Reality warping is a dangerous tool.
It’s a facet of magic that should not be carefully tampered with. Basic enchantment and transmutation magic is already a grouping that’s heavily regulated and watched for with its temporary effects. Add in the possibility of permanent results and it elevates the need for a watchful regulation. Comparing reality warping and those kinds of transformative magic is already a disservice to what the former is. It’s the same as complaining why you can’t use nuclear bombs when you can already use fireworks for a new years party. That’s why one must always be careful in using such abilities and handle it with care.
“I think I screwed up.”
“Yup. You did.”
Kirke, the Witch of Midnight, crossed her arms and hummed.
Beside and below her is her niece and apprentice, Aizawa, looking a bit sheepish.
Typically it would be a noticeable pair. One was a pink-haired tall woman with a more striking attire. If her fishnets didn’t catch your eye her more risque bra-like tube top would get your attention. The benefits of a really nice and attractive figure that she was proud to show off clearly. At a glance she didn’t befit the title of a witch, wearing more modern attires such as high heel boots, an incredibly contemporary skirt, and even a cap turned backwards. You might associate her more with a DJ of some sort.
Meanwhile her younger assistant on hand wore a more casual shorts and T-shirt with a jacket that would’ve allowed her to blend in anonymity. That’s if you disregard her bright blue hair. Her lithe figure would trick you into assuming she’s a youngster but she’s sadly just on the shorter end of the receiving end of the height giving totem pole. She waved around a small phone forward, treating it akin to a wand but pushing it forward. One can imagine someone trying to find a better signal but rather than reaching for a higher elevation they traded the vertical lane for the horizontal one. In fact she almost struck someone’s face doing so.
Yet no one gave them a single glance. Passerbys would just move on, almost bumping into thema at times and prompting them to sidestep. The trick was very simple for a common witch, much less someone powerful like Kirke. A glamour spell was a basic tool to keep the sanctity of their spellcasting nature. A much needed respite for those who hunt witches or for simply shielding their identities from annoying stalkers and so on. So you might as well treat it as them being alone on their lonesome in this small magical lesson.
“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Kirke asked, with a surprisingly soft and patient tone. Her attitude and appearance further accentuating the disparity between her appearance, title, and personality.
“Ugh,” Aiz shook her head before staring at where her phone pointed. In an almost annoyed childish tone that only aided the misunderstandings that could be caused by assuming her height and age’s correlation. “I’m pointing this at that fountain over there. I casted a spell there, and that’s it. Nothing wrong!”
It really was a harmless little thing.
Just a water fountain with already some coins here and there. The statue that was in the center spilled water from a jar they held. Their marble form was sculpted beautifully at the hands of a masterful artisan. No doubt that’s why so many people are taking selfies or photos beside it. Some were pointing out the wonderful weave of the dress, mesmerized by the effort it took. Others pointed to the incredibly attractive form of the marble woman. Perhaps a few had taken creative liberties in shaping their bosom into such a striking eye catching lure…
“Hm… Are you sure?”
“I don’t know,” Aiz answered, half-sheepish, half annoyed. Her teacher wasn’t being very helpful at all., “I don’t think I did anything wrong with it? It’s just a water fountain.”
“In the middle of a road?”
The honking of cars at the tourists was increasing by the volume of the fountain’s captive audience, earring an annoyed look from the bluette. There was something that put her off about the situation. But it wasn’t that bad to have a water fountain there. It was probably like something in the UK or France except botched badly. Taking a closer eye showed that the beautiful renaissance-like statue had a more contemporary outfit. Its clothing was really similar to a simple cardigan and some denim pants. Even the jewelry they were, beautifully sculpted again, and the phone they held was very much very modern. It really was a bit odd for a sculpture like that but people can be creative. It might just be on purpose. So really, it’s nothing out of the ordinary.
“Someone had shitty engineering plans,” Aiz answered with a huff. “It can’t be the fountain right?”
“You definitely turned someone into that. Look at who’s beside the fountain.”
Aiz frowned but peered a bit closer. There were two children looking confused and scared. They held each other’s hands in some sort of daze. Unlike the other fountain fans they were standing on the water, and also clinging onto the hands of the fountain. Hm. If you looked closely it almost looked like the statue was crying thanks to the water. They were softly uttering “mommy” as if unsure why they even said such a word. They didn’t look like they had any mother figure nearby. Whoever their parents were, they shouldn’t let them play on some fountain. Some nearby bystanders are already ushering them away to allow for a better photo. Something about it felt wrong to her… But that was just normal wasn’t it?
