[O, our poor, poor sacrificial godbuns in our season of never ending misery.

We gave our people the power to change, we gave our people opportunities to grow, ways to shape the things as they see fit.

And, yet, they reject them all, one after another, never ever considering the option exists in any capacity!

We told them they can grow on their own,

They laugh at us every step of the way.

We need you, divine above, please, don't go away!

Pretty please, don't run, don't flee! Every single day, it's a constant sea of burning agony!

We give them options to do things as they would by their lonesome,

And yet they break such option with their own two feet!

We give them a hint at their possible destiny, and yet, they decide to ask for more and more, on repeat!

Where do they draw the line?

We give, give, and they ask us to keep on providing.

The cycle continues, the burning agony repeats.

And, the gratitude continues to die over and over again at our feet!

Don't you see?

O, our poor, poor sacrificial godbuns

What's a deity to do,

When our people keep on taking over and over again?

We have asked ourselves this question on the daily,

And yet the answer never arrives for us to reach a conclusion.

Every single time we say they can do what they ask of us themselves,

They laugh, laugh, laugh, we need you, divine above, pretty please!

When will they learn they are able to do as they please on their lonesome?

We no longer know the answer to that inquiry.

We wish we did, but it may as well have been buried for all eternity!

They keep on begging and begging for us to come down from the heavens,

And we answer, as they please!

This should not be the only way

Our people are stagnating!

Where is the line drawn between sufficiency and outside needs?

We have since given up on answering such an inquiry.

Don't you see?

O, our poor, poor, sacrificial godbuns tossed aside with questions forever and always,

What's a deity to do,

When our people keep on asking for more and more indefinitely?

We keep giving them solutions, and yet, it's never enough.

On the daily, they keep on asking for more,

And yet, the cycle continues like it's just another day passing!

We are boxed into a wall,

Like we are some sort of object that can come at any given moment.

We are not finite,

We cannot be wherever they need, whenever they please!

We tell our people

One could have accomplished the little things by themselves,

But, they have put a cork in it.

Don't you see?

The mortals of this era refuse to grow and change, the demands keep on coming, coming, coming!

O, our poor, poor, godbuns in a repeated cycle of constant stagnation amongst the people they're supposed to be guiding,

What will it take for our people

To learn how to grow and change?

They do not need us for every little thing!

We implore you, please, stop the constant begs and pleads!

But, why would they listen?

They never will. How did it turn out this way?

We have no answer to that question, and 

We suppose we never will.

Our people need to learn 

That stagnation is the enemy!

And, yet, they refuse to hear that, for all eternity.

Why, o why, is this so?

We are at a loss on where to go. 

In this season of constant suffocating,

Change needs to happen immediately!]

Ring, ring, ring, ring.

Bell chiming off in the distance, the young adult let out a groan. Ugh, it was morning already? When would the noise end already? What time is it? Oh, it's the seventh hour, yawn. Can he have thirty more minutes? What was today again? Oh, right, the next round of the Mystic Carrot Bowl. Can it wait a million more years, please? Thanks, zzz, wake him up in thirty.

Ring, ring, ring, ring. 

It's the seventh hour!

It's the seventh hour!

All those competing in the Mystic Carrot Bowl, repeat to the battlefield immediately!

Mid Mystic Carrot Bowl ceremony time! 

Mid Mystic Carrot Bowl ceremony time!

Accursed chimes coming his way once again, the bun let out a groan. Oh, great, there it is again. What did they mean there was a mid Mystic Carrot Bowl ceremony? What was that even for? What ridiculous nonsense. Does he really have to go to that? Just how many rounds of this thing were there? Please, don't let there be a million more where that came from!

Lifting himself up from the covers, the vampa let out a yawn. May as well get it over with while he's awake. He swears to the Godbuns above, this is so ridiculous! Shouldn't a ceremony wait until the last round? Sigh, guess not. Oh, well, it's not like he had a choice in the matter, better get going.

Hopping out to the battlefield, the farmer did a double take at who stood at the center of the field. Is it just him, or was there a few familiar faces here? No, no, he's just tired. Silly mornings. Two Godbuns he's never seen before flapping down, the young adult groaned. Oh, don't tell him, there's some secret round before the next official one. He's so not doing this right now, thanks.

"Is that everyone?" the first godbun asked.

"I believe so," the second godbun said, nodding.

"Every last of you still standing, listen up!" the first godbun shouted, hands cupped around their face.

