CHAPTER 838: 838: DIVINE GAME – CARD SWAP 87

What a terrifying skill.

At Rita’s level, her average damage was in the hundreds, with criticals pushing into the thousands. Against stronger opponents, sometimes only double digits. But Lightchaser? In a fight against someone of equal level, her damage rarely dipped below five digits.

And yet with Wail’s [Lucky Number]—any attack that happened to contain that digit would bounce back double.

Not just damage values, either. The description said "anything connected to the Lucky Number." Which meant attack counts could qualify too. If Wail rolled a 1, then the 1st strike, the 10th through 19th, maybe even the 100th—any of those could reflect.

For assassin-type players with extremely high attack speed, it was pure nightmare fuel. Even Lightchaser, using a longsword now, couldn’t slow down her ingrained assassin tempo.

The stronger the opponent, the more likely they were to hit that cursed number.

No wonder Lightchaser had gotten angrier with every strike.

The skill was shameless. It was exactly the kind of ability Rita dreamed about.

She immediately used [Crime Simulation] to copy [Lucky Number].

Heart racing, she pulled up her skill menu, searching for the newly copied skill. The result would determine how she could use the snowman + Crime Simulation combo in the future.

Unfortunately, just like what she’d seen with Pomango, the copied skill was bound to Crime Simulation itself.

In other words, the only way to use [Lucky Number] was through her snowmen.

[Summer Snowman]’s description was clear: "Before the snowman disappears, the copied skill can be cast once without cost or cooldown." Once the snowman vanished, so would Crime Simulation and Lucky Number.

The only way to keep it alive was to use her second snowman’s Crime Simulation to copy Lucky Number again right before the first ran out.

Handled correctly, Lucky Number could, in effect, become hers.

Of course, that meant she couldn’t store [Low-Risk Investment] in the second snowman.

Still, that was manageable. Both skills were situational. She could destroy the second snowman and craft a new one if she needed to swap.

And Lucky Number had three charges. She could save the last one until she was ready to chain it forward.

Worst case, she could always go back to Wail and pay for another demonstration. Wail surely wouldn’t refuse.

A skill that could make Lightchaser stumble? Rita was already grinning.

And Lucky Number wasn’t the only prize. When Wail stole her gold back, it triggered [The Right to Interpret], which let Rita counter. That in turn set off [Send Me the Link], and now Wail’s skill [Let’s Pretend That Didn’t Happen] was sitting neatly in her cart, along with the binding and silence spells Wail had just used.

Jackpot.

Hanging beside her apprentice, Lightchaser quietly opened the party chat.

[Lightchaser]: How much did you get this time?

[Rita]: 3.21 million! Almost lost it, though.

[Rita]: What do we do? Should we run for it?

[Lightchaser]: You planning to drop school? Skip Divine Game?

[Rita]: We could just wander! You can recommend me for Divine Game when it comes around!

Lightchaser: ... If she did that, Wail wouldn’t be the only one hunting them. They’d have Mistblade’s principal on their tails too.

From the chimney, Wail’s cold voice cut through the air. "Last chance. Hand it back."

With that, she lifted the silence curse from them both.

Rita looked at her teacher, full of reckless fire. "Charge! Teacher, sixty-forty split—you get sixty!"

Lightchaser: ...

Minutes later, Rita was bruised all over again, trailing beside Lightchaser down the street. They were headed to buy holy fire for tomorrow’s Flame Festival.

Rita tugged the collar of her uniform to cover her face. She tugged Lightchaser’s cloak and whispered, "Teacher, do you have any spare masks? Lend me one?"

Lightchaser, already wearing her own, yanked her cloak away with a black look.

Rita: ... Still mad? Tch.

In the end, the gold went back.

But not without some compensation. Thanks to Lightchaser’s negotiations, the massive Chernor Worm bill from her hiatus was officially wiped clean.

...

After the Flame Festival, Rita had five new bells added to her arsenal—dangling from her three daggers and both boots.

And the punishments escalated. With the original three, she now had eight in total. If more than four rang at once, one of her five senses would shut down. Lose smell or taste? Manageable. But if sight, hearing, or touch were sealed, she was in trouble.

In the first week, she only made it into SSS-class once. Today she had her worst showing yet—every bell rang.

Her vision and touch were sealed. All four main stats—Strength, Agility, Constitution, Intelligence—were cut in half. Her flight abilities gone. Under those conditions, she dropped to B-class.

When class ended, the hundred-plus students who’d ganged up on her during division quietly avoided her path.

Still blind, Rita sat on the dorm balcony being spoon-fed by Mistblade and Maple Syrup. She overheard the whispers: Was she really not going to retaliate?

Mistblade asked softly, "You okay?"

Maple Syrup slid her milk away and replaced it with juice. "If she were fragile, we wouldn’t have nearly been mobbed to death in the Divine Game stands because of her trash talk."

Mecha shuddered. "I got hit with Golden Hills’ garbage ninety-two times on the deck."

Fat Goose was busy eating, cheeks bulging with food. He nodded along anyway.

Rita shook her head. "I’m fine."

Mistblade didn’t press. She was the most sensitive to emotion in the squad and could tell Rita’s feelings weren’t entirely steady. But if her friend didn’t want to say, she wouldn’t pry.

Rita was unsettled—but not because of herself.

The whispers weren’t even that harsh. Same-school peers could only get so cruel. Those who’d piled on in the division matches were, if anything, now more afraid than proud—terrified of reprisal, terrified she might lose her temper.

Everyone knew the truth. Her failure came only from her cursed bells. It didn’t mean they were stronger than her.

Those voices couldn’t really hurt her.

But they made her think of Lightchaser.

If one stumble of hers caused such a stir, what about Lightchaser back then?

...

"Teacher, today I dropped into B-class during divisions.

"It feels like the end of the world—upperclassmen and freshies alike won’t stop talking about it.

"Funny, isn’t it? Every pause, every failure of the strong, sets off tidal waves in the world of the weak.

"I just want you to know, don’t worry about me.

"I’m not afraid. I’m enjoying it."

—Your student, Rita