CHAPTER 821: 821: DIVINE GAME – CARD SWAP 70

The only thing Rita cared about now was whether the white bear might also be teaching combat techniques to other apprentices.

If it had, she’d have to take some time to eliminate that apprentice.

With a shield up and unable to injure herself directly, Rita made another trip to the ice cream shop.

She couldn’t tell if it was her fault, but the place seemed to have fewer and fewer customers...

In the end, the only one left to steal from was the shop clerk.

Judging from the way the clerk kept rolling his eyes at her, he’d already noticed.

Once her HP dropped to 5%, she waited for it to naturally recover to 6%, then struck again—draining it to 1% before triggering [School Rule No. 801] to activate [Mystic Force] once more.

With her most important pre-battle prep done, she didn’t rush into the Old District.

Partly because she was waiting for [School Rule No. 801]’s cooldown to finish, but mostly because she’d just stolen something unusual from the ice cream clerk—[Boiling Orange’s Key].

She was probably being streamed live right now, meaning the item’s info could be checked. But to feel what it looked like, she had to keep her hand in her pocket.

A sphere wrapped in flames?

Every second, the burning made her lose 1–3 HP.

She thought she knew exactly what this was.

That burning orange... the first statue she’d seen when the game started.

Maybe she’d been wrong about something—could Demon City’s residents really be called demons?

Just because every resident had a [Demon’s Pass], she’d assumed they were demons. But the pass description was clear: "It is the credential required to live and move about in Demon City."

A pass to move freely—nothing more.

If anything could be called a demon, it would be the demon statues scattered through the city.

She hid the key, grabbed an ice cream, greeted the now-familiar clerk, then sat on the floor behind the counter to eat.

Her knees balanced the metal-token [Demon’s Pass], the unreadable script on it facing up.

The orange-haired clerk, who had a kind face and a few freckles, asked, "Got someone you know in the Old District? You’re always heading in there."

Still lost in thought, Rita answered without hesitation, "Yeah. I’m pretty close with that white bear."

Boiling Orange: ...You really dare to say that.

He cleared his throat. "You’re not from around here, are you?"

Busy mapping Demon City in her head, Rita replied automatically, "Of course I am. Born and raised here. I’m a purebred demon. Tournament grade."

Boiling Orange: ...

Headache incoming.

So little BS-Rita had been talking nonsense since she was a kid—it wasn’t something she picked up later.

The hopeless girl went on, "Since I just told you something personal, can you answer a question for me?"

"Let’s hear it."

"Can you leave this ice cream shop?"

"..."

"You’re Boiling Orange, right? Out of the five burning orange statues, which one’s your home?"

His hands stilled. He didn’t want to answer either question.

Slowly, he lowered his gaze to the apprentice leaning against the wall cabinet, her eyes sparkling.

His pause was enough for her to guess.

She waved at him, flashing a smug, wicked grin. "I know how to play this game now."

By the time she finished her ice cream, Rita had drawn the entire Demon City map in her mind.

After the match began, she’d used time-stop to walk through every area the team competition hadn’t covered—but back then, she’d been so focused on the Old District she’d forgotten to do the most important thing: fully complete the map in her head.

She wouldn’t claim to know every street, but she was over 98% certain.

During the "garbage time" when half the apprentices on the big screens had fallen asleep, she’d stayed right on the deck, never leaving.

Clues she’d missed before now fit perfectly into place with the help of this key.

Connecting the five burning orange statues put their midpoint right at this ice cream shop.

If only statue owners were actual demons...

If the statues’ intersection point marked where the demon was...

Then to turn the contestants named in the hints into true gods, maybe they’d need to have five statues built for them—then visit the statues’ intersection point to "log in."

The schools’ apprentices weren’t puppets; they wouldn’t just let her crown them gods. Even if they agreed, they’d probably be handing victory to someone else in the final moment.

The only right—or maybe only possible—way to play was to become the god herself.

If the team match was about destroying five statues...

Then the solo match was about building five statues of your own, and becoming a god before other contestants destroyed them.

And then... killing yourself.

But where would she find the statues?

Rita opened her palm, looking down at the [Demon’s Pass].

Just now, when she’d been thinking about building statues, she’d heard the [Demon’s Pass] ask her: What is your key?

Key? What was her key?

She took off her wristband—it was her [Demon’s Pass] too. On the back was an inscription. She pointed at it. "Do you know what this says?"

Knowing BS-Rita had already cracked the game’s secret, Boiling Orange said softly, "Instinct will guide each person back to their original path."

And he was thrilled—what depth! The words matched Foolishness’s catchphrase perfectly.

Surely little BS-Rita was stunned.

But under his expectant gaze, Rita pinched the wristband, frowned, and asked, "Was the line always this long?"

Boiling Orange: ...

Right. Not everyone could be BS-Rita’s teacher.

Especially him—every time they talked, he wanted to throw her out.

Didn’t need to this time—she thanked him and slipped out the back of the shop using [Absolute Freedom], in too much of a hurry to stay.

...

The moment Rita had said, "I know how to play this game," Fat Goose had looked around cautiously and seen the same expression on the faces of every nearby spectator, no matter their school—realization.

Even Mistblade and Maple Syrup looked like that.

What? Was he the only idiot here?

He asked Mistblade, "You figured it out?"

Mistblade’s expression was serious. "I have, but I can’t tell you. It’s important info—what if contestants can pass it on to their schoolmates?"

Fat Goose nodded hard. "Makes sense. I won’t say either!"

Maple Syrup crossed her arms with a smirk. "Heh."

Both of them turned to her. "You know?"

"...Yeah. But I’m not saying."

The black cat covered her mouth, laughing. "You three are killing me."

The blood elf asked, "You know?"

The cat: "Of course. But I’m not telling."

The blood elf: "..."