The Battle for Dream Island was over. In some sense. According to *some* definitions.
Really, it was a long time coming at that point. The eponymous island that everyone was fighting over was nothing but a distant memory to them at this point, having completely disappeared without a trace ever since Leafy stole it from its rightful winner and essentially exiled herself from civilization. Then *that* little narrative would resolve itself, so the matter of Dream Island was, like, *doubly* dead. It was gone. It was done. It was *over*. There was nothing else left to write about. The Battle for Dream Island was about Dream Island, unsurprisingly, and there can't be a Battle for it if it doesn't exist. Doesn't exist to them, anyway; it could've emerged somewhere else, or perhaps is just waiting to be found in some other corner of the world, like loose change wedged between the couch cushions. But they hadn't seen it, they hadn't cared about it, and everyone was out and about looking for their own island of dreams nowadays.
More on that later.
But unfortunately, the universe doesn't work that way; reality is reality, and so while everyone expects stories to be wrapped up in a nice little bow, and everyone involved gets to ride off into the sunset in a *very* happy ending, 99 times out of 100 that just *isn't* what happens. While everyone stares in awe at all the stories that got their thrilling and exciting resolution, there are about 2,763 others for each one of them, tales and threads that went nowhere, that continue to persist in this moribund state, that are left neglected, that do nothing but collect dust and rot. Why *did* the speaker box fall out of the sky and start the Battle for Dream Island, anyhow? Why did everyone seem so keen on fighting for it? Whatever happened to those that wanted to join in, but were set aside due to any number of arbitrary restrictions? Whatever happened to *Needle*?
Those stories, if ever, would only barely cross their mind for a split-second before they got back to whatever it was they were doing; they had their *own* stories to take care of, for crying out loud, so why should they care about all these irrelevant nobodies that couldn't take the chance? It's their fault, and they shouldn't be considered whatsoever.
Right, Dream Island.
So, the first Battle for Dream Island ends without a satisfying conclusion; the island gets stolen, the speaker boxes disappear without a trace, and everyone is once again left to fend for themselves and survive in this harsh, cruel world. It was a long, arduous struggle, but they ended up making it in the end. They were once again free to look out into the world beyond, a boundless land of opportunities and adventures just *waiting* to be enjoyed. So much to take in, so much to see, so much to do, so much to be. With their skills sharpened by their competition, there was no better time to get to work in shaping their little corner of this wide-open sandbox. And so, with the near-infinite possibilities of the world shining before them, what do they choose to do on that fateful day, that fine day?
Why, start *another* dull and tedious competition for some dumb prize, of course!
They picked out some random nobody they didn't have to listen to be the host, they drew lines in the sand that did nothing but cause chaos and confusion, and they even created a new prize for them to fight over when they realized this great, gaping gap in their plan.
In hindsight, it *just* didn't make any sense. There was absolutely nothing telling them to go forth and start *another* awful battle, one that would undoubtedly go on to *also* not tie up all the loose ends. But prior to all this nonsense, all they were doing for all their lives was just... *existing*. Boring, tedious, monotonous existence. They just hung out in the grasslands, talked to others occasionally, sometimes got up to some mischief. Every day was the same, and they all started to blend together; looking back at it, those days might as well have not occurred at all. They were days that were successfully wasted, days that contributed absolutely nothing to anything whatsoever.
