Everything comes to an end.
Matches of high power die after the hand is swung up in victory. Friendships are brought to crushing ends. Organizations fall, and it all comes crashing down. When it comes down to the brass tacks, there’s only one real thing that everyone faces.
Extinction.
When the total end of everything comes for you, it can seem overwhelming. One can build themselves up with the strength of a bear, the speed of a falcon, or the cunning of a shark and try to adapt. But it’s not the titans of the ecosystem that survive these events. It’s not the ones on the top of the world lording over the land when times were plentiful.
It’s the ones that are adaptable, that survive against the odds because of how resourceful they are. They remain when the beasts of old crumble into dust.
You’ve built yourself up with the ACA as a dominating force. Born from the same mask, you chose a different path, to become specialized in killing and cleaning up the world by your own way. You made yourself to be faster than the falcon, bigger than the bear and sharper than the shark to bring your vision of the world here.
In a sense, your obsession with the Kingdom has spelt your downfall. When actual certified criminals run rampant tearing Arcadia apart and people plan to bring the end of Arcadia are dominating, you have been consistent with your deranged obsession with the Kingdom.
You’ve become specialized. Stuck in what you can and can’t handle.
And that will spell your downfall.
For every trick you pulled, every death on your hands, I’ve had to become something more. Adapt to situations that I found myself in despite not being to. Change to threats of all sizes great and small, from the top of the rope to the newest on the field.
I am evolution incarnate, a serpent that can take on all threats and come out on the other side.
I’ve watched you take everything from me Kleen. Seen you kidnap those that I called brothers and break them in front of me. Take them from the world in a vain attempt to break me down. But deep down, we both know the truth. That this isn’t to clean up Arcadia, but to push that little voice away.
That you weren’t able to adapt to the mantle of the Python, you weren’t worthy to hold it.
Everything that you’ve done won’t be enough to save you from extinction.
Always at the end it’s those that can change with the world around them. You remain haunted by those that have left, that the path and tools you were given became squandered. And now here, at the end, it’s all for naught.
The ones that can adapt, flow and change with the world are the ones that survive.
And you are but an echo of the past, fit only for a museum hall to be gawked at.
Just a dead fossil walking.