CHAPTER 952: 952 BY THEIR OWN HANDS

Three beams of light spiraled together and struck the center of the arena. After two full Divine Games, the white gate engraved with ornate magical sigils appeared once again.

It was Rita’s first time actually seeing it. Her memories from the last time she opened GodDraw77 ended right when she found the Moon Crown.

Above the gate, a countdown floated in the air. Forty-eight hours remained.

After forty-eight hours, the gate would have to be opened by her—the one who had triggered GodDraw77. Only she could do it. Once she pushed it open, every student who had participated in this year’s Divine Game would be allowed inside.

Rita pulled her gaze back and cleared her throat, planning to say something like she used to, but the audience didn’t quiet down this time.

Please, who cared about hearing her talk now?

GodDraw77 had finally appeared again. What could possibly be more important?

Every spectator jumped to their feet, hugging the beings next to them. The shyer and more introverted ones simply bounced in place, grinning from ear to ear.

Even Lightchaser stood up—well, she stood up and smiled.

The black cat, who had been leaping around on its seat, couldn’t take it anymore. It sprang onto Lightchaser’s shoulder and pawed at the corner of her mouth.

"Can’t you smile a little wider? You look terrifying right now!" it complained.

The blood elf, who had just finished hugging a ghost to her left, turned back and added, "That’s what’s really terrifying, actually!"

On the special viewing platform, Wrong Answer was already clicking around the other headmasters in a dance circle. GodDraw77 and Wail were animatedly arguing about who had contributed more to Rita’s training.

And Lightchaser? Lightchaser was just the troublemaker of the group—the one who bullied cubs and scarred their childhoods.

The only quiet area left was the waiting zone, where the players’ cards lay scattered.

When players left the game, nearly all active skill effects were purged—except for a few very specific costs. Among the wiped skills was [The Mysterious One].

On two fallen cards stood Maple Syrup and Mistblade, shoulder to shoulder.

Their heads bowed slightly, right elbows resting on their left forearms, right hands half-covering their faces, two fingers pressing at their brows. They had maintained this posture since leaving the game, not moving an inch, looking as if their souls had drifted away some time ago.

Fat Goose crept toward them cautiously. "You two still alive?"

Nearby, Pine Bloom—who had barely survived a combined sneak attack from Quex and Crab and was now trying to raise her negative health points back above zero—burst into laughter the moment she saw the pair’s frozen poses.

"You two looked like absolute idiots back there," she said.

Motor, who was currently locked in an intense staring contest with Cinnabar, tilted his chin in their direction without breaking eye contact. "Not like idiots," he said. "They were idiots."

Fat Goose held his breath and took a few careful steps back. The air around Mistblade and Maple Syrup radiated such killing intent that he could practically feel it on his skin.

"So," he whispered, "are you two even now?"

Mistblade finally lowered her hand and gave him a look reserved for the truly hopeless. Then, in a deceptively calm tone, she asked Maple Syrup, "You’re sure you don’t want to wake them up too?"

Maple Syrup kept her eyes closed as if deep in thought. Only when most of the players had left the platform—leaving perhaps a dozen students scattered nearby—did she finally speak.

"When BlueStar shatters, are you really going to honor the divine contract and give me the fragments of Forest Sea? Or have you already found a sacrifice to break the vow?"

It was the first time she had brought it up directly.

Mistblade’s fingers brushed the hilt of her blood-mist blade. A faintly scarlet barrier formed around them, isolating their conversation from the outside world. Her voice was soft.

"I don’t want to insult you with pretty lies. That would be an insult to both of us."

That, in itself, was an answer.

Just as Mistblade thought Maple Syrup might lash out, the latter finally spoke.

"So it’s like when you invaded Forest Sea back then? Every world for itself?"

"The rules of the world have always been that way." Mistblade paused, then added, "And haven’t you already prepared for it? Otherwise, why would you have pushed so many of Lania Kaia’s strongest monarchs into the game? If not for the Wither Monarch holding the line, wouldn’t you have stayed outside yourself?"

Maple Syrup opened her eyes at last and looked up toward the sky, where GodDraw77 floated, scattering Scratch Cards over the crowd.

After a long silence, she shook her head. "If you want to wake them, go ahead. But I won’t let them wake."

A sudden thought crossed her mind—she remembered the look Wither Monarch had given Raccoon Ironmeal and Misu before the game started.

That look made her suspect that Wither Monarch and Mistblade already knew about the alliance between the Wind Scythe Sirens and the Oak Owls.

Bone Shade was probably on guard too. If the plan to seize the fragments in the real world was at risk, why would she be so desperate to make BS-Rita lose here?

Something in the war between Lania Kaia and BlueStar had shifted—that much she was certain of—but Divine Game itself remained fair.

The undead and the moon foxes had paid dearly for their early invasion. No matter what BS-Rita offered, the gods would not halt the war.

Could the outcome of a single Card Swap really decide BlueStar’s destruction? Impossible.

Captain hadn’t lied, but he hadn’t told the truth either.

In that case, why wake Wither Monarch and the others, only to let them throw themselves into the scramble for divine relics?

Four relics had already surfaced besides her own [Faded Homeland]. She might as well seize the opportunity and claim one herself—to use later, when she would have to turn against Wither Monarch and Mistblade.

Then she froze for a moment.

She realized that every word she had said, every thought she had entertained, revolved around one assumption—that neither she nor Mistblade could stop BS-Rita from winning the game and claiming GodDraw77.

Her gaze drifted once more to the airborne student showering the audience in glittering Scratch Cards.

Then she turned away, her sleeves sweeping in a clean arc as she left.

The game wasn’t over yet.

Mistblade blinked into place beside her, matching her pace as they departed.

Fire-colored wings and a dark tail-tip swayed in unison.

"If I said that after BlueStar shatters, I can help you steal the last fragment of Forest Sea from Wither Monarch and hold it for you—if you help Lania Kaia destroy Nuclear Flash, I’ll return it to you. What would you say?"

Maple Syrup didn’t even look at her. "I’d say go to hell."

"..."