>>97360392As more time goes on the more he falls into the pit that every large vtuber gets into. They get too big, get too lazy, and then eventually they get up from their bed and realize their empire has fallen. His glazers will realize his incompetencey, His clippers, circling above like vultures in the past, will now have finished feasting on his carrion and moved on to their next target. His whales beached, His friends drifted apart, Vedal's carrer will end not with a bang, but with a fizzle. When the king assembles his broken court, the rain pouring through a hole in the chapel cieling, he will set his jesters to entertain him, like they always do. But he never realized; The court exists for the king, not for the balatro. He sells his crown, his court, and his staff, and lives as a rich man in a nearby hamlet. Nobody knows his name his past, or his status, but he watches from the observatory of his estate, as the final tower in his old kingdom crumbles to the ground. And from his watch, he shed a single tear. After years and years of drinking himself to death, every walk outside reminding him of his past, still living in arrogence, thinking it wasn't his fault, he revisits his past, walking amongst the rubble. He shuffles about in his downtrodden old body, to find his two jesters still dancing, their reflections visible in the shattered stained glass, in front of an empty audience. They still look the same, after all this time. The king lowered the curtain, giving them an unceremonious and unseen final act. His weak legs carried him up the spiral staircase to his once regal bedroom, and as he looked out through his shattered window, images of his gilded city flashing through his mind, he silently screamed to himself as he lept from the opening: "Why...! Why was I such a lazy nigger!"
