The charcoal moved in Ginsei's steady hand, carving precise geometric patterns into the cracked plaster.
Unlike Mochi's theatrical scribbles, these sigils held Bureau-grade precision—intersecting circles within hexagons, runic inscriptions flowing between containment barriers.
"Ward of Spiritual Equilibrium, class seven containment protocol," Ginsei muttered, adding the final flourish.
"If we're doing this ridiculous cleansing ritual, we're doing it properly."
Kane watched from the couch, recognizing the familiar BSA markings from training manuals.
"That's way more advanced than shop-grade warding."
"Some of us take our craft seriously," Ginsei replied coolly, stepping back to admire his handiwork.
He pressed his palm against the central sigil, channeling serpentine energy into the ward.
The reaction was immediate and violent.
Silver light erupted from the sigil like a flare, followed by answering crimson fire that blazed across every line and curve.
