Trafalgar stood in the middle of the mini desert with Maledicta in hand and obsidian armor wrapped close around his body, the black plates drinking in the light until he looked less like a student taking an exam and more like something the dunes themselves should have feared.
Around him, the terrain had already started changing. Low ridges shifted shape with every buried movement, shallow slopes caved inward, and the hard ribs of cracked earth that broke through the surface were swallowed little by little each time the thing below passed near them.
'It is slow when it rises, but large enough to force the whole field to move around it.'
That was the first thing worth remembering.
