The Battle for Dream Island was over.
Well, at least they *think* it is, anyway. After all they've endured for so many years, after all the unexpected hindrances and curveballs thrown their way, it became pretty hard for them to know when to stop, when things ended.
Quite frankly, it should've all finished over a decade ago; the first Battle for Dream Island ended with the eponymous landmass completely gone, and the speaker box pulling the strings disappearing to places unknown. Isn't exactly the best time to keep things going.
But the universe is strange and cruel like that. Like Blocky, the hand of random chance is a cruel and devious trickster, setting up all sorts of nonsense and having them go through all sorts of pain and suffering.
Even though two years of battling had netted them nothing, even though there was nothing incentivizing them to keep the show running, they decided to do it anyway. There wasn't anyone capable of hosting the show? Just get TV to do it, then. There isn't a Dream Island for them to Battle for? Just create a new one. Hosts keep succumbing to the pressures of the competition? Just replace them with someone else that's more capable. And so, the battle just kept on going. Even as circumstances grew more and more dire, even though it became evident that they were all just Battling for Nothing, they still did it.
Then, it seemed, it was finally over.
The second Battle for Dream Island ended with no clear victor, and everyone decided to just cut their losses and move on. They settled in Yoyle City, made it their new home, and even bothered to start freeing those they had left stuck in that miserable metal box. For a little while, for just the *briefest* of moments, they actually felt relieved. They felt that it was over.
Then those algebralians suddenly started falling from the sky.
They weren't even Battling for Dream Island anymore; they were battling for... the very concept of BFDI. Whatever that means. They couldn't even question it, because it was just so *alluring*. Once more, the contestants would be sent through the gauntlet of untold agony and suffering, enduring the deafening wrath of those living numbers.
Most of them ended up seeking refuge in another number, and yet again, for a little while, things actually seemed to clear up. Despite promises of yet *another* competition (albeit for a slightly more tangible, slightly more useful prize), it seemed that Two had just given up and disappeared like the Announcer, *finally* letting them do whatever they wished.
Well, that was good while it lasted.
Once again, the cycle perpetuated itself. Really, it didn't matter who was in charge. They all had one thing in common, and it *definitely* wasn't good. They'd laugh, they'd cry, they'd fight amongst themselves, and then they'd die. Then they'd die again. And again. Over and over again. 2,763 times, then a little bit more. There just didn't seem to be an end in sight.
Then, it seemed, it was finally over.
The contestants couldn't quite believe it themselves, especially those that didn't win a single prize; well, *none* of them won, if one really thought about it. Having been molded extensively by years and years of competing, they figured that this was just a brief lull. That the next Battle for Dream Island was just around the corner. After all, they heard whispers and rumors that something *was* in the works.
But time kept on passing, and the world kept on spinning. Though plenty remained weary, everyone started distracting themselves from that lingering fear, and moved on to the next chapter of their lives. For some, it truly did feel like the Battle for Dream Island had ended. All things must come to an end, after all; perhaps it *was* time for it to go.