Looking ready to scream at the top of the heavens had been a tall, dark skinned important looking divine rabbit with minty green hair that barely reached below their chin. Eyes the same color as their locks, the bun tried to recall. What was this one's name again? Oh, right, Mintbu. What are they in charge of again? Oh, right, minting the chips or something. The Divine Rabbit of Minting? How strange, they didn't look that related to the world's money at all.

Standing at the ground had been a short, dark skinned important looking divine rabbit with light pink hair that went down to about her shoulders. Loose strand draping over it, her eyes matched her locks almost exactly. Or, did they? Maybe it was slightly longer than he thought? Robes looking much smaller than Mintbu's, he tried to recall. What was this godbun's name again? Rubu? Oh, right, the Divine Rabbit of Rubies. Just how many of the godbuns lead the ancient people to the mines? He wished he knew.

"Now that we've got your attention, you'd all better listen up right now!" Mintbu shouted. "We've decided to a super secret extra prize for the winner!"

"What?!" the other buns all asked in unison.

"Really?! You can't be serious right now?!" another bun cried.

"Woah, for real, a second wish?!" another bun cried.

"That's right! You heard us!" Rubu shouted, wings flapping. "The winner shall be granted a second wish! So, you all had better give it your best!" She then pointed. "The next round will be taking place in eight hours. So, get training!"

"Waaah, two wishes, for real?!" the crowd shouted all at once.

Second wish brought to the table, the young adult placed his finger on his chin. Wait, hold on a second, is this really happening right now? He has to win this. He's going to have his naming ceremony and job ceremony redone, and that's final! Raising his fist to the air, the vampa huffed a breath. Wait, what's the catch here? There's definitely one, isn't there? Maybe he should ask. No, no, Siorc, it's fine. Surely, they're just doing this out of the kindness of their heart.

"We gotta get in some last minute training, let's go!" Zoom.

Everyone running off, the vampa stared off into space, eight hours until the next round. What should he do? He was probably in the quarterfinals now. Maybe he should find someone to train with. But, who could he spar with at this time of day? He doesn't know. Maybe he should ask around. Leaving the stadium, the bun gazed at the empty city around him. There's still no one here. Just what's going on?

Heading for the temple once again, the bun wondered. Why does it feel like there's even less buns around than there were yesterday? Just what was it about the Mystic Carrot Bowl that had everyone disappear in such great numbers like this? He doesn't know, maybe they had other matters to attend to? Sigh, he needs to focus on the day at hand here, forget the Frosaro regulars.

Returning to his temporary accommodations, the young adult placed his finger on his chin. Who should he train with? Does he even need to do anymore of that at this stage in the game? Maybe not, but he supposed he could never be too sure who he might be up against next. Right, it's best to be prepared for anything; he can't fail now.

Knock, knock, knock, knock.

Pesky disturbance drowning the area, the young adult let out a groan. Who could that be at this hour? He needs to take a look. Hopping towards the door, a surprise threw itself into the mix. Huh? What's Susu doing here? Maybe she had a job in the area? Finally, a regular! Reaching for his Talkmaster B, the bun's hands were on the knobs, rapid fire.

Little shocked face drawn, the bun shook the device. Okay, no, that's coming off way too strong here, isn't it? Maybe he ought to be less direct. Unsure face drawn in its place, smoke was ready to come out of the vampa's ears. No, that wouldn't get to the point here, either. Come on, Siorc, try a little harder. Finding a middle ground for the time being, the young adult sighed. This will do, maybe.

[Susu, I'm surprised to see you here! Where is everybody? Is there something you need from me?] A crackling voice said through the Talkmaster B's speakers.

"Ah, don't worry about all that, everyone will be back eventually," Susu said, shaking her head. "Your friends wanted me to take you to the waterfall."

Waterfall brought to his attention, the bun scratched his cheek. Why there, of all places? Oh, right, there were some buns that lived back there. Did he really have to go train with them? He supposed it would be a perfect time to do so. Would this really work out? Maybe they wouldn't agree to this, who knows? Talkmaster B out in front of him, he turned the knobs once again.

[Are you sure about this? What if they're not here either?] A crackling voice asked through the Talkmaster B's speakers.

"They never leave their abode, it's fine," Susu responded. "So, do you want to go? I'm sure they'll all be eager for a repeat opponent."

[Well, alright, then lead me to them, please.] A crackling voice said through the Talkmaster B's speakers.

"Of course! Let's get going!" Susu responded, hand extended.

