Reinhard blinked before his brows furrowed. "This again? Did Odin do this?"

His mind raced through recent events.

Starting from falling into the tide, then finding himself in the realm, going through the various trials and confrontation with Angra Mainyu.

Then, after making Angra Mainyu curious, he touched the embers before leaving the place.

But Odin hadn't appeared during any of it. No time freezing, no appearance on a horse, no voice, no indication of Odin's involvement.

"But that shouldn't be, as he didn't appear..." Reinhard's voice trailed off, but then he recalled something. "Wait a minute."

He recalled Odin's words during the time he was trapped in the roots illusion.

The reason you can have Fenrir and even more Beast Spirits is that you are made up of more shards of yourself than the others.

"He said I could have a connection with more Beast Spirits..." Reinhard muttered the relevant portion aloud.

His light blue eyes tracked the symbol on his hand, following the serpent's coiled form, tracing wing patterns.

"And the way I formed one with Angra Mainyu was when I accepted it and took its hand. Was it then?"

He recalled the ember touching his palm, his fingers closing around it, and the promise made.

I will show you.

Reinhard's brows furrowed deeper, as uncertainty warred with growing realization. If Odin's explanation was accurate, then forming connections didn't require the original Beast Spirit's intervention.

The capacity existed within Reinhard and the Beast Spirit itself, with his soul somehow allowing the multiple connections.

But that begs the question, what is the condition for the connection to be made?

He tapped into the symbol, and then crimson wings erupted from his back. Instantly, a flash of crimson illuminated the area before two massive wings easily spanning fifteen feet.

They flowed like liquid fire with the edges trailing wisps of crimson-black energy that dissipated into the air.

Reinhard felt the wings flap; the motion was instinctive, requiring no conscious thought. They beat once, creating a downdraft that stirred ash around his position. The power was tangible and with enough force to lift his entire body if directed properly.

Knowledge flooded his mind, and direct comprehension of wings' capabilities, limitations, and potential applications. Flight was obvious, but also a projection, the wings could extend outward like weapons. Then there was defense, they could wrap around his body, creating a barrier against attacks.

The information arrived complete, organized, and accessible.

He thought of a cloak, and the wings shifted immediately.

They folded, compressed, transformed. Within a single second, the massive wingspan had become a flowing cloak draped across his shoulders. The material felt substantial despite appearing translucent, the weight suggesting real fabric rather than an energy construct.

The cloak moved with him naturally, following body motion without tangling or impeding movement.

He thought of weapons, and the cloak dissolved.

Crimson-black energy flowed down both arms, condensing in his hands. Two swords materialized, each one identical in size and shape. The blades were straight, double-edged, and gleaming with light that glowed. The hilts fit his grip perfectly, balanced as if custom-forged for his hands specifically.

"So it can shift into things I want..."

Reinhard's voice carried wonder mixed with confusion. The versatility exceeded other Beast Spirit manifestations he'd witnessed. Zenuken and Hjorleifa were fixed forms. But this...

"Huh? Wait, how is that..." His brows furrowed again. The swords dissolved back into energy, flowing around his body before settling as a faint aura barely visible against the grey sky.

Reinhard glanced at the tide below. The crimson-black flames continued their movement, waves rising and falling without pattern or purpose. But something felt different now; he felt a connection existed where before there had been only separation.

He raised his hand toward the tide, and then the flames trembled.

The entire surface shuddered as if recognizing his presence, acknowledging authority. A section rose upward, defying gravity as it lifted into the air. The flame formed a column ten feet high and continued shooting up with specs of flames falling.

Reinhard lowered his hand.

The column descended immediately. It merged back into the main tide seamlessly, losing individual identity as it rejoined the whole.

"I have control over the tide?" His voice carried disbelief despite the evidence displayed before him. His eyes tracked the flames' continued movement, noting how patterns shifted slightly in response to his attention.

"Ahh, I see. It's a passive ability..."

He felt the tide calling, not through words but a sensation similar to a pull. The connection established through the ember now functioned as a conduit, allowing communication beyond language.

Reinhard approached the edge again. His boots found a stable position at the boundary between solid ground and consuming flames. His hand extended, palm facing downward toward the tide.

He placed his hand on the surface.

The flames felt oddly warm, like the warmth of sunlight on the skin. The sensation spread up his arm, through his shoulder, across his chest. The connection deepened, expanded, allowing access to something vast.

Voices flooded his mind.

Not individual conversations but collective noise. He could hear thousands of voices speaking simultaneously, and while it should have been overwhelming, it wasn't.

His mind could handle this man as a Second Class Beast Master without much trouble, but he then noted something.

His mind was able to process each voice and accurately tell the difference without any trouble.

Luminous Knights are questioning frantically. "What the hell is this tide? Where did it come from?"

Seekers screaming orders. "Keep going up! Avoid the tide at all costs!"

Phantasm Beasts shrieking, the beasts were rushing over the debris, and their footsteps echoed over the area. He felt their emotions bleeding through, which was fear of the crimson-black flames that surged through the area.

But also confusion, anger at circumstances beyond control, desperate hope that escape remained possible. Then one voice cut through the chaos with familiar authority.

"Saint Lucian... What do you think you're doing? How could you betray everyone like this?"

Reinhard quickly realized it was Vlad, the last Ancestor. His voice carried disbelief mixed with rage, the betrayal striking deeper than any physical wound.

Reinhard paused, and his entire body froze at the name spoken. He wondered if Saint Lucian was the friend Honor was talking about, it would make sense.

He frowned as he recalled Honor's words and the reason behind his going so far to gain the Star Jewel.

Because before I am a Luminous Knight and the Red Priest, I am his friend.

Reinhard focused on where Vlad's voice originated. He concentrated on the connection, following the thread of consciousness back to its source. The tide responded to his intent, shifting to accommodate his search.

Images appeared in his head.

He could feel the vision transmitted through the tide of almost omnipresent nature. The scene materialized with perfect clarity as if he stood there personally.

Saint Lucian held the Star Jewel. The golden orb rested in his hands, metal claws catching light. His expression was calm, controlled, showing no remorse or uncertainty despite accusations surrounding him.

Vlad stood nearby with crimson stakes manifested. The weapons gleamed with deadly intent, poised for attack but not yet committed.

His weathered face showed emotions between betrayal, rage, and confusion at the trusted ally's actions.

Brunhilde gripped her weapon with white-knuckled intensity. Her usual composure had shattered completely, replaced by an expression mixing disbelief and fury.

Marie, Joseph, Janus, Amiya, and Veryn surrounded Saint Lucian in a loose circle. All displaying varying expressions of disbelief, giving way to anger, anger transforming to rage as implications registered.

Reinhard's frown deepened as he watched through the tide's vision, understanding spreading like poison through his thoughts.

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