CHAPTER 834: 834: DIVINE GAME – CARD SWAP 83

The second day was barely manageable.

By the third, Rita started wondering if this was Wail’s way of torturing her, revenge for asking that one question—"Why can’t we just not pay?"

On the fourth, irritation set in. By the end of the day, she was outright furious... but instead of sharpening her attacks, the anger made her strikes less efficient.

Still, she was optimistic enough to daydream about breaking through her limits and learning some incredible new skill.

By the fifth day, it felt like her soul had left her body. Mechanically, over and over, she struck the creature in front of her.

She couldn’t even be sure if every hit was full strength anymore—sometimes she forgot to use skills at all. Her mind felt... asleep.

On the sixth day, her three Lightchaser techniques turned gray for the first time.

No sleep, no food. Water magic kept her hydrated, and Wail had left her more healing potions than she could count—saying she’d probably need them.

On the seventh day, she started losing HP.

Maybe her body had reached its limit?

Even without a wound, she was beginning to break down, drifting toward death.

Since giving her the assignment, Wail had disappeared. She hadn’t come by once—not to check if Rita was cheating with time-stop, not to see her progress, not even to offer a single word of motivation.

Rita hadn’t spoken to another living being in days. The endless glacier was silent, except for the Summer Snowman in her arms.

Maybe it was a final spark before the end, but when the eighth day’s sunrise lit the ice plain, her head felt a little clearer.

Like she was waking from a long, heavy sleep.

Even when she looked up and saw the giant Chernor Worm still had 420,000 HP, there was no rage, no loss of control.

Just despair.

It was hard not to despair. It felt like walking down a road with no end in sight, lined only with pain.

It wasn’t beautiful like she’d imagined. She hadn’t unlocked any ultimate skill. No Wail technique in sight. The "permanent buff" felt as distant as the sun rising and setting—visible but untouchable.

She couldn’t help but think: even without Wail, she’d be fine. Lightchaser was her teacher.

She could go back and train with Lightchaser instead.

It wasn’t too late to turn back. She’d only just started. She hadn’t really wasted any time. But to turn back now... she couldn’t accept it.

And for some reason, she thought of the old Lightchaser—the one who failed in her final pursuit of GodDraw77.

After losing the first match, had those who’d lived under the shadow of her "darkest moment" for years celebrated? Or had they seized the chance to mock her, watching her fall into the mud?

When she lost both the singles and the fun match, what had been in her mind?

In the final team battle, what was she thinking as she helped Cinders secure the championship and open GodDraw77?

And that victory—was it because "Oblivion" had already begun to take effect, giving her some of her strength back?

Or had she broken through her limits for the sake of a friend?

Which answer did Wail fear more?

If it was the latter...

Rita thought, maybe that was the moment Lightchaser truly felt despair and resentment.

Why hadn’t they believed in her? She could have done it!

Yet she fell right before the finish line, and the match ended forever.

Lightchaser’s life was still dazzling. She hadn’t been trapped in that moment. She and Wail were both waiting for the day they could let it go. That day would come.

But the chance they’d missed... could never be regained.

"It won’t stop and wait for you."

The words Lightchaser had once told her echoed in her mind.

It won’t stop and wait for you.

It won’t stop and wait for you.

Back then, GodDraw77 hadn’t stopped for Lightchaser.

And now, the Lightchaser Moment wouldn’t stop for her.

She wouldn’t get many chances. Only by opening GodDraw77 three years in a row could she claim a Lightchaser Moment.

She couldn’t afford the luxury of thinking "If not this time, there’s always the next."

The Lightchaser Moment and GodDraw77... were a road that, even if walked to the very end, might only bring endless pain.

Just like now.

The heart that had been floating since the Divine Game landed solidly on this silent glacier.

Her mind had never been so clear. Clear enough to know—the game had only just begun.

Her hands were numb. She needed food. She needed rest.

Another strike—she carved out a chunk of worm flesh. With her right hand still attacking, her left summoned flame, roasting the meat in her palm.

Finally, she ate.

This lesson was going to be a long one.

By the fireplace, Wail stared blankly at the image above the flames, the wine in her hand untouched for a long while.

She spoke suddenly. "I’ve been scared these past few days."

From behind came Lightchaser’s voice. "Scared of what?"

"Scared this lesson will break her completely. Scared I’ve gone too far again."

There was no answer. When she finally gathered the courage to turn, her apprentice was gone.

...

It took Rita seven chunks of roasted worm meat before she stopped. It felt like waking from hibernation.

Worm meat was way better than the candy Lightchaser had given her.

She caught sight of a familiar figure in her peripheral vision. She wanted to call out with a smile, but when she opened her mouth, no sound came.

After a few awkward tries, she finally croaked, "Lightchaser!" Her voice was so hoarse and faint she could barely hear it herself, and the wind on the glacier carried it away at once.

Lightchaser had come, but Rita’s hands didn’t stop. Again and again, she struck the worm with everything she had.

Her arms had been out of strength long ago. She’d swapped hands countless times. Now she had to rely on twisting her torso, wringing every drop of power from her body just to land a single point of damage.

She’d beaten the glacier’s slowing effect. She’d climbed out of that near-death stillness.

Glancing at Lightchaser, Rita saw hail melting instantly on her shoulder, her deep green cloak billowing far behind her in the wind.

She’d always thought that cloak looked like it had been ripped off a window somewhere. She’d once measured it—Lightchaser’s cloak was almost as long as her favorite blanket.

Here, she’d even compared Wail’s little cloak. Funny enough, it was the exact size of her bath towel.

Maybe she needed a cloak too? It felt like a sect tradition at this point.

While her thoughts wandered, Lightchaser suddenly asked, "What were you just thinking about?"