Author's note: This is my last MAR fanfic. It's short, but to the point about a member of the Chess.
Bitter Sequoia
Maybe I've seen too much of this world.
We stand here today at the conclusion of the Second War Games. Team MAR has gotten this far. Countless youths have been beaten at their hands, but for what?
The world is a husk, a shadow of what it could be, and that is because it has been tainted so greatly.
I see a fellow greybeard: that old Cross Guard, Gaira. Why does he stay so steadfast to protect this pathetic world? Doesn't he see the truth?
Those Cross Guards... I never truly despised them. They are brave and fight with truth and passion, but they waste their energies on something unworthy of their efforts.
Phantom, Peta, they too watch Team MAR earn victory after victory, and I think they agree with me when I lament that such great power is used to protect something so despicable.
And here I am, with my staff, ready for my own fight... That boy, his shovel looks so familiar. Ah, perhaps fate destined for us to fight. He's fought well, this boy, but today he will die. He never realized the truth, and wasted his life to protect this husk of a world, and for that he'll have to pay the price.
So show me what you can do, defender of a wretched world, and I will show you the truth.
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If you are wondering about Generations of Conflict, let me tell you this: don't. Had I completed it, the ending would have been crappy. Why? Because I've lost interest in that fic completely, and I'd be unable to provide it with the quality it rightfully deserves. I created a beast, and, thus, I had to execute it.
I shall take my leave of the MAR fandom. There were good and bad times, but in the end I guess I was rewarded by a fine critic. Many thanks to you, Vivid4.