CHAPTER 788: 788: DIVINE GAME: CARD SWAP 37

Rita didn’t even know what to say. Just imagining it—carrying the weight of that title—was suffocating.

Thank the stars her teacher wasn’t GodDraw77... otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to sleep at night.

She carefully studied Lightchaser’s expression but couldn’t read a thing. "So only the Divine Game can unlock GodDraw77? What about after graduation? You’ve won more than five times—can you recommend me for it?"

"No," Lightchaser said flatly. "After seventeen, you’re no longer eligible. The Divine Game doesn’t wait for anyone."

Then she held out a hand toward Rita. "Give me your hand."

"Which one?"

"Doesn’t matter."

Rita obediently extended her left hand—the one she didn’t usually use. Whether at school or out in the field, she always wore fingerless gloves to hide the mark on the back of her hand. But she had just woken up and wasn’t wearing gloves. The lantern emblem on her skin was starkly visible.

A moment later, Lightchaser slipped her hand under Rita’s palm, gripping her wrist.

The cub’s hand was so small, it wasn’t even as big as two joined elven knuckles.

Black flames ignited, wrapping around Rita’s hand. The fire slithered like a serpent, coiling tightly around Wrathful Moon, ready to crush it.

Lightchaser began to squeeze.

Rita let out a muffled cry. She couldn’t break free. Her entire body tensed as she glared at Lightchaser in pain.

A warning rang in her mind.

[Alert: Divine Relic is about to be destroyed—Divine Relic destruction imminent...]

Rita’s eyes turned red. It felt like she was back in the coliseum, back in that moment of near-death.

["Annihilation" halted—]

[Countdown to "Annihilation": 900 Starsea days]

Lightchaser released her.

Her expression remained calm as she spoke in a slow, deliberate voice.

"You have 900 days. I expect you to win at least one championship by the time you reach third year."

"When that moment comes, I’ll cancel the ’Annihilation.’ But if the countdown reaches zero, that artifact—and your left hand—will be erased from existence. No skill in the world can restore them."

"You love it, don’t you? Always telling it those silly little bedtime stories."

She stood, towering over her student, ice-gray-blue eyes cold as frost. Her smile lacked even a hint of warmth.

"You looked up my keywords. You should’ve known better. Destroying what people treasure—that’s how I grow stronger."

"This is your fourth lesson."

Rita clenched her jaw so hard her back teeth ached, as if that pain alone would keep her tears from falling. Her whole body trembled with rage, and her hand had already slid to her dagger. She looked like a cub ready to leap—angry, wounded, cornered.

They stared each other down in silence.

Lightchaser looked up, her gaze scanning the soul flame above Rita’s head.

That red region within the massive star hadn’t grown at all.

The cub was shocked, hurt, furious—but not hateful.

She might be cautious, but somewhere deep down, she still believed Lightchaser wouldn’t truly hurt her.

Just like always—unyielding. Not just in will, but in emotion.

Once she trusted someone, she didn’t waver. Until she suffered real, undeniable harm, the star that represented her faith wouldn’t shatter.

If her trust had been placed in someone worthy, that kind of loyalty would be dazzlingly precious.

But if not... it would become a punchline to a very cruel joke.

Lightchaser reached out and ruffled her hair, trying to smother the helpless ache in her chest with that small, habitual gesture.

Rita batted her hand away with her forehead, refusing the contact. She wouldn’t speak to her either.

Lightchaser didn’t waste time on coaxing kids. She casually tossed three scrolls and a notebook onto the bed—landing perfectly atop the notebook Wail had given her.

Then she turned and walked to the door, her voice steady and detached.

"There’s less time than you think. So run. Don’t stroll."

"I know you hate gambling. That’s a good habit. Keep it. Don’t bet on me going soft."

The door shut behind her.

It was a while before the little cub’s tense frame finally relaxed. She scrubbed at her face with her sleeve, then flew over to the bed to check what Lightchaser had left her.

School Rule No. 801,

Evidence Structuring,

Forged Records,

Blazeshift.

...

After the Flame Festival break ended, Mistblade, Maple Syrup, and Fat Goose all noticed a change in Rita.

No—Rita had always worked hard. But after the holiday, she was borderline desperate.

She threw herself at every class—melee, ranged, healing, defense—trying to push into higher-ranking groups.

After school, she could always be found training in the bramble thickets near the treetop towers.

She had too many skills to practice: the ones she learned in SSS class, and new ones like Sprint, Another Me, and Blazeshift.

Another Me required her to separate from her own shadow and train it to fight.

Blazeshift let her vanish on the spot, reappearing from her own flame-based abilities.

If she mastered these, she wouldn’t be constrained by range anymore. She could ace the placement trials for the ranged combat course.

Mistblade, Maple Syrup, and Fat Goose couldn’t help but join her in the grind for a while.

They weren’t the only ones. Plenty of cubs started to feel the pressure just watching Rita.

But that collective panic only lasted a couple of weeks. Most kids eventually returned to their normal routines.

After all, they were only eleven. Life was just beginning. Most hadn’t even explored the full safe zones of Moonlight Marsh yet.

Still, a few stuck with the grind—but none of them matched Rita’s intensity.

It was Mistblade who described it best: "It’s like she’s being chased by a rabid dog."

She said it once during a skills class with GodDraw77, and the teacher had actually paused to ask, "What rabid dog is chasing you?"

Rita stuffed her left hand in her pocket, not meeting the teacher’s gaze. "Nobody. Just a joke."

The weird tension between Lightchaser and GodDraw77... and Lightchaser’s comment about "35 years without a new GodDraw77"... it was enough to make Rita suspicious.

She had gone to the library to look up Cinders.

Cinders had only won the Divine Game seven times—but still held the title of GodDraw77.

That meant four of those were from one year—the year she earned GodDraw77.

So outside of that championship run, she only had three titles across her entire school career.

It was hard to believe someone so average suddenly won everything in one go.

Rita wasn’t buying the miracle story.

She suspected Cinders had been in her final year—seventh grade—when she became GodDraw77, and the rest of her victories came from earlier tournaments.

To confirm her theory, Rita began digging through Moonlight Marsh’s archived records and tournament photos from previous Divine Games.