CHAPTER 803: 803: DIVINE GAME - CARD SWAP 52

Mistblade: "Aaaaaaah!"

Maple Syrup: "Aaaaaaah!"

Fat Goose: "Aaaaaaah!"

Mistblade: "Look! That’s my best friend!"

Maple Syrup: "We live in the same treetop tower!"

Fat Goose: "We eat together and go to school every day!"

The three of them locked eyes, fists clenched, screaming together. Mistblade, stuck in the middle, kept whipping her head back and forth—shouting at Maple Syrup on her left, then at Fat Goose on her right—so busy she looked like she might sprain her neck.

The row of spectators who had probably turned from Moonlight Marsh fans to haters were now all staring at the screen.

Fat Goose slapped the blood elf next to him several times. "See that?! Did you see that?! Moonlight Marsh!"

The blood elf gave him an icy look, then glanced down at the freshly polished leather armor he’d worn today. "Do you want to keep that hand?"

Fat Goose tucked his paws close to his chest, edging toward Mistblade for safety—only to get smacked back in place by her tail.

The black cat asked, "Moonlight Marsh is like this now? Students can just take out their classmates?"

Fat Goose frowned. "What’s wrong with that?! Those two started it."

Maple Syrup nodded. "Exactly!"

The black cat rolled his eyes. "I didn’t say she was wrong."

The minotaur smiled. "She wasn’t wrong. In fact... she did a fine job."

A swift counter, a merciless kill, not even leaving her opponents the chance to exit voluntarily—and she didn’t hesitate just because they were from the same school.

All of it was playing out on the largest screen.

She’d only been in the top hundred broadcast for less than ten minutes, but the cheers and applause she was getting were almost as loud as those for Wind Rush, who had fought her way up from the start.

"Nice work, Phoenix!!"

The shout came from a burly man in the row ahead, his hands raised high.

Mistblade, Maple Syrup, Fat Goose: "?"

At the top of the river, GodDraw77 rested her chin in her palm and said to Wail, "That kid shows up in the SSS class every day. I spend at least ten days a month teaching her—more than her own mentor. Who was her mentor again? Feels like they’re barely involved. I should just be her mentor instead."

Wail’s face wrinkled into a scowl. "...Keep your voice down. I’m not deaf."

...

Game timer: 5 minutes 29 seconds.

Rita moved through the underground tunnels, the sound of alarms and city-wide broadcasts echoing above her.

"A criminal disguised as a Cubone has robbed the bank vault, stealing over one hundred thousand crystals! Information leading to their capture will earn ten thousand Alliance Crystals. Capturing the criminal alive will earn fifty thousand Alliance Crystals and formal citizenship."

Formal citizenship?

Rita crouched in the shadows, toying with the clock she’d just obtained, Time is Tight—an interesting trinket.

The solo, fun, and team events in past years had always been closely linked. The solo and team competitions shared the same map and setting, while the fun event was a little different—but still contained elements tied to the other two.

That citizenship might make the solo competition easier.

Was it worth going for?

Or, to put it another way—did she want the solo championship this year?

There were nine minutes left. She could hide until the end. As long as she wasn’t mobbed by over 250 players at once, her snowman in hand meant the fun event’s championship was almost guaranteed.

But what if one hundred thousand crystals wasn’t enough?

A plan was already forming in her head to grab both the citizenship and more crystals—but it was dangerous. One mistake, and she could lose everything, including the fun event win.

She heard breathing at the far end of the sewer—someone had come looking for her.

Rita lifted her short sword. The glow from her wings lit up the blade and the faint reflection of herself etched along its surface.

Looking at her own shadow, she thought of Lightchaser.

There’s only a fine line between careful planning and overthinking.

She had once asked Lightchaser, "I think through every detail like you do. I weigh the chances of success and failure. So why do you call yourself careful and deliberate, but call me hesitant and overcautious?"

What had Lightchaser said?

"We both think about success and failure, but I focus on the first, and you only think about the second.

"If I see even one path to success out of a hundred, I take it and throw myself into reaching the end.

"You see one hundred paths, but if five of them end in failure, those are the only ones you remember.

"Even if you’re on the right path, you can’t stop thinking about the wrong ones.

"That’s the difference between us."

If this were Lightchaser, what would she do?

She wouldn’t settle for one hundred thousand crystals. She wouldn’t be satisfied with just the fun event title.

She was like a tireless climber—if she saw a foothold, she would climb, never looking back, no matter how sheer the cliff.

The short sword swung, knocking aside an arrow glowing green. Rita slammed her foot down and sprinted toward where the arrow had come from.

The gap between them narrowed, but the long-range specialist kept retreating.

In the narrow, damp tunnel, the chase continued.

Her opponent’s four primary attributes were all higher than hers, making it impossible to close the distance quickly.

Timer: 4 minutes 58 seconds.

They rounded a corner into a long, straight passage.

A volley of arrows flew. Rita’s short sword blurred as she deflected them, the strikes ringing out like clashing steel.

The moment the last arrow dropped and her view was clear—

Rita spoke. "Here’s a fun event championship for you."

\[Moment of Reversal]!

Pure adrenaline.

Their wealth values swapped.

On the great river, the largest screen shattered, and a new one shot forward from the far end, growing rapidly.

The two players on screen were the same—but the name above had changed.

[Golden Hills — Voss]

...

The instant Rita traded her wealth with another player, the riverbanks went silent. Not just here—viewers around the world watching the broadcast stopped making a sound.

Then came the loudest uproar of the entire event so far.

Supporters of Moonlight Marsh were screaming that Rita had lost her mind.

Those who didn’t support Moonlight Marsh were laughing so hard they could barely breathe.

Mistblade, Maple Syrup, and Fat Goose huddled together again, shrinking into themselves.

The black cat stood on its seat, yowling, "What is she doing?! What is this?! Is she half-asleep?!"

The blood elf drew her long blade and stabbed it into the stone at the trio’s feet. "She’s not planning to transfer to Golden Hills, is she?"

The minotaur spoke gravely. "Has she told you about any such plans?"

At this rate, they were about to start helping Rita pick her major at Golden Hills.

All three shook their heads in unison. "We don’t know her that well."

"...She’s your best friend," the minotaur said flatly.

"...," Mistblade replied.

"You live in the same treetop tower," the black cat added.

"...," Maple Syrup muttered.

"You eat and go to school together every day," the blood elf said.

"...," Fat Goose answered.

Help, times three.

The burly man in the row ahead turned around, giving them a long, very strange look.