Staring at the shut door, Rita grimly opened the pouch of coins in her hand and counted. Seeing her expression grow darker, Fat Goose scratched his head and tried to comfort her. "Maybe they had important business? Don’t be mad. Didn’t they at least give us money for candy?" Rita’s breathing came sharp and fast. "This is only two hundred gold. That pile on the desk was mine. At least three thousand! It’s gone..." Her gaze turned to Mistblade. Of everyone here, Mistblade understood best. Mistblade thought of Lightchaser in that room. Gold piled in the same space as Lightchaser—it wasn’t hard to imagine the outcome. She patted Rita’s shoulder gently. "Nothing you can do... You can’t win that fight." But something flickered in Rita’s eyes. The anger drained, replaced by realization. To speed up her Scratch Card crafting, both Lightchaser and GodDraw77 had dumped cooldown-reduction skills, trinkets, and oddities onto her. Now, she could make a new card every three seconds. She touched the odd assortment of items perched in her hair and grinned. "Actually, I came out ahead." Then her eyes darted from one teammate to the next, her grin stretching wider. As they walked, she pulled out coins, crafted four Scratch Cards in quick succession, and handed them out. "Here. Play with these." The first went straight to Maple Syrup, who had looked the most curious earlier. "Here, you can pull world-class weapons. Lightchaser and Teacher GodDraw77 themselves hadn’t seen this before." She wasn’t worried they’d draw something game-breaking. The two legendary champions had scraped cards all night, thousands each. At best, they’d produced a dozen Ancient-tier weapons, none lasting longer than 24 hours. And with the next match starting in about a day, even those wouldn’t last long enough to matter. War-tier? Even less chance of carrying over. Maple Syrup eagerly accepted, still holding the spent card Lightchaser had ripped from her hands when they were thrown out. She slipped a coin into the parchment’s circle, fished a fallen feather from her bag, and scratched as they walked. Mistblade, Fat Goose, and Motor couldn’t resist either. Rita herself had already scraped several last night, but the thrill was gone. Maybe because she didn’t actually need a weapon right now—or maybe because after spending all night mass-producing cards for her teachers, she was burned out. Before they’d even cleared the windmill house grounds, everyone’s cards were done. Whether by beginner’s luck or sheer fortune, every one of them hit. "I got Epic! Stats are crazy... but it only lasts one day." "Mine’s Epic too! Twelve hours." "I pulled Legendary. Lasts three days. You?" All eyes swiveled to Maple Syrup, who stood frozen, staring at the long spear she had just drawn. Dark blue and gold entwined across its length, a weapon that looked like pure art. Her voice trembled. "Ancient." The others crowded close immediately. "How long?" Cold sweat pricked Rita’s forehead. For a second she thought she’d doomed herself. Overconfident—Lightchaser and GodDraw77 had made it look impossible, but Maple Syrup had nailed it first try. Thank the stars it was only twenty-four hours. She’d been entertaining ideas of selling Scratch Cards to other apprentices, making a killing. But now? Best to shelve that. There’d be time to profit later. Better to wait until after the Divine Game ended. The spear was called \[Awakening of the World]. Each of them took turns marveling at it, though only Maple Syrup could activate its attached skills. It was, without question, a weapon that could tilt a match. Maple Syrup cradled it for the entire walk, hugging it like a newborn, refusing even to stash it in her bag. On their way to Rock Locust, they swore again and again: if they ran into students from other schools, no matter how aggravating, no fighting. Rita had even laughed, "Dalaran’s huge. What are the odds we bump into people we actually have beef with?" The words had barely left her mouth when she stepped through the door of Rock Locust Candy Shop. She turned, only for her view to be filled by the deep-blue vest stretched across someone’s broad back. The vested figure turned slowly, looking down on her. Unlike Mojie, who slung his golden chain diagonally across his bare torso, Pomango wore the Deep Sea Mine school’s chain at her waist, looping around her exposed midriff and abs. And her chain wasn’t gold. It was pure white—Deep Sea Mine’s unique way of categorizing divine gifts by innate talent. White meant imagination and creativity. Mojie’s gold meant craftsmanship and construction. Rita tilted her head up, taking in Pomango’s height. She was a half-head taller now. Last Divine Game they’d been eye to eye. What on earth had she been eating? Who hit one-seventy at fourteen? She had to ask Lightchaser for the secret. Elves weren’t supposed to grow that tall either—her teacher must be hiding something. Pomango swept her gaze across the group, pausing briefly on the Ancient-tier spear in Maple Syrup’s arms. Mainly because no one had ever carried a weapon like it was an infant before. Passersby threw her looks of pure disdain. Her eyes came back to Rita. Her tone dripped mockery. "Heard you blew up the Burrowbug Tavern yesterday?" Mojie strolled up, a bag of candy in hand. "And sat outside like little kids waiting for your teacher to pick you up." Rita: "We paid 13 million in damages." Mistblade: "The academy covered it." Fat Goose: "Unless you’re scared." Motor: "We can throw down right here." Maple Syrup: "Pretty sure Rock Locust’s owner would love that. Perfect excuse to clear out his shelves." Behind the counter, the rock locust himself gave a solemn nod. He knew exactly how much Old Bic had raked in yesterday. He’d lost sleep from sheer jealousy. Mojie and Pomango both fell silent, faces twisted, glaring at the Moonlight Marsh squad. After a long beat, they turned and left without a word. But the group could still hear them talking outside. ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ novｅlfire.net Mojie: "Do they have to talk like that? So infuriating." Pomango: "If we had that kind of chemistry, our squad wouldn’t have lost." Mojie: "You really think it’s on us? Misyu and Vafan turned on each other, what were we supposed to do? If we want to play next year, we need new teammates." Pomango: "What about Mute?" Mojie: "She’s no better. All she does is clap from the sidelines, wishing one of them would die so she can turn the corpse into an undead pet and fix our problem that way."