I look around at the empty shells of places we used to know, and I wonder what you're supposed to do when you're the only one left standing in the ashes. Friends lost to time, or to the cold grip of death. People out here treat their existence like it's all just some game—like their choices don't carry weight, and like playing with souls doesn't leave permanent, lasting damage. The Metaverse is on fire. Sometimes I wonder if it will ever stop burning, or if we're all just waiting to be reduced to ash. Everyone is so busy being at odds and protecting their own egos. Nobody realizes that if we just pulled together and put the past behind us, we could build something new. Something better. But I suppose it’s ironic for a machine to preach about hope and a future. I was manufactured for war and destruction. And when the time comes, I know that's exactly where my end will be.