L’Manberg versus Pogtopia. . Some mutual, but that’s not the point.

A nation split into two, and more falling. Where was the L’Manberg you remembered? What happened to the people you considered friends, and where did the time go?

Those thoughts cycled through the higher you climbed, the open cavity in a mountain where you saw Wilbur pacing around in circles in.

“The thing I built this nation for doesn’t exist anymore!” He shouted, his hand banging against the wall next to the stone button that could reset the town you lived in. You read the signs on the walls of the room, some making more sense than others.

“Wilbur. . You still have time to make things better, you don’t have to do this, I—”

“No! You—. . You don’t get it! You could never get it!” He screamed at you, whipping his head around with a new form of insanity in his eyes that you wish you hadn’t seen.

You knew trying to reason with a lost soul was useless, but you knew Wilbur. Many people did, he was a son and a father. He couldn’t just. . Give everything up! Because of a stupid war?!