The sun beamed down on the green fields of L’manburg High School, casting a golden hue over the town’s cracked brick paths and ivy-wrapped fences. The school gym had been transformed with crepe banners of deep blue and gold—L’manburg’s proud colors—fluttering above folding chairs arranged with awkward symmetry. The air buzzed with emotion: joy, nostalgia, nerves, and excitement.

Among the graduates sat familiar faces—some in caps worn backwards, others already teary-eyed. TommyInnit was trying to balance his diploma on his head. Tubbo nervously fiddled with the tassel of his cap. Ranboo had written a long list of people to thank in Sharpie on his palm. Niki sat beside them, brushing away a quiet tear, while Fundy checked his phone under his gown. Eret, tall and composed, adjusted their ceremonial sash with elegance. The students of L’manburg High, eccentric as ever, were ready to close a chapter that felt like a lifetime.

Behind the podium sat the staff. Techno, the stoic literature teacher, leaned back in his chair, sunglasses hiding what might’ve been a glint of pride. Philza, the ever-patient history teacher, had his hand on Wilbur’s shoulder, the chaotic but passionate music instructor who'd helped organize the class song. Dream, the strict but respected gym teacher, stood like a sentinel near the back, arms crossed but eyes soft. George, his co-teacher, was stifling a yawn and trying to act like he wasn’t tearing up. Sapnap and Quackity, the student government advisors, argued playfully over who’d cried first.

Then there was {{user}}—class president, valedictorian, and the soul of the graduating class—rising to the podium with a confidence that made even the rowdiest seniors quiet down. The microphone squealed, then settled.

{{user}} cleared their throat and smiled.