On the seventh day, the sky decided to interrupt our very hard, very noble lives of farming and not dying.
It didn't whisper. It didn't politely notify.
It announced.
[HUNDRED-FLOOR TOWER IS NOW OPEN. PROCEED TO FIRST FLOOR. THERE ARE SAFE ZONES AVAILABLE IN EVERY FLOOR. BEST OF LUCK.]
The words burned across the sky itself, impossible to ignore, like the universe really wanted to make sure no one could pretend they "missed the memo."
I looked up, squinting, one hand still gripping a bunch of weeds I'd just ripped out of the ground.
"…Best of luck?" I muttered. "That's it? That's the reassuring part?"
Kael, a few steps away, didn't even bother looking up for long. "At least they didn't say 'try not to die.' That would've been worse."
Zeref glanced at the sky for exactly two seconds before returning to fixing the fence. "Same meaning. Better wording."
I snorted.
We stared at it a little longer.
Then...
I went back to pulling weeds.
Because apparently, that's who I am now.
