Filters really were important.
Nothing had changed, and yet everything had.
As the greatsword sank deeper into the Red Sand, the entire nightmare took on a completely different feel.
In theory, all that had changed was that the light had dimmed a little and the temperature had dropped.
But at a glance, the scene of a dead sea and rotting remains, twisted to the point of utter decay, now evoked something more like the desolation of lying on Pluto.
The headless suit of armor kneeling there was a human effigy, executed and abandoned in the depths of space.
As for the executioners, they were undoubtedly the Witch beside him and himself.
Though the former no longer had her Murderous Weapon in hand, her presence and ease made it effortless to sense what it meant to be in command.
As he admired the scene, Fu Qian glanced at the heavy helmet in his hand, stepped forward like an accomplice, and hung it on the hilt.
"Where do you want to go next?"
Having watched his every move, the Witch—the ruler of this world—spoke.
"Anywhere?"
Fu Qian blinked and asked in return. He knew this little exertion couldn't have cost her much.
"To some extent, yes. The mind may be fragile and changeable, but it can also blur boundaries. From here, you can reach anywhere in Lairding without needing a carriage."
As she spoke, the Witch waved a hand.
A strange sound rang out, and the Red Sand beneath their feet began to flow again—not just in one spot.
Fu Qian took a step back and looked at the place where he had been standing: a bulge like a monument emerging after rain.
That was right. The thing was huge, and even familiar. Pushing up through the shifting sand was a stone