CHAPTER 820: 820: DIVINE GAME – CARD SWAP 69

Buying seasonal ingredients at the ice cream shop burned through every credit Rita had stolen.

From the magic items she’d taken off other contestants, she’d only kept a dagger and an accessory that reduced skill cooldowns. Everything else she’d handed over to the white bear.

In earlier matches, she wasn’t the only one to obtain a [Demon’s Pass].

She’d watched the team competition, so she knew exactly who else had one. The list might not be complete, but it was more than enough.

Half an hour later, another apprentice fell to Rita’s blade.

When their weapons clashed, both of them said at the same time, "You’re the god I’ve been looking for."

She wasn’t the only clever one—but there could only be one winner.

Still, the task didn’t complete.

A string of wrong guesses cooled her head. She stopped worrying about whether someone else might beat her to the goal.

The quest said clearly: "A god is hidden in Demon City."

If there’s only one, then why do the hints point to so many contestants?

She bent down to pick up the [Demon’s Pass], now a metal token again after its owner’s death.

Looking at it in its original form, another thought struck her: the [Demon’s Pass] counted toward the limited number of magic items you could bring into the game.

So... could it be that because the ending wasn’t yet decided, the hints couldn’t point to one person?

And she—she was one of the players qualified to become "the god."

Which would mean someone had to actually become that god before the game could end.

Her fingers traced the raised lettering on the back. She couldn’t read it—it was the same kind she’d only seen in the rooms of those eight mysterious beings in the Old District.

Footsteps sounded behind her. Rita slipped the token into her palm and turned toward the figure who’d been shadowing her, now making noise on purpose to lower her guard—Pomango.

Rita remembered her well, thanks to her unusual racial trait, just like Windrush and Mojie’s.

Windrush had hurricane-like ears, Mojie sported two white, mushroom-like feelers on his head, and Pomango’s hair changed color to exactly match the opponent she was most wary of.

Right now, Pomango’s hair was the same black as Rita’s.

A terrible race for keeping secrets.

Pomango stopped at a safe distance, her hand holding her staff lowered loosely. "That pass in your hand—will you sell it?"

She’d clearly guessed something from their fight and its outcome.

Rita didn’t refuse outright. She put the token behind her back and asked, "What’s your offer?"

"Five attribute points."

Rita scolded her like she’d just kicked a puppy. "This could be the personal match championship, and you’re offering five points? Where’s your ambition?"

Shameless—taking a game item whose link to the quest wasn’t even confirmed yet and immediately equating it with the championship?

Pomango breathed evenly and said in a level tone, "...I thought not ambushing you just now was proof enough of my sincerity."

Rita’s gaze flicked to Pomango’s divine talent list, and her pulse jumped.

The [Crime Simulation] in her first slot still ended with [Moment of Reversal]—only one of its three trial uses remained.

But her skill two and skill three had both changed completely, now unrelated to [Great Detective]. She’d clearly traded for them.

Rita grinned. "You’re not avoiding a fight because you don’t want to attack me—you’re avoiding it because you’re scared."

Anyone who’d used [Moment of Reversal] knew its prerequisites.

You had to be at a disadvantage, and the opponent had to inflict any kind of damage on you—a category so broad it could be anything from HP loss to a debuff.

Rita hadn’t tested the limits, but she suspected even verbal damage might count.

Right now, she was obviously at a disadvantage in HP. If Pomango attacked, Rita could trigger [Moment of Reversal] on her.

Her eyes lingered on the [Crime Simulation] in Pomango’s first slot.

She’d wanted that skill since the fun match, but [Spring Pumpkin] was rare too—a heal that worked on herself or allies as long as the pumpkin wasn’t destroyed, restoring 1% HP per second.

Pomango didn’t argue.

Rita said, "I’ll give you the pass, but you’re going to use [Crime Simulation] to copy one of my skills right now."

She flicked a casual C-rank ice arrow into the wall beside them.

"I don’t like people copying my skills. As for my sincerity..."

She cast [Nebula Bubble] on herself, canceled the nearly-drained [Mystic Force], then used [Endless Autumn] to top her HP back to full.

Pomango wasn’t one to drag things out. After a brief pause, she said decisively, "Deal."

Following Rita, she’d eventually be able to simulate another [Moment of Reversal]. She’d already traded for every divine talent skill she wanted and could get. And as for trading away the SSS-tier one from her school? Not happening. She wanted to keep living.

They were both here for a clean trade.

Two minutes later, Pomango walked away with the token.

Rita looked at the [Crime Simulation] now sitting in her inventory and felt nothing but satisfaction.

Even though it could replicate any skill used in the past 24 hours within a given area, she didn’t go back to where she’d killed Mojie to copy [Low-Risk Investment].

She had enough. These were seeds she wouldn’t use lightly. She’d wait until she found a skill worth locking them in for permanently.

As for the [Demon’s Pass] she’d given Pomango—it was just a [Temporary Possession] clone.

The real one stayed tucked safely in her pocket. She decided to head back to the Old District to search for more clues.

Even if the copy would vanish in six hours, she couldn’t underestimate Pomango. Everyone’s quest progress was neck and neck—underestimating Pomango was underestimating herself.

But before that, she noticed she had five minutes left on [Nebula Bubble]’s damage absorption. Following her wrist display, she used [Absolute Freedom] to reach the most intense battle zone, soaking hits for a few minutes and picking off a few contestants before leaving.

Standing outside the Old District again, she sighed inwardly. She’d given that thank-you gift too early.

If she could bring it now and ask the white bear to translate for her, that would be perfect—thoughtful, even.

Going now would just look premeditated, like the gift was a bribe.

Rita hid in the shadows, expressionless, staring toward the Old District.

She knew plenty of players were tailing her—Pomango might be among them.

That’s just how games worked: whether you were a god-tier player or a complete rookie, you couldn’t hide for long.

Go on, she thought. All of you. Head into the Old District.

A pit that big shouldn’t be hers alone to fall into. Best if everyone took a turn.

The messier it got, the easier it would be for her to fish in troubled waters.