“Have you noticed the kids yet?” Kirke asked, prodding for a response.
“I think I noticed what I did wrong,” Aiz said with a bit more confidence now. But seeing Kirke nod was guidance that she might be heading in the right direction.
“Yeeeees, and~?”
“I got it, I got it… I’ll fix it,”
Aiz sighed as she began tapping on her phone. It was a necessity for witches to adapt to the newer environment in order to keep up with many things. So with a small input she raised the device towards the two and clicked. Being fluent with ancient languages is necessary in order to weave the spells that can alter forms. Whether it’s speaking them out loud or wagging fingers and forming magic circles. Combining them altogether can allow for a more seamless resolution which is why coding was such a nifty tool for modern magus.
FLASH!
There was a blast of light.
For a brief moment her glamour almost failed, with some folks glancing around at the sudden revelation of the light. But any interest died down very quickly as they either carried on with their life or simply stood by where they were as soon as the light subsided. The monotony of one’s daily life would continue as usual despite the shenanigans witches are up to.
“There! Fixed!” Aiz nodded as she looked forward to what she was sure she changed. An eager glance at Kirke corrected the assumption that she did it right.
“... Mmm,” Kirke looked more nervous and annoyed rather than being the proud teacher she was expecting. “I’ll have to fix that later,”
“What’s wrong with it this time!?”
Aiz was exasperated. She did the spell properly after all. No mistakes, namely spelling or format wise, and it was chanted fast enough too. No one else was bothered or confused at her spellcasting target too. The fountain was still there too and the mother statue was now accompanied by two cherub-like figures. Two children that drifted towards her in a confused yet relieved expression. Although their attire might not be quite as modern as the woman that was between them. The mother statue was also happy. Wait, wasn’t she always? At least it didn’t look like she was crying anymore after her changes. She reverted that fountain into its original form didn’t she?
“Sigh, Aiz… When you use such spells you have to be watchful about the effects of reality warping,”
“But I don’t notice anything,” Aiz countered, then pointed at everyone else in the vicinity. “No one else noticed anything either. I think I did fine?”
“Do you even remember what spell you casted?”
“It’s a spell to uhh….”
“Exactly. If you don’t know what spell you just used, you wouldn’t even know how to fix it,” Kirke wagged a finger, prompting an eye roll for her apprentice. “But since we already altered their form twice, we’ll have to hold back from changing them. Using consecutive spells on them can be dangerous. So make a note on where that fountain is and write <Inanimate TF: Fountain>”
The lazy apprentice sighed but begrudgingly followed.
Spell training wouldn’t be over so quickly either. A class is a class and it’s only been a few minutes. Kirke often extended their lessons if she didn’t give satisfactory results either. But a proper casting of a spell distended such lengths. So she had to find an opportunity in order to finish up the lesson. The blare of a horn proved to be just what was needed as Aiz’s head snapped towards the street.
“WATCH OUT!”
A large truck was heading straight for an old man holding a cane. The passenger and driver’s expression showed one of absolute shock and dread at the inevitability of an accident. There would be no time to push him out before was hit by such a vehicle. Knowing magic lore, he was guaranteed to die and had a high possibility of being sent into another world entirely. Or in her more online forums, ‘get isekaied’. Anyway, Aiz took action. With a fast flurry of buttons, she tapped and blasted. Hitting the old man and the truck just as they were within a meter of each other.
It almost felt like it was too late.
<<<
Transformative magic can be instantaneous or slow. Some scholars exclaim that a gradual set of changes can ensure arcane stability and would allow a safer state. Others argue for a more practical and efficient warping. Magic shouldn’t have to be so slow and wasteful despite the risk it may bring about. Kirke had always been an advocate for a medium side where the caution of the former and efficiency of the latter mixed together.
Aiz would rather be done with it.
So in the span of milliseconds, the old man seemed to regress decades. His baggy and worn out clothing warped and shifted, scattering and reforming repeatedly. By the time he was done, there was a young lad over there holding not a cane but rather a stick. Almost like a tree branch that had just been detached from a tree. The vintage clothing he now wore looked more like a brand new outfit for a 10 year old.
