Although they had known each other for many years, Geralt was still the same as ever. His past use of various potions seemed to have damaged his ability to express emotions. Like Batwoman, he was serious and rarely smiled.
Especially around men. As Su Ming remembered, only after he had saved the man a few times had Geralt shown those embarrassed, grateful smiles.
Still, Su Ming liked coming to see him. Whenever he saw the Witcher he had known so well in his previous life carrying a Dragon Lance and an Insect Glaive instead of a steel sword and a Silver Sword, he felt a particular sense of accomplishment.
In a sense, he had not changed Geralt's destiny. By the time he arrived in The Witcher world, the story known to everyone had already ended, and Geralt and Ciri had continued on the path of Witchers.
Deathstroke had merely given them more choices, more paths. As for Geralt later going to Monster Hunter World and then Final Fantasy World, those were paths he had walked on his own.
Humanity was like that. As long as there was a path ahead, it could stretch on endlessly. Especially for a traveler who could keep visiting different worlds, destiny was largely in one's own hands rather than heaven's.
"You know her situation too. So-called coordinates simply don't exist." Geralt answered quietly, his gaze returning to the float drifting on the sea. The fishing line tugged, making the little red-and-white ball bob.
The sea was exceptionally calm today. Even the clamor from the distant city could be heard here. Sunlight fell over him, and he felt very relaxed.
At least he did not have to worry about a group of Drowners leaping out of the water, or a Chimera swooping down from the sky.