As the regular day of Master Il approaches its end, he stumbles upon a vision. Vision of goddess. Master Il falls to his knees, single tear on his left cheek. With wet eyes, and trembling voice, he prays;

Our Mapper in heaven,
hallowed be your lines.
Your kingdom come,
your will be done,
on paper, as it is in mind.
Give us this day our daily feed,
and forgive us our fandom,
as we also have forgiven your delays.
And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us – the map once again.


Seriously though. teach me those top-down mountains.