Raphael's eyebrow went up.
If this was still an illusion, it was the most elaborate one he'd ever been inside, more immersive than anything a three-dimensional screen could approximate, the kind of presence that registered in the body rather than just the eyes.
Then one of the figures moved toward him directly, and the question of whether it was real became considerably less theoretical.
A dog-kin warrior, broad across the chest, advancing to the center of the field without hesitation. His eyes found Raphael and locked on.
"...A human. Why are you here?" He didn't wait for an answer.
"Doesn't matter. I don't know how you got in ahead of us, but you're not one of the baron's servants. So you're with us. Fight."
He clapped Raphael on the shoulder with a hand that had real weight to it.
"...What."
Raphael stood there with the specific feeling of a situation that has become absurd faster than he can track it.