On the other hand the truck had frozen in midair as it shrunk and shrunk and shrunk. Its simple color became more and more vibrant, becoming more eye catching too. Perhaps in a sense, that would lessen the likelihood of it being non-visible to people. The people inside did not change in shape, and were caught in the blast. Their bodies pushing against the glass as they banged and let out muffled cries. The old man might not have had any reaction to such a scene, but the duo were stunned and confused at their sudden fate.
“!? Lyra!? Lyr--mppph!”
“Manny-Mmpph--heepp?!”
Even so they too received changes as they began to thankfully shrink, but perhaps not in a manner that they desired. While the truck compressing to a smaller size had a loud audible creak of metal snapping into two, their body had a softer sound. Their bodies became more humanoid once more at the loss of size. But to an observant eye they’d also notice the shinier gleam as a noticeable sheen encased them. Their shocked and dreadful expression persisted as their body became more and more plastic, just as the vehicle they rode on too became one. Initial grasps as their own form after the bout of confusion became rigid as their figures became frozen.Their bodies too began to push forward as they now remain seated as the truck finally went from a behemoth’s size and into something a child can pick up.
“What the hell is happening?! Lyra stay with me!”
“Manny!! Manny I can’t move!! Wha-”
To them the transformation might’ve felt long, uncomfortable, and possibly even painful. But to anyone else outside, and without an arcane understanding nor be the caster for it, it would’ve been instantaneous. So for all of Aiz’s doubts about not making it in time can be put to rest as…
>>>
A small toy truck hit the kid on the street by the chest before landing harmlessly on the ground.
“Ow.”
The kid looked perplexed, sweating and still reeling as if he was almost in a dangerous situation. His voice was soft and slow, almost as if not used to its current state, when he uttered an “ah” before glancing around. Like slotting in a new hard drive to a computer, it took him moments to readjust and gain his bearings. The now younger lad blinked a couple of times before yelping at the honk of a car.
“Get out of the road kid!”
“Sorry!”
He scampered on his tiny boots and got back to the curb as the disrupted traffic began to amend itself. Tightly he clung to his toy truck, peering at it as if to check its contents. It’s a normal thing to do for a child to observe their belongings. But he was very fixated on the simplicity of the scared action figures inside the truck. Even as they bounced and smacked against the interiors of the truck nothing else happened. The kid almost thought he should’ve heard something when doing so. But he was alright.
Aiz stared a bit at it longer with a proud smile.
Then scratched her head.
She had definitely just casted a spell but in her haste she might’ve been too trigger happy and not tracked its record. Staring at where its destination was revealed nothing yet either. Yet something about that kid inspired a feeling of satisfaction within her.
“You casted another spell, didn't you?” Kirke’s gaze was boring to her.
“To save a life!” Aiz retorted, though faltered at a now sterner look. “I think.”
“Uh huh… I mean if you did I wouldn't see anyone dead…”
“So that means it worked! Probably!”
“Keeping records isn’t so difficult Aiz.”
“Ugh.”
“Now can we get back to the lesson instead of trying to stall?”
At least it looks like Kirke wasn’t going to give her a hard time for that one.
What followed up was more hex practices. Whether it was altering the color of someone’s hair without anyone noticing, including themselves, or changing smaller features of an inanimate object and making sure to keep track of it. It wasn’t as drastic as the previous two spells and a low profile was pretty much assured.
Naturally they still had to actually practice reality warping spells. But it really wasn’t Aiz’s favorite branch of magic. It was both amazing and annoying that her teacher can pick apart what she casted too. On one hand that showed how great her auntie was. On the other hand, that meant she had to deal with the more prodigious witch’s expectations. It’s not good to be criticized by someone who was way better than her!
How was she supposed to know that a cow in the middle of a street performance was out of the ordinary? Bands do crazy stuff like that all the time so why wouldn’t they? Not to mention everyone tossed coins at it and the cow was completely fine with everything. There wasn’t any need to apologize…
Or what about how a pool toy store shouldn’t be in the middle of a park? Sure there’s no beach nearby but there’s a river. That must be enough for some people to buy such toys and have fun there! How was she supposed to figure out that ‘people who have hot dogs should be able to get hot dogs’ in the park. Was Kirke seriously implying a hotdog shop was more likely to exist there than a pool toy store? It was complex…
But those were few and few in between. When they went back to the other facets of magic, it was at least fun enough. It was just a typical magical class and she didn’t mind it one bit.
“Stop right there witches!”
Until a gun was pointed at the two of them.
Aiz and Kirke froze.
