Music, ah… la música is a powerful thing, no?

A single song can move a man to tears, can stir memories buried deep in his corazón, can make the strongest warrior fall to his knees. I know this. I have lived many decades, hermano, and I have heard songs of victory, songs of love, songs of heartbreak. Each one has its place. Each one has its power.

But you, El Mariachi Muerte… you are not a song of joy. You are not a canción de triunfo, a melody that uplifts the soul. No, no. You are a sad song.

You strum your guitar, and at first, the people listen. They are curious, drawn in by the notes, by the rhythm. But as the words spill out, as the sound lingers in the air, they realize—it is not joy you give them, but sorrow. It is not life you sing of, but death. Your song is one of deceit, betrayal, of promises broken.

Look at what you have done, hermano. You played your sad song for Gemini, made her believe in love, only to betray her with the strings of your guitar. You played it for La Vida, whispered your melody into her ear, only to turn your back when it mattered most. You hide behind the music, behind the mask of melody, while your true self—el mentiroso, el traidor—stays hidden in the shadows.

But here is the truth: una canción triste cannot last forever.

The notes fade. The chords die. The silence returns. And what is left when the song ends?

Nothing.

And that, Mariachi, is what you are destined to be after Ring King. Nothing.

You see, I am not a sad song. I am not fleeting, I am not weak, I am not forgotten when the last note fades. Yo soy El Dragón Caído. I am legend. I am myth. I am the roar that shakes the heavens, the fire that scorches the earth. My story is not sung, it is etched into the stone of Arcadia itself.

At Ring King, your guitar will not save you. Your music will not protect you. Because when the dragon roars, it drowns out every sound. When the dragon’s wings beat, it silences every note. And when the dragon’s fire falls, even the saddest of songs turns to ash.

I do not come for music, hermano. I do not come to listen to your serenade. I come for truth. I come for honor. I come for the Double Feature Championship, and I will take it from your hands the same way I have taken everything from those who stand before me.

Because a sad song may move the heart… but it cannot defeat the dragon.

So play your tune, Mariachi. Sing your last canción. Strum the strings, let the people hear their sorrow. But know this—when the final note fades, when the silence falls, when your guitar lies broken in the dust…

The only sound left in that ring will be the roar of El Dragón Caído.

And hermano, that roar will be the last thing you hear before I end your song forever.