Ratslaying contest

You are Seod, the six-eyes woman, recently murdered by the Cult of Harfij. They killed you in order to save the world, but little did they know the Vast Whiteness would bring you back anyway, in any shape you'd desire.
You therefore wish to be born again as a centauress. And to keep your six eyes.
The world is the mighty RUBIKA, an heavenly Rubik's Cube, each of its facets supporting nine square-shaped regions. Every decade, the TURNING happens and the regions are mixed by two successive moves of facet slices, entirely reorganizing the geopolitical situation, interrupting alliances or ending wars, breaking some roads and opening new possibilities.
The light on the Cube is provided by two opposite Rubik's Mirrors, heavenly bodies of the same dimensions than the cube, but with vastly different properties.
The next TURNING is meant to happen in a few months and every nation on Rubika is waiting in fear and hope of the result.
(Why would we need a classical planet? A classical sun? Or stars? Things can be more *interesting* than that!)

Hmm... Let's start with simple and fundamental stuff.
>A sky, horizon, a sun, a moon, stars, a weather system, a sea, a day/night cycle.
How about some more complicated stuff.
>Rat-slaying wildlife, civilization.
(Do these count as alterations or additions or were you looking for something else)
How about...
>Grow a tail.
>You are Rattigan March of course.
>This world is Cal' Endar, a world of limitless possibilities.

(Can we have a superflat world? Like in Minecraft?)

Have a boogie planet. Gotta have a boogie planet.

You are Rattigan March, and you are going to summon your Rattingpiece rifle to show these ratty hooligans what for, wot wot.

You are Seod March, and your 6 eyes are clear now. The sky is reddish above the flat horizon of your world, and you see a cuboid satellite lowering towards the edge.

You feel a weapon forming in your hands. You know how to use it, though you are not sure it is time. You sling the Weapon onto your back, and it bumps against your tail as you adjust the strap.



The rats rush at you, a wall of fur and teeth that bends perception, rising taller than you. You note symptoms of thirst in the black eyes of your onrushing foes, and you suddenly realize that 10 of the rats have died in the press.

THE SECOND WORLD