The instigator was nervous but kept her aim at Kirke, more confident that she could hit the adult of the duo. A police woman clearly from her attire alone if the gun and handcuffs aren’t evident enough. Though she didn’t possess the natural confidence of one. Sensibly this is due to her witnessing what the two have been up to and nothing in her life had prepared her for such a situation. Witches kept their tricks a secret from all prying eyes after all. To her these two are monsters who had casually transfigured people into pots and pigs.
“You two can’t hurt anyone else anymore!” Shakily but with conviction she never lowered her weapon.
“Ah. A realist?”
A terminology like that was reserved for those who can see through the glamour of most mages. Judging from the near frantic look of the cop, Kirke was assured no amount of magical hypnosis or mental tampering would erase what she saw. That was a bit annoying. But this was also the perfect time to teach a lesson seeing as Aiz looked confused. No doubt she’s been slacking off on her lessons.
“Realist? What’s that?”
“Realists are people who have a natural resistance to mental tampering and reality warping. Because of that they usually don’t have a lot of magical affinity,”
“Hey! Stop talking like I’m not here and drop those wands!”
“Aiz, do as she says.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Trust me.”
“Sigh. Fine.”
And so the two discarded their wands. The stick on Kirke’s hands and the signature phone were tossed aside haphazardly, granting some sort of relief to the cop. After all this was a sign that the two were threatened and can be harmed. No doubt about it. A stick can only do so much against a gun that can fire a bullet faster than sound could be heard. Assuring herself that this would go well she grabbed at her radio and tried to call in her targets.
“This is Officer Velasquez. I have a--- what the?”
It’s a bit difficult to do that when the tool of communication has instead turned into a delicious confection. A sprinkled strawberry donut that looked so freshly baked yet somewhat in the shape of a radio. Velasquez’s startled and confused face locked onto Aiz as she heard her giggling like the mischievous gremlin that she is. Outrage and alarm took over as she took aim at Aiz and fired. Her marksmanship was not to be underestimated as her shot rang true and clear.
The glass mirror that reflected the two shattered into pieces.
“What?!”
It was silly to assume that a witch couldn’t cast spells with other methods. Whether with gestures or silently.
“Poke.”
With that touch alone, Officer Velasquez couldn’t do so much but move a muscle. Not a single strand of hair shifted as if she was frozen like a statue. But she was not. Her eyes showed the now clear panic and fear on her face as the pink witched behind her hummed a tune. If she were to so much topple then there would be nothing she can do but simply let gravity take over. Something made evident to her as Kirke pushed her down with a finger, and so she fell down into the ground. Yet her pose didn’t even change, almost as if she had turned into a mannequin. Though she was still human, it would make more sense to say that her time has stopped.
“Oh! Realists aren’t immune to all magical effects?”
“Yup! A simple stun effect would do. But you should be careful when they’re armed.”
“Can’t wards handle that?”
“True but we must always be cautious and not always be reliant on such things.”
‘I have to call for backup… someone has to have heard my gun firing!’
It was an awful period of waiting as the blue one nudged her and rolled her on the dirty ground. Some specks of dust and trash got on her but she didn’t even feel them. From her peripheral she can see that the grime and some pieces of paper got on her but the sensation was non-existent. This trick of theirs was just a nasty thing to affect her. Still time seemed to pass on as the pink one got into a spiel about caution and firearms, referring to how harmless they are in truth. Only when the minutes long discussion finished was she finally stood up from the ground and nothing else happened. In fact the new angle they set her on allowed her to see the edge of the alleyway that gave way to a street. People just carried on with no interest towards her location. The idea that her firing a shot might’ve helped waned more and more by the second. An explanation was unnecessary as Officer Velasquez recalled that ‘only exceptions could sense what’s wrong’ and that they must’ve used a trick.
“Since they’re immune to reality warping’s mental effects, we can make use of them~!”
“Oh! So can we get her to tell us everything that I messed u- I mean all the spells I casted?”
“Usually. But she’s immune to hypnosis. So what we’re going to do is be creative by doing this-”
RIP
Something was wrong.
Something felt very wrong. They were doing something different and she can somewhat move now. Barely mind you. But she can at least shift her eyes and let out little garbled cries. A gasp of confusion escaped her as she tried to turn to what just happened. The pink witch was holding a page. A simple white page that looked so meaningless. Yet at the same time something about it looked so familiar and worrying. It was as if she needed that beside her and to not leave her-
RIP
This time it was the bluette that held a new torn page. Her eyes seemed to show wonder at holding it. Just as before the dread that was steadily building up was increasing. There was a faint buzz throughout her mind as she tried to process the strange absence that she was feeling. Her gaze still locked onto the two pages that they held.
