Exactly four and a half minutes, two potential solutions, and countless grumbles and complaints—from both Reapers and merpeople—later, everyone has finally dispersed, leaving the previously active scene desolate. Aside from the sound of ocean waves and rippling water, it’s completely silent—a stark contrast from the tense atmosphere just moments ago.
At least it was worth it.
In spite of all the chaos and unrest, the merpeople had agreed to my suggestion; the clans who are more adaptable to life on land migrate toward coastal Asia and try to blend in as much as possible for as long as they can.
Those who aren’t able to easily assimilate into the human lifestyle are to wait another twenty-four hours for my back-up plan: being phased over to an off-the-grid, underground isle in Monterubianesi, Italy—a safe zone I procured on Earth almost five centuries ago.
It’s large and resourceful enough to accommodate up to seven hundred thousand or so average-sized individuals, and best of all, it’s surrounded by an abundance of salt water: a perfect haven for a merperson.