That same line again. "The joy of fishing lies in patience and adventure." Rita’s fingertips brushed the words on the photo. She stared at it a moment longer, then pressed the photo back onto the board. For the next 24 hours, she wandered the city alone under the setting sun. She rummaged through old newspapers in a dusty warehouse, gazed across the harbor from the lighthouse at sea, leafed through the biographies of Fishing Masters in the bookshop. When time stop ended, Rita was already at the last fishing spot—the place where Blue-striped Bluru had been sighted eleven thousand three hundred and sixty-seven times. She stood at the edge of the wooden pier gripping [Sunset and Tsunami], the sun setting directly before her. Beside her stood a fisherman, the very one who had recorded this spot. He was still, staring at the sea as though waiting for something. Every pier was occupied by students. Some huddled in groups chatting, most still clutched their rods like Rita. Maple Syrup was frowning as she hooked a new mixture of bait. She had already changed recipes over a hundred times. Rumor said it was a formula passed down for centuries, Blue-striped Bluru’s favorite. Mistblade sat nearby with her rod. It was an Epic-tier rod, one she had only gotten to touch two hours ago after spending 200,000 fish bones at a tackle shop. She copied it the moment she held it. Fat Goose had already given up. He lay in the middle of the pier with his hands behind his head. Orange White had just stepped over his stomach. He hadn’t recovered yet. He rolled to his side, watching those who still gripped their rods. He could tell the difference. Some only looked like they hadn’t given up—all it took was holding the rod. Some truly hadn’t given up. They had done their best and only lacked luck or a miracle. People like Maple Syrup and Mistblade. But some... some felt like blades drawn and held, waiting for the one decisive strike. He looked to Rita at the far end of the pier. The sun was already dipping into the sea. From this angle, she was standing in the sunset itself. In the fiery clouds above, faint red numbers appeared. A countdown. 00:07:21. Only seven minutes left. And she still hadn’t given up. A nearly transparent pale-blue fish appeared ahead, its body flowing with phosphorescence. It swam directly toward the setting sun. "Blue-striped Bluru!" "Blue-striped Bluru appeared!" "Quick—Blue-striped Bluru!" The sound of waves rose. A deep-blue helm surfaced before Rita. "My bait is Blue-striped Bluru’s favorite bait!" As the words left her mouth, she cast her rod again. The hook landed precisely in front of Blue-striped Bluru. Twisting all creatures’ cognition meant twisting Blue-striped Bluru’s too. But to her horror, the fish never even glanced at the bait. It swayed its body lightly and swam past, ignoring it completely, continuing toward the sunset. Rita was the fastest to act—but not the only one still chasing. Quex. Tanuki. Crab. NightFury. Every student who still craved the championship lunged at once. The sea where Blue-striped Bluru swam was torn up like ice lifted from a tray. But an invisible hand immediately reached into that tray, trying to seize the fish and seawater both. Quex and Tanuki had struck. More skills were on their way. Students could not attack each other. Rita could only watch. She couldn’t use [There’s a Cat Here] to interrupt them. But then, a twist. Blue-striped Bluru slipped through every skill unharmed, diving back into the sea. None of their skills worked? Blue-striped Bluru could only be caught the old-fashioned way? Rita gripped her rod and flew over, hovering directly above it, casting again and again, always placing the bait in its path. Flying students swarmed like locusts, half the sky darkened by their wings. They too crowded around the fish, casting lines, flying alongside it, trying to force bait into its path. Blue-striped Bluru swam past them all. Again and again. No skill could touch it. Four minutes... Google seaʀᴄh N0v3l.Fiɾe.net Only a handful of students still chased it across the waves. It was madness. Anyone could see Blue-striped Bluru refused bait. Sometimes, knowing something is hopeless yet trying over and over doesn’t inspire anyone. It only makes you look foolish. Even Maple Syrup and Mistblade stopped. It looked pathetic, like a child bawling when its favorite toy was snatched away. Powerless. Pitiful. Laughable. Only Rita did not stop. The black brim of her hat whipped in the sea wind, her firelit wings flickering in the twilight. She chased the fish relentlessly, casting over and over. In the dim light no one could see if her eyes held pleading. Or tears. Maple Syrup whispered, unable to help herself. "Enough... it’s too late..." But her voice was soft as wind, drowned by the sea. The girl was too serious. So serious that telling her to stop felt like an insult. When the countdown was in its final seconds, Rita finally stilled. Breath ragged, her trembling right hand fell slack. The long rod dipped, tip brushing the surface, rippling the water. She was the last to stop. And the closest. She watched, eyes wide, as Blue-striped Bluru slipped away, swimming toward the sunset. Ahead of her, the fish swam on without looking back. Behind her, students hovered in the sky. The closer to the shore, the thicker the crowd. From above, they fanned outward like a folding fan. They were watching Blue-striped Bluru. They were also watching the one student who never gave up until the very end. The warm ocean wind carried the taste of broken dreams. This year, too, there would be no GodDraw77. GodDraw77 leaned her cheek on her hand, gazing at the scene like a painting. Behind her, sighs of regret. The principals murmured about how this year too, GodDraw77 hadn’t appeared. Wail’s voice was soft. "There’s still a chance." GodDraw77’s answer was softer still. "Mm. Forty-eight seconds." Beside Wail, Wind Whale spoke for the first time. "Yes." Only GodDraw77 knew when the game would truly end. On the other side of the stands. Blood Elf blinked hard, forcing away the heat in her eyes. "It’s just a fish, really. She tried her best. What else could she do if her skills don’t fit?" Black Cat scratched his ear with a paw. "Two minutes ago you called her a brat throwing a tantrum who couldn’t handle failure." Blood Elf’s lips pressed thin. "...I take it back. I’m the brat. If Lightchaser hasn’t left, if she saw this moment, she’d forgive her student for not winning." Black Cat sighed. "...Yeah." A black-haired dwarf in the front row turned back at them, his eyes filled with confusion, disdain, and more than a little exasperation.