CHAPTER 854: 854: DIVINE GAME-CARD SWAP103

The two-minute gap between strikes was more than enough for Rita’s squad to reach the red pillar.

But the pillar was already surrounded layer upon layer by ships. More than a hundred were still alive, and every one of them had gathered here.

All of them faced Ship 7, just waiting for them to cross into the ten-meter attack radius before unleashing everything they had.

Rita’s group stopped fifteen meters out, holding position. They were waiting for the cue.

Waiting for it to knock them straight into the swarm.

Autumn Deer steered Ship 1’s plank closer, ready to snatch their map the moment Ship 7 went under.

Ship 16, which had brushed past them not long ago, also swung in. Mojie stood ready on deck, \[Low-Risk Investment] glowing in his hands.

From above, the sea looked exactly like a billiards table at break. Dozens of colored balls clumped together at the center, three cue-balls scattered around them.

The only sounds were the roar of waterfalls, the rush of waves, and the endless chorus of skills.

Lightning chains crackled across the surface. Rita and the others fixed their eyes on the silhouette at the falls.

The squad closed ranks around the cockpit, walling off the helm and the No. 7 ball.

That enormous, indistinct cloud-shadow stopped moving, cue lowered, body leaning in.

By logic, Ship 1 should be the target now. Protect Ship 7. But they weren’t players, and no one could know how this striker thought.

Deep down, Rita felt it—they were like the demons in Demon City.

They had their own whims.

If the striker happened to hate them, all the strategy in the world wouldn’t matter. They had to prepare for the worst.

This time, it wasn’t just Rita and Fat Goose holding the line. All five followed the plan, staggering their defenses every two seconds, refusing to leave even a heartbeat’s gap.

Ten seconds.

Twenty.

Thirty...

The cue stayed leveled at their ship, unmoving.

Rita felt like a sniper’s sights were locked on her.

While the aim held them frozen, Ships 1 and 16 harassed them constantly.

Even with \[Thunder God’s Blessing] still up, nullifying casting bans like \[Early Retirement], there were too many ways to slip past it.

Blinding volleys that blocked sight, sudden interrupts mid-cast, bombardments targeting the hull.

At least their defense skills worked on both the cue and enemy attacks.

The seconds crawled by unbearably slow.

No mistakes allowed. They had made it this far, the only squad with a full map, closest to victory...

And still, disaster struck.

Frenzied Shark dropped a skill right into their zone—\[Time Warp].

Their perception of time shredded. Cooldowns and cast times twisted out of rhythm.

By the time their ship broke free of the distortion, the damage was already done.

The hull was splitting apart, durability plummeting.

Shards and planks spun past their eyes.

The ship pitched out of control, careening toward the clustered fleet.

Rita braced herself to freeze time when Motor suddenly shouted, "Don’t panic! Everyone up, follow me!"

An ultimate?

Rita and Maple Syrup grabbed a teammate each, hauling them skyward behind Motor.

Fat Goose was yanked by the hair until he latched onto Maple Syrup’s foot, howling. "Too much! Way too much!"

Maple Syrup snapped back, "Want to trade with Mistblade then?"

Fat Goose twisted around. Mistblade was dangling head-first from Rita’s grip, tail clenched in her hand, thrashing furiously. Her face burned red with anger. "I’m not playing anymore! I mean it!"

Rita chirped an airy "Mm," voice pitched high. "I don’t believe you. You’re just venting."

Fat Goose shut his mouth. Rita could be infuriating beyond words.

Then the sea surged. A great wave arced upward.

Rita glanced down. It was Motor—Motor in drift form, skimming the ocean, his wake throwing the wave sky-high.

The No. 7 water orb was slotted neatly in his dashboard, lightning chains linking it to the others, glowing like a core wrapped in electric seals.

With just a few flashes and a drumbeat track, it could’ve been a commercial. Motor’s market value would’ve spiked.

Fat Goose pointed wildly from Motor to Ship 1. "We’ve won!"

Motor honked twice. "Cool enough for you?!"

\[Motor]: Hurry! Get down now! I couldn’t hold. I forced the fusion—five minutes max! After that, durability hits zero again!

Rita immediately set Mistblade down in the prime seat, her fur bristling in all directions. "Mistblade, after you."

Fat Goose tumbled down behind her, dumped by Maple Syrup. Motor roared forward, dodging spells in smooth arcs. True autopilot.

Rita silently thanked whatever power gave her wings after crossing over. Without them, she’d be squatting on the dash by now.

Mistblade took several deep breaths, then shifted to make room for Fat Goose. This wasn’t the time for sulking. Skills were pouring down like rain.

Rita and Maple Syrup locked eyes. No words. Just clarity.

They dropped lower, flanking Motor on both sides, each seizing a handle. "Hold tight," Rita ordered.

"Take the sky route!"

Together, they heaved, and Motor soared upward.

Behind them, Autumn Deer shrieked. "That’s not how you play this game!!!"

And she was right. It was against the rules.

The instant the fused cockpit lifted off the sea, a warning blared.

\[Warning, violation. ■■ side granted special strike rights]

By the time the voice faded, a dark cloud cue was already braced against the water, aimed squarely at them.

Their health and mana began to drain at one percent per second—but Rita’s pumpkin hat nullified it.

She and Maple Syrup shared another look, both lifting their hands at once.

No hesitation. Together, they hurled their three teammates forward.

Motor, carrying Moonfox and Candlebeast, spun through the air toward the red pillar. Rita’s dragon and Maple Syrup’s spear spiraled around them, shields of lightning and flame warding off the rain of spells.

And in that same instant, Rita and Maple Syrup themselves followed, streaking into the blaze.

Hundreds of skills chased them. The pillar blazed with ships and apprentices circling it in waves. Inside, more than twenty waited for them to fall straight in.

By now, almost every surviving ship had clashed with theirs. Attack permissions overlapped everywhere.

Within the pillar, Rita’s dagger—the one blessed with \[Thunder God’s Blessing]—kept lashing out arcs of lightning, frying the weaklings who had tried to camp inside.

\[Rita]: Straight down. Follow the pillar to the seabed. I still have five bubbles left.

\[Mistblade]: I’m telling Lightchaser. Your tail’s going on the wall.