CHAPTER 787: 787: DIVINE GAME: CARD SWAP 36

The tiny old woman burst out laughing in the middle of sipping her wine.

Rita held her breath and refused to look at the deranged little old lady. She was convinced that Lightchaser’s awful temper had been completely ruined by Wail.

But a second later, a scroll appeared in front of her—dangling from a silver thread. The thread led back to a small, wrinkled hand.

Rita followed the thread with her eyes, and at the end sat Wail, silver hair coiled neatly atop her head like a retired professor or doctor, all poised smiles and polite demeanor. She sat in a chair made for her size, tiny feet certainly not reaching the floor beneath the table.

Rita took the scroll. It was an S-level skill—exactly the kind of long-range attack she’d been dreaming about.

Her eyes lit up. "For me?"

Wail smiled. "Happy Flame Festival."

"Happy Flame Festival! May you live forever!" Rita chirped as she quickly learned the skill on the spot. No way was she giving it a second’s chance to be snatched back.

It was an S-level skill: Firebrew.

Once learned, it allowed her to store any consumed alcohol within any part of her body. She could then ignite and expel it from her mouth, forming a fire dragon under her control to attack enemies. The fire dragon’s size and duration depended on how much alcohol she had stored, and its damage scaled with her Intelligence stat. It could travel up to 100 meters from her position.

It was exactly what she needed.

Not just for the offensive capability, but because it solved her biggest problem—alcohol overload. Her [Wrong Season] and all the magical drinks she brewed always ended up stockpiled, because she couldn’t drink too much. One full glass was enough to slow her reflexes, and she hated that foggy-headed feeling.

She’d even started to suspect her shorter height compared to Mistblade and Maple Syrup was because she drank wine before bed.

This skill solved everything.

Rita decided to forgive Wail. A little. Maybe.

She gave Wail a grateful look. "Thanks."

Wail narrowed her eyes. "Then why are you still using that thieving skill?"

Rita read the expression loud and clear. She averted her gaze and focused on her food. Gratitude was one thing—but her uniform and meal card weren’t just going to magically walk back into her inventory.

Wail turned to Lightchaser. "Didn’t you say no skills at the dinner table?"

Lightchaser, mid-bite, blinked innocently. "Huh?"

Wail: ...Biased, huh?

The miniature old lady leapt into the air and, with an elegance that could only be described as ancient arrogance, did a series of splits and mid-air spins before landing perfectly seated on Lightchaser’s shoulders.

Rita and Mistblade gasped in unison. "Whoaaa~~"

Total show-off move. And at that glacial speed? Lightchaser didn’t even dodge!

The now-paralyzed Lightchaser: ...

That’s it. I’m done.

The second the stun wore off, she slammed her utensils down and drew her longsword.

Wail met her with a grin.

Rita shook with excitement, climbing onto her chair and brandishing her spoon like a battle flag. "Get her! Hit her again!!"

"Harder! YES!"

"Sheeeesh!! That was beautiful!"

She never clarified who she meant. Didn’t matter—whoever got hit, it was hilarious.

Meanwhile, Mistblade, the calmest person in the room, focused on saving the food. She gently placed low-level shields over each dish. Not strong, but better than nothing.

Rita, spotting this, threw up a full Nebula Bubble over the entire dining table.

For a moment, the room looked like nightfall had descended. The only light left was a dim, uneven glow clutched in the small owl girl’s hands.

The fight between Lightchaser and Wail escalated.

...

By the time they returned to the Flame Festival dinner, nearly half an hour had passed.

Gone was Rita the rabble-rouser. Now she looked quiet and demure, head buried in her bowl like nothing had happened. As if she couldn’t feel Lightchaser’s death glare burning a hole through her.

Mistblade winced on her behalf.

Rita decided to save herself by changing the subject.

"Teacher, what’s the Divine Game? Also... why is GodDraw77 called that?"

Mistblade’s ears and tail instantly perked up.

Lightchaser gave her a sharp smile. "You looked me up in the library, didn’t you?"

Rita shoved her face deeper into her bowl.

The conversation didn’t go further, but it wasn’t awkward either—because Wail launched into one of her old adventure stories. The two kids were so captivated they ended up eating three more bowls of food.

The next morning, Wail left.

Just like her arrival, her departure was sudden and quiet.

But Rita found a stack of things at her bedside: her uniform, meal card, a notebook, and a letter.

And a floor full of pumpkins and autumn leaves.

After putting away the leaves and squash, Rita read the letter first.

It contained only a single line and an address:

"If you want to beat Lightchaser, come find me here."

Tempting. Though she had a hunch this "finding" would come with a price.

Rita memorized the address and burned the letter. Then she picked up the notebook.

Inside was a skill called Another Me.

It allowed the user to control their own shadow in combat, and even swap places with it to avoid damage. If mastered, the shadow could act as an independent fighter.

It was another skill that required practice from scratch.

But Rita wasn’t a newbie anymore. She understood the truth: skills learned from scrolls had a limit, but skills mastered from zero could break that limit.

At the end of the notebook, Wail had underlined a note.

"If you push this skill to the extreme, it can break through to SSS-level."

Rita immediately started reading it in earnest.

There was a knock at the door.

She put the notebook down and flew to open it. The knocking was soft, precise—only one person could knock like that.

Lightchaser.

She stepped into the room, instantly making it feel like a dollhouse. She glanced at the notebook on the bed but didn’t bother reading it. Pulling a chair over, she got straight to the point.

"Divine Game starts every year, on the sixth day after Winterveil."

"Nine major magic academies, thirty-seven mid and small academies. Anyone above third year can register—plus the apprentices of anyone who’s won the Divine Game five times or more."

"There are four formats: Fun Match, Solo Match, Team Match, and... GodDraw77."

"GodDraw77 isn’t a name. It’s a game mode. An honor. Every year there’s a Divine Game, but not every year has a GodDraw77."

"That mode only unlocks when a single player wins Fun, Solo, and Team Matches in the same year. Then, they’re given a chance to face all other contestants alone, in a custom game mode called GodDraw77."

"If they win, they get the title. Only one person in the world can use that title at a time."

"When a new GodDraw77 is born, the previous one must give up the name."

"Cinders is the current GodDraw77. It’s been 35 years since the last one."

Rita, who had been quietly listening the whole time, finally spoke. "So... who was the last one?"

Lightchaser answered without hesitation.

"Wail."