Charles's body shone with brilliant light.
Behind him, a shape began manifesting, glowing in both black and white simultaneously. The form hangs like a sigil, a towering mark of intersecting lines and crosses.
Wisps of black light trickled from the sigil's base, curling downward like smoke seeking ground.
Veins of white fire pulsed upward through its structure in a steady rhythm.
Swords appeared around Charles.
Beautiful blades materialized in a circle formation, each one perfect in construction. The symbol from his back's sigil appeared at every hilt, miniature versions of the towering mark, all glowing with the same black-white radiance.
Both stared at each other across twenty feet of cracked floor, and Reinhard's light blue eyes met the featureless black mask.
Three seconds passed in absolute silence before Reinhard switched to Angra Mainyu.