“Saw me turn an old man into a child. A truck into a toy… I did that?”
“Aiz! Why would you do that?!”
“She said she saw the old man was going to get hit by a truck!”
“I mean I read that part but why a toy and a kid?”
“I don’t know!”
What they spoke was abnormal. Strange. But it wasn’t out of the expectation one could have against these horrifying witches. Velasquez can still recall what she saw at the statue and at the animatronic. Seeing those thugs be turned into a band of animals playing for the audience. Or how a thief was turned into a new purse for an old lady. She can never forget how easily they took care of-
RIP
“Ah. I knew the animatronics bothered me.”
“Hmm… seems like vandals so maybe it’s fine to leave em.”
“Really?”
“Nah!”
-There it is again! Velasquez bit her lip as she felt something really really wrong go. Each time they manifested a new paper something felt different. An increasing sort of emptiness. Was there such a comparable sensation? Maybe when one emptied their stomach after vomiting but the disgusting sensation wasn’t there. She can regain some sort of sentience at each time they did this but there was something very off about her. A strong sense of lethargy was covering her.
“Can’t we do this faster?”
“Well usually this is a delicate process.”
“What are you… two doing?”
“Woah! She can talk now!”
“Don’t worry she’s not going to be able to do anything. Usually they don’t even notice as we do this.”
“Stop that…”
“Anyway, fine. Let’s pick up the pace. It’ll be fine.”
RIP RIP RIP
More papers. Did she black out? Officer Velasquez struggled to stay conscious but she willed herself to. Even as her eyes closed for a moment or so. Each time she did she would see that the pages they had increased. In fact they were now holding a small blue book that seemed to grow every time she blinked.
“-I turned someone into a purse…”
“It’s a thief so it’s fine.”
RIP RIP RIP
“The fountain was originally a mom and two kids!?”
“Yeah.. you kinda suck.”
RIP RIP RIP
“SHE THINKS I’M A CHILD!?”
“Told you to stop staying up and playing video games.”
RIP RIP RIP
“Oh we’re getting historical now.”
“Hmm… Keep going just in case.”
“You sure? Isn’t this private information?”
“Eh we need to take care of her now anyway. Even if it means erasing her identity.”
Velasquez snapped awake.
The slumber that beckoned to her tried to claim her once more but she roused herself with determination alone. The awareness that her own end was inevitable if she were to be passive was a great driving force. A warbled voice managed to get the two's attention as she reached out. The culmination of her resistance trying to claw its way out of the impending fate. As she began to feel her body become more sluggish and hollow. Yet she still tried to reach one more time for her gun. This was her only chance. The two mages didn’t even give her a glance and were now distracted with the book they formed, reading through it.
“Woah… Are they usually like that auntie?”
“Mmm… Realists are very defiant.”
“Oh apparently she has a grandma that had the same issue.”
“Hm. Might be a bloodline thing. Keep checking.”
For a moment she was confused at their wording. The idea of what a grandma is slipped her mind a bit before she managed to piece it from her increasingly limited understanding. Each time she felt this strange absence the two would discuss a new finding that felt familiar yet alien. When she tried to recall why she was here, the dots began to connect. Each bit of memory she ever had was being dragged straight into that book of theirs. She could no longer remember her acquaintances or even some of her friends on the police force. Not even her distant family that got her into this job in the first place.
“Yeah I’ll send the information to a friend. They’ve had troubles with Witch Hunters there.”
“So realists work with witch hunters?”
“Good ones do. Keep checking for more.”
“Oh she has a PS5… can I get it?”
“No.”
But with them being unaware this was the perfect time. Her radio that was used to contact her best friend--- whose name she could not recall, had been turned into a do… a d…. A snack that she could not identify. Her gun rang once earlier but failed to hit them because they were ready. That was the only choice she could make. Their distraction alone could at least weaken one of them and allow her to escape her current state. She was pinning all of this onto that hope as her fingers finally reached her gun. She didn’t even know what type of gun it was. She just knew how to fire. Even if memories were to slip by her instincts certainly would. Even as she was beginning to forget the faces of her mom and dad, she managed to lift the pistol and finally fire straight at their head!
…
Ah.
