbers though were the ornate lines carved into the ground - lines that Nevin noticed were glowing faintly as he walked across them - and a small table in the center of the room. Upon the table sat a simple wooden bowl, red liquid singing to Nevin from inside of it, and a knife, one that matched the one on the preacher's hip, was beside it, blood glistening faintly on its edge. So, the people had had to cut themselves, an unannounced step in the procedure. Was this why the others had fled? it would be feasible then for him to do so - he did have all of the skin save for that upon his head covered up, perhaps if the 'founder' was not one of his foes he could use that as a reason to renege?

Speaking of the founder, where was he? The preacher had said that the man would examine them while they were stripping in this room. So then, would he be coming in? From where? Nevin looked around the room again, a frown slipping onto his features. He didn't think he had missed anyone else in the room, and there weren't exactly places to hide. Then the lines beneath his feet shimmered, and the preacher walked inside, closing the door behind him - just as he had done every other time, Nevin now realized.

"Ah, my fellow child. As I have done to the others, so must I do for you. I apologize for the deception - but I am the founder, masked by the benevolence of the Crimson."
 The man walked over to the bowl of red liquid and dipped one hand into it, bringing up the fluid. It was now that Nevin realized that the fluid strangely wasn't blood - it was something else, something... twisted? "Or, perhaps, that is not quite accurate. A moment." He tipped his head back, and let the fluid in his hand trickle down over his face. Nevin watched, horrified, as the face before him changed as the liquid ran across his skin.

"Ah, that is better. Perhaps, I should say, that I am changed by the benevolence of the Crimson, made better. This though, lets me take on my old form as necessary. Now then, shall we get a look at you good sir? Or is this the end of the line for you?" Sweet Crimson, even his voice had changed!