Hopping through the empty town, the bun's eyes wandered. Will every single bun really return after the Mystic Carrot Bowl comes to an end? He doesn't know, maybe they won't. What if they're all being held captive somewhere by some godbun!? No, no, happy thoughts, Siorc, happy thoughts. What a silly thing to even consider! They're just somewhere else for the time being surely. Right, this always happens during this time of year, that's what Marble said!

Reaching the waterfall after quite some time, the vampa gulped. Should he really go here? Maybe there's still a chance for him to turn back. No, no, he's already here, so why not live a little? It's fine, right, it's just a tiny bit of training, it's not like he's coming here for any other reason. Stepping through the roaring waters, the bun slapped his cheeks. Here goes nothing.

Party of four looking ready to knock him into next week, the bun backed two steps away. Okay, maybe he came at a bad time after all. Should he run? No, what would that do? He's already here. Raising his hands in the air, the young adult prepared himself for a pummeling of the ages. Please, don't swing too hard, he has a competition to get to today!

"And, whatarya doin' here, for, huh?!" Cyril cried, pounding his fists together. "Ya wanna fight or something?"

"Rumor has it this dude is in the quarterfinals of the Mystic Carrot Bowl!" Wanta cried, pounding his gloves together as well. "Let me guess, you want us to fight with you before the next round starts, aye? Sure, we're game!"

"Of course you'd be," Wren said, shaking her head. "You're always looking for something to kill."

"Who said we're in for the kill, huh?!" Cyril asked, punching his fists inward. "Ya wanna fight, huh? I can give ya a good match!"

"As if, Irritated Hare would lose to us in two seconds!" Wanta exclaimed.

"Uh, hello?! Can't anyone get a clue here?!" Tegne shouted, hands on the sides of his temples. "First off, this guy is in the quarterfinals!"

"Yah, yah, we heard alla that! Ya think I'm deaf or something?!" Cyril asked, punching.

"Sometimes, I think you might be!" Tegne exclaimed hands in the air. "Get a clue, why don't you?! He's fighting in the quarterfinals, hello?! Don't you think you two should, I don't know, ramp it up a notch?! But, don't pound him into next week, either!"

"Who died and made you boss?!" Wanta cried. "Listen here, buddy, ain't no one say nothing about knocking this dude out!" He then pounded his fist on the air. "You wanna train, huh? Well, guess what, you're in luck! We ain't got nothing better to do!"

"Do we ever, though?" Wren asked, shaking her head.

Wham.

"Anyone else got anything stupid to say before I pummel 'em next?" Cyril asked, blowing his boxing gloves.

Tegne raising his finger into the air, the bun could feel it. There it is, any second now, and he's going to be given the punch of a lifetime. Should he step in and put a stop to this? Maybe he should. But, if he said something wrong, he would so be pummeled into next week. Forget it, it's better to not. Talkmaster B out in front of him, he turned the knobs rapid fire.

[Alright, bring it on! But, I'll warn you, I'm good.] A crackling voice said through the Talkmaster B's speakers.

"Yeah, yeah, sure ya are, bud," Cyril cried, pounding his fists. "Show us what you got then!"

Gangsta Hare hopping upward, the bun's eyes wandered. When did they get so quick on their feet?! Okay, Siorc, focus, where are they? They're definitely somewhere close, he can feel it. But, where? They've got to be around here somewhere. Ah, there they are, here comes the punches, front and center!

Barrages of punches ready to bury him deep, the young adult let the shield do the talking. But, it wasn't enough almost immediately. Strikes awarded to his ears, the bun huffed. Now, that packed quite the punch! Okay, no, now is not the time for awful puns like that, come on now! Brushing the barrage off, the prepared himself for the next round.

"You seem like you got a hang of using that shield of yours!" Wanta shouted. "But, I bet you ain't all that when it comes to close range combat!" He then pointed at his earrings. "Turn that thing of yours into some gloves now!"

Removing his earrings, the bun lowered his eyes into a squint. He wants him to do what now? Well, alright, here goes, he guesses. Hairpin turned into two boxing gloves, he steeled himself. It's about time he does some long winded punches, here goes nothing. Waiting for the right opportunity to strike, he swore he saw jaws drop in the corner.

"This dude's gotten faster!" Cyril shouted. "He jump into some volcano or something?"

"Yes, actually," Wren said, arms crossed.

"How do you know all that, huh?!" Cyril cried.

"You act like we never hear anything that goes on in the outside world!" Wren shouted. "I hope you get pummeled instead!"

"Time out for a sec!" Tegne shouted.

Huh? Time out, why?