Right.
How do you fire a gun again?
Velasquez tilted the g… the thing. What is he holding? She was gripping it so tightly and she knew it was the key to her survival. But how exactly does she use it? What was it supposed to do? Ah. The officer’s grip on it loosened as it was pried off her hands. The pink haired woman in front of her now lifted it up, shaking it. There was a blue haired girl behind her too… Who were they? Why were they pointing that stick at her?
“Auntie that was close! She could’ve shot us!”
“Nah. Even if she did, I turned this into a water gun earlier.”
A splash of.. Something… What is this thing on her face? Vel---as-- struggled to understand what was on her--everything was becoming so confusing and odd. She couldn’t even describe what she was looking at feeling. No longer able to recall terminologies such as color and shapes. In fact she can no longer process that the two strangers in front of her were talking to her. It was simply as if they were speaking another language. There was a strange funny sound each time they did something.
“What. Are? You?... Do?”
“Almost done!”
“There we go! Make sure to take care of that.”
“Ah…. You… Do…. W?....A?”
Vocabulary is one of the last bits waning fast. Every talent or skill or knowledge has been emptied out of Velasquez much like a water pitcher spilling its contents. Her eyes showed recognition that the book was hers. It was something that belonged to her. But she wouldn’t be able to process that statement either. Her eyes begin to show a hollow blankness.
“A… o… y…”
It wasn’t just words that failed her. Letters too. They have taken everything that ever was and turned it into nothing more than a book for them to read. An individual person’s entire history is converted into nothing more than ink on paper. Yet Velasquez had hope. At the very least, deep down in her near non-existent mind, she knew who she was. She was-
“Officer Velasquez!”
….. Ah…
“Why are you so excited?” Kirke asked, letting a mage hand carry the book.
“I was really bothered by how the book didn’t have any title at all,” Aiz pointed out, tapping at the front of the book. There, in a font that wouldn’t go wrong on a police uniform, was “Autobiography of Officer Miranda Velasquez.”
“Eh fair enough. But yeah we got what we needed then,” And so Kirke closed the book.
“But what do we do about her?”
Aiz pointed at the non-responsive police officer that stood there absent-mindedly. A blank look on her face, almost drooling at the two. It wasn’t directed at them. Without a shadow of doubt this ‘realist’ was now an empty-headed harmless threat.
“Hmm… I’d feel bad leaving here here. Some vandals might do something with her.”
“So do we turn her back to normal?”
“Er, we have all her memories in this book. We’ll just substitute something else,”
With a casual wag of her finger the cop began to float up. Another wag, and she slammed into the wall. But there was no injury or damage to both the body or the wall. There was merely a splash-like sound as if something just burst into liquid. It wasn’t inaccurate to what truly happened as there was now a new batch of paint decorating the wall. IIt was an image of Velasquez, looking blankly forward stunned. It was plain and simple for something so realistic in terms of art.
“Perfect~! Now she can’t snitch on us.”
“Err… Teach. Won’t people recognize her?”
“I mean not with reality warping usually but hm… You have a point. 5 stars.”
“Yay~”
This time Kirke held the water gun that was once Velasquez’s property and began to spray the graffiti on the wall. This would be a good method to erase her physical existence, dousing paint with water. But instead the picture began to change form. With each douse of water it was as if her outfit was being cleaned off. The more the image was soaked, the more revealing the outfit became.
Instead of a respectable blank-faced cop, an image of a stripper-like cop began to manifest. Fuller wide hips glistened with the water as the military-like stand turned into more of a sultry hip over hip pose. Her midriff was revealed as her pants turned into short shorts that did little to hide her own ass, which was prominently large even from behind. Her breasts were larger than before, if not bigger than the Witch below her, as the cleavage of the new top exposed all. The blank face still looked empty and vapid, but now her face was decorated with such sultry makeup. It would be more accurate to call the person on the wall a stripper pretending to be a cop rather than an office police officer. Even the artstyle changed, having gone from something more artistic over a simple and realistic design.
The book that Kirke held trembled and shook, as if aware of what just happened to its physical body. But Kirke merely held tighter on it and tossed it into her bag of trinkets.
“And with that, today’s lesson is complete~”
“Sweet. The end kinda got fun. Are we going to do more like this?”
“Oh yeah, for sure.”
So the two stepped away leaving the sexual graffiti behind. Their intention was to fix some of the reality warping they messed around with. But this new decoration was here to stay.