Barista took one last look at the shimmering barrier over the stairwell before turning away, her expression tinged with regret. The rabbit followed behind, speaking quickly as if trying to justify itself. "Relax. Foolishness is on the third floor." "Really? Then what’s the difference between that and sending her home? BS-Rita gets to live the good life again." "Do you have some kind of problem with the two of us?" "I only trust Captain now." "...That’s worse than trusting Foolishness. You do realize Captain’s been keeping an eye on BS-Rita for just as long as we have, right?" "Of course I do. But it’s not the same." Barista stopped walking. Ignoring Divine Game’s system prompts urging her onward, she turned back toward the rabbit and said solemnly, "When you or Foolishness like a player, you like playing with her—teasing her, testing her, challenging her. You don’t really care if she wins or loses. You nurture her. You try to understand her thoughts and desires. But Captain... Captain thinks caring about that sort of thing before the world itself shatters is meaningless." "...Right. I almost forgot how insane Captain can be sometimes." "Even though we’re technically on the same side," Barista said quietly, "I’ll admit it: being liked by Captain is a kind of misfortune." The rabbit’s ears twitched. "So you remember now? How he made Lania Kaia Maple Syrup fail? She was so close—she almost saved the Forest Sea. But in Captain’s eyes, only ships that have weathered a storm deserve to sail the ocean. Only by surviving a broken world can a player’s true nature be revealed. "The best form of training, to him, is letting a player watch her world collapse and then rebuild it herself. "You and I both know the fall of BlueStar was the key to the rebirth of the Forest Sea. And the final fragment of that sea still lies within BlueStar." When Barista mentioned Lania Kaia Maple Syrup, Deceitful Bloom understood instantly. The shattering of BlueStar and the reconstruction of the Forest Sea weren’t just the final steps of Captain’s plan for Maple Syrup—they also marked the beginning of his plans for BS-Rita. Under the rabbit’s watchful gaze, Barista said softly, almost like she was stating a truth she hated to acknowledge, "He won’t let her win the wager. He’ll never let her obtain GodDraw77." Was Moonlight Marsh’s Rita famous in Arisentna? Yes—her reputation and accomplishments were among the highest in the entire game. But as long as GodDraw77 remained sealed, the game wouldn’t end. And the longer the timeline stretched, the more certain it became that BS-Rita, who didn’t crave fame or power, would eventually fade from the spotlight, disappearing from public view just as Lightchaser once had. Which meant the champion of this Divine Game would never be her. The third floor was much better than the second—at least there wasn’t a furious rabbit chasing her to the ends of the earth. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Whenever she lingered somewhere for even a few extra seconds, no matter how carefully she hid, several Librarians always seemed to drift subtly in her direction. It wasn’t a big problem. The Orchid Mantis hopped cheerfully from shelf to shelf like a grasshopper, hunting for numbers. But a new issue quickly appeared: almost all the obvious numbers had already been taken. Now, every student in the library was clutching a book, scanning for hidden digits between the lines. At the same time, every single one of them was secretly watching everyone else. The solution was obvious—if you wanted more numbers, you had to take them from other players. The "Temp Worker" whip from the vending machine was one option. But what about killing another player—would that grant all their numbers? The Orchid Mantis perched quietly in the corner of a half-collapsed shelf, a thick book open in front of her. She carefully turned each page with her delicate forelegs, terrified of tearing anything. Suddenly, she vanished. The latest_epɪ_sodes are on_the 𝔫𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩⟡𝘧𝙞𝙧𝙚⟡𝘯𝘦𝘵 A blade of energy sliced through the space where she’d just been. The attacker darted around the shelf to continue their assault, determined not to lose sight of her. Scenes were playing out all over the library’s many floors. Silent battles had begun. Everyone fought while trying not to alert the Librarians, careful not to destroy any part of the library. It was a brutal test of control and finesse. This wasn’t like before, when she’d been leading a pack of tagalongs through the aisles just to mess around. This was her first real fight since returning to Arisentna. Her mantis forelegs clashed with her opponent’s weapon dozens of times in the span of seconds, each impact ringing in metallic bursts that overlapped like rapid percussion. Rita grinned. "What’s this supposed to mean?" Her opponent, now shrunk down to half a meter tall, smiled faintly back. "Didn’t you say once that even if we killed each other in solo or fun matches, it wouldn’t affect our friendship?" Rita recognized her instantly. The Orchid Mantis sprang onto the shaft of a long spear, sprinting up along its length. The weapon twisted sharply, its wielder spinning and sweeping it around with practiced precision, forcing Rita to leap aside and counter in kind. The clash drew the Librarians’ attention, but none stepped in to stop it. Instead, both fighters silently shifted their battlefield, bounding across the debris of fallen shelves as they traded blow after blow. Was Maple Syrup after her divine relic, or after her numbers? Rita couldn’t tell. Something about Maple Syrup felt different. She had sensed it the moment they reunited at Twilight Library—a faint unfamiliarity. But after three years apart, that was only natural. Maple Syrup had gone through things Rita couldn’t imagine. Yet here, inside the game, Maple Syrup felt like a completely different person—like she’d taken off a mask and revealed her true face. This version of Maple Syrup was terrifying. Her features were still soft, almost childlike, but the pressure she radiated rivaled that of Lightchaser herself. After just a few minutes of trading blows, Rita came to a harsh conclusion: Maple Syrup was stronger. Not because of her technique. Not because she had better skills. Not even because of raw stats. The one thing Lightchaser had always hammered into her. On that little boat drifting along the River of Time, Lightchaser had sparred with her for at least three hours every single afternoon. "With enough combat experience," she’d said, "even an idiot can become a master." A hundred duels weren’t enough. A thousand. Ten thousand. A hundred thousand. If you fought enough, your instincts became your armor, your reflexes your wisdom. Maple Syrup felt exactly like Lightchaser—she seemed to know every move Rita was about to make, every feint, every combination of skills, just from a glance. Meanwhile, Rita still had to read Maple Syrup’s body language, her eye movements, the shifting tension in her muscles. Maple Syrup was effortless, fluid. Even when Rita suddenly yanked a book from a shelf to use as a shield, Maple Syrup reacted instantly, withdrawing her spear mid-swing to avoid damaging it. Rita couldn’t do the same. When she nearly failed to pull back and struck a book Maple Syrup had flicked toward her, she froze, her rhythm breaking. From that moment, her attacks grew hesitant. Three years ago, Maple Syrup had never been this strong. Even if she had spent every waking second since then fighting and training, she couldn’t possibly have advanced this far. Rita retreated quickly, then summoned her lantern and slipped into the shadow world. Maple Syrup stood where she was, gaze lowered to the spot where the Orchid Mantis had vanished. She seemed lost in thought. Then, with a subtle tilt of her head, she dodged a whip strike from a passing Librarian and disappeared into the air without a sound.