Rita had no idea what traits the other rare fish had, but as for her? She couldn’t be happier with Blue-striped Bluru’s. She swam toward the harbor, occasionally leaping from the water the same way the Bluru itself once had. When she was less than two kilometers from shore, she stopped. From here, she could clearly see the wooden piers lined with all manner of beings. They held fishing rods, tackle beside them, chatting or sorting their gear instead of casting lines. Her eyes landed at once on White Bear and the black-robed Death Eater. Not only the eight citizens of Old Town were here—there were animals, humanoids, all sorts. Rita sank lower, fading into the blue. Other contestants had arrived as well. But no one attacked. Everyone spread out, biding their time. It wasn’t the moment yet. The problem was communication. Every student knew Blue-striped Bluru was Moonlight Marsh Rita, but she couldn’t tell who was who among the others. Tanuki, who had drawn the Ghost Fish, and Quex with her Jewel Zebra Fish, faced the same dilemma. Maybe when she reclaimed Evidence Sorting she could tell them apart. The water was still clear. When she’d been fishing, she could never see the fish beneath unless they came right to the surface. She wondered if these mysterious anglers had the same limitation. As a fish herself, the rule was similar: close to the surface, she could glimpse the anglers above, though their voices were muffled. White Bear was a safe bet. She swam cautiously, poking her head halfway out of the water, blowing bubbles to listen in on him and the pale pink mantis beside him. Deceitful Bloom: "..." Both stared down at the Blue-striped Bluru floating sideways like a corpse. Deceitful Bloom eventually looked away and rummaged in the bait box for Rita’s lure. Foolishness kept staring at her fish head. Then he asked, with painful sincerity, "Are we really not allowed to use fish hammers or nets?" Deceitful Bloom: "Calm down. We can’t start fishing for another five minutes." Foolishness sighed, putting away his tiny fishing rod, and joined in digging through the bait. He pulled out three of Rita’s lures before noticing—she was gone. "Where’s the fish?" Deceitful Bloom: "She heard you wanted to hammer her. What did you expect?" Not far off, Rita heard this and turned back to give White Bear an approving nod, eyes shining with admiration. Deceitful Bloom: "..." He turned to Foolishness. "So we really can’t use hammers or nets?" There were so many anglers here—at least five hundred. Already, dozens of small boats had stirred, some clearly preparing to head out to sea. Rita circled the harbor. As the start neared, she chose one angler at random and settled nearby. Her main worry: could others see her skills and items through the lures? If they could, it would be a nightmare. Skills were one thing—but her divine relics? Those were her golden cheats, the treasures she whispered bedtime stories to every night. She didn’t want anyone knowing. Not even Lightchaser knew what they really were. The blast of a ship’s horn echoed. Lines hit the water. The game had begun. The seabed erupted into chaos, fish darting in every direction. Rita swam up to the nearest lure. It was a smoked salmon slice with avocado, wrapped in a bubble. And it looked delicious. [Unknown ???] (Forbidden to Eat) Not hers. She couldn’t see its info and couldn’t touch it. So the game preserved some privacy. Unless... probe-type skills could pierce it? Not enough to relax her. She darted on, weaving through the crowd, scanning lure after lure until— [Moonlight Marsh Schoolbag] She froze, heart tightening. The bubble contained a pastry. Sweetness radiated through the water, unmistakably the work of a master chef. Lightchaser’s spending habits flashed in her mind. The woman might be hopeless at paying debts, but she was meticulous about her own comfort. Her creed: "Money you don’t spend fast enough will find another way to leave you." It had rubbed off on Rita. Of the money she made trading divine talents, barely a third remained. The rest went into potions, pigments, even buying skills off classmates. That’s how she’d "gone bad." And yet even Lightchaser’s high-end orders couldn’t rival the beauty of this bubble. Through the shifting surface, Rita spotted the angler holding the rod: the barista with black wavy hair from Old Town, one hand on the rod, the other cradling coffee. Rita nudged the bubble. The hook didn’t budge. The barista kept sipping her drink, unhurried. Circling carefully, Rita saw the hook was set at an awkward angle. She puckered her mouth, inching the bubble away without touching the hook. A warning roared in her head. She flipped sideways just as the hook sliced past her cheek and whipped upward. The barista clicked her tongue. "Tch." Gods and demons had to accept restrictions if they wanted to play in the Divine Game alongside mortals. Their attributes were scaled to match the average of the students. Their bait boxes were randomly assigned; no one could cherry-pick. They couldn’t use skills on the fish, and the students’ skills turned to lures, sealing away the gods’ powers as well. They had to reel up fish to unseal them one at a time. The rods were the same as those sold in the harbor shops. The only advantage was the ability to upgrade them after catching more fish. The single loophole? Rita’s Scratch Card. Because it was created by a contestant, rods drawn from it could be carried into the game. And gods and demons had ways of extending their duration. The barista muttered to the Drummer beside her, "Should’ve gone with you when you raided her stash." Drummer slid a parchment from under his robe, letting her glimpse it before tucking it away. Switching to divine tongue so the students wouldn’t understand, he whispered, "...Give me all your Rita lures, and I’ll scratch you another." The barista wrinkled her nose. "You’re so boring." Rita again. Was she cursed? Everyone who crossed paths with her turned obsessed. After a moment’s thought, the barista shook her head. "I want to catch her and show Deceitful Bloom and Foolishness. See their faces." Drummer: "..." And I’m the boring one?