The peaceful routine lasted longer than I expected.
Not because the Tower had suddenly become safer.
Not because the Oracle of Death had disappeared.
But because everyone had adapted.
Floor after floor, SafeZones continued growing. Workshops expanded. Trade routes formed. Production classes became more efficient.
Earthlings and Zetharians who had once viewed each other with suspicion were now sharing resources, equipment, and information simply because survival demanded it.
Life moved forward.
And somehow, that made the silence from the Oracle feel even more unsettling.
I stood on a balcony overlooking Floor 50's central district, my eyes fixed on the glowing map floating before me.
The red markers hadn't moved.
Not one.
Floor 100.
Every single one.
Thousands of floors existed between us and the top.
Yet every Oracle member I could detect through the Apostle locator was gathered there.
Waiting.
The sight bothered me more than constant attacks ever had.
