Finn blinked.
"The what now…?" he muttered, like it had just insulted his GPA.
Majestria raised a brow. "What did it say?"
Finn stood there like a medieval loading screen, gears turning slowly, brain buffering.
'The Rearranger…?' he thought. Sounds cool. Kinda mysterious. Rearranger of what, though? Molecules? History? Boobs?
Then, the voice spoke again.
[The Rearranger: User is able to move furniture with their mind. Limit capacity: Can only move a few objects before brain becomes too exhausted to function.]
Finn's soul deflated.
His eye twitched. Veins pulsed in his temple. Somewhere in the cosmos, a violin string snapped out of sheer disappointment.
"What the HELL am I supposed to do with that?!"
'Rearrange the furniture'? What am I—an Ikeaers Ghostbuster?! He grit his teeth. "Oh no, there's a demon lord in the castle, better scoot his ottoman slightly to the left!"
But then…
"…Wait."
His anger paused.
A thought.
A beautifully evil thought.
