All the students were crowding forward, desperate to see what they had just spent a fortune on.

Mistblade and Maple Syrup were pressed right against the counter, tails and wings lashing so fast they left afterimages. Not because they were excited, but because they were smacking anyone who dared to shove them.

The raptor standing behind Mistblade had already been whipped so many times by her tail that it could barely stay upright.

By the time their teammates broke free of the crush, Rita finally saw what Mistblade was hugging.

A box.

She blinked. "That's the ship pet? A… square box?"

Mistblade, struggling to keep hold of it as they pushed toward the exit, replied, "Yes, but it won't open yet. And we can't store it in our inventory either."

Outside the shop, contestants were already starting to die. After pawning off another gem and spending half an hour stocking up on essentials, they decided not to waste any more time. If they hesitated, all the decent ships would be taken.

The box made them stand out far too much. Wherever they went, waves of players swarmed them. Everyone was throwing ultimates. Rita had to burn both Rule 710 and Rule 711 just to hold the line. She stopped short of using [Mystic Force], but only just.

A fire dragon wreathed in alcohol fumes barreled through the crowd, scattering attackers. Rita tossed aside the battered crab claw she had been wielding and scooped up a fallen dagger from the street. "Any intel on how to pick ships?" she shouted.

Motor shook his head. "None. Same as the treasure. Nothing."

But when they reached the docks, they froze.

Not a single ship had left.

The port was chaotic, yes, but nowhere near as bloody as the shops had been. Dozens of teams had already boarded, yet none of the vessels had set sail.

Those aboard simply sat or stood, silently watching the contestants still shipless.

Rita immediately spotted Mojie and Pomango on the same boat. Pomango's hair shimmered in rainbow streaks. Poor Pomango—too many powerful beings nearby, too many conflicting auras, and her hair just couldn't decide.

As they sprinted past, Rita whistled. "Stylish."

Pomango: "…"

Dodging incoming skills, Rita still kept her eyes sharp on the ships. No patterns. No numbers. Random colors, shapes, sizes.

She pointed without hesitation at a small white yacht. "That one!"

The team didn't question it. They had agreed on the way here—if no reliable intel showed up, Rita's luck stat was the tie-breaker. Hers was two points higher than the rest.

They rushed aboard.

Compared to the massive frigates, this little yacht was only medium-sized, about five meters long. Big enough for five, not the largest, not the smallest.

What caught Rita's attention was the open deck. No cabin. The helm was exposed, the top deck open. Perfect for fighting. Perfect for a full 360-degree view of sky and sea.

The only downside: they would have to guard the helm carefully.

As soon as all five boarded, a prompt appeared.

[Ship bound. Cannot switch vessels until game ends. Sailing requirement: 80% ship activation. Current activation: 52%.]

Straightforward enough. But how the seafaring stage worked—or why they all had to set out together—remained a mystery.

Motor immediately began inspecting the yacht's systems, cross-checking their haul of fuel and repair kits, slotting items into the right sockets, and layering protective enchantments with his divine skill.

Mistblade and Fat Goose crouched over the "ship pet" box, prodding at its surface.

Rita circled the boat, inspecting every corner, then climbed to the top deck to study the other ships and their crews.

She flicked a spark of fire toward the nearest vessel. It fizzled harmlessly against a transparent shield. A skill? Or a game mechanic?

Maple Syrup finished her own inspection and joined Rita at the rail, both of them scanning the competitors nearby.

Then Fat Goose called in team chat: [Come see this!]

They hurried back to the helm.

On the little table sat a white ball, carved with a black number: 7.

Rita's brow furrowed. She'd seen this before. But where?

She glanced up—and saw the same puzzled look on all her teammates' faces.

She shifted to block Pine Bloom's gaze from the next ship over. "You all thinking what I'm thinking?"

Mistblade tested the ball. It wouldn't budge. "Relax. It's bound to the ship."

Still, their private channel lit up.

[Maple Syrup]: I remember a game from Forest Sea. Lots of balls with numbers. Played both above ground and underground. The core mechanic was always the same: hit the cue ball with a stick, knock the others into holes.

Recognition sparked in Rita's head. Pool. Billiards. She'd seen it on TV once.

She quickly outlined the rules.

[Mistblade]: Snowlands has a similar game…

[Fat Goose]: Shadowless too.

[Motor]: Even Rage Isles.

The five fell silent. Their eyes drifted back to the number seven ball.

A sinking realization. This "ship pet"… might not be entirely good news.

They all remembered the hidden mission: Destroy the Cue.

And suddenly the game's structure started to make sense.

From the next ship, Pine Bloom called out. "Hey, Sparrowhawk. Want to trade intel?"

Rita nudged Maple Syrup with an elbow. "She's talking to you."

Maple Syrup turned, keeping her expression neutral. "What intel?"

Pine Bloom leaned casually on her mast, arms folded, chin tilted down. She pointed at the ball on their table. "We've got one too."

"How many?" Maple Syrup asked.

"Six. You?"

"How much did yours cost?"

"Five thousand Fishcoins. Yours?"

"Ninety thousand."

One question answered for each. The exchange was over.

Then Motor's voice chimed in the team channel. [She lied about the six.]

Fat Goose groaned. "Your lie detection has a delay that long? Good thing Maple Syrup's sharp, or we'd be broke by now."

Rita frowned. "Wait. I remember something about Pine Bloom—"

Before she could finish, Pine Bloom smirked. "Autumn Deer. I just heard her thoughts. Ninety thousand? Try fifty."

Maple Syrup: "…"

Rita: "...Great. She has mind reading."