The black cat said, "Back in your day, didn’t you and Ash Cinders also awaken a School Rule under the same kind of circumstances? You two got ganged up on by everyone in the arena..." The blood elf jumped in. "I still don’t get how anyone can awaken a School Rule in the Divine Game. I always thought you and Ash Cinders picked them up while you were getting into trouble together back at Moonlight Marsh." Lightchaser, watching the screen where her student’s silhouette had already vanished from sight, for once spoke patiently. "Maybe it’s because our existence made Moonlight Marsh into every student’s dream. Whatever we said became accepted as Moonlight Marsh tradition. Every tournament ended with a duel between me and Ash Cinders. The champion always came from Moonlight Marsh. Wouldn’t any soulfire tremble with pride for that?" The black cat nodded slowly. "Then it looks like she’s not going to awaken any School Rule this time." Lightchaser glanced at the cat, surprised. The cat continued, "I know she really loves Moonlight Marsh. Those Scratch Cards she makes—they’re filled with Moonlight Marsh nostalgia. The early ones that leaked years ago are selling for insane prices now among alumni. But... the thing that stirs her soulfire probably isn’t Moonlight Marsh." Lightchaser reflexively asked, "If it’s not Moonlight Marsh, then what—" The rıghtful source is 𝗻𝗼𝘷𝗲𝗹•𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮•𝕟𝕖𝕥 Before she could finish, the massive central screen erupted with light. That tiny Orchid Mantis flared with a surge of blue energy, threads of moonlit mana weaving through the air until they formed a luminous crown. [Congratulations, player ■■Rita has awakened SSS-tier skill—Lightchaser Moment!] [Lightchaser Moment] (SSS): "Your name has been engraved so deeply into a fragment of time that the world itself remembers it as the Lightchaser Moment. Then why shouldn’t I, the one in Arisentna, have a Lightchaser Moment of my own?" Summon a Lightchaser Sprite to fight by your side. She inherits 50% of your stats and mirrors your current weapon. Each summoning lasts 12 hours. Consumes 3 attribute points. Cooldown: 3 natural days. (Note: if the Lightchaser Sprite is in a bad mood, she may leave, but she will never harm you.) She had done it—awakened a new skill right at the breaking point. Yet she didn’t use it. Perhaps it was because, as she cut down those swarming students, her thoughts drifted. She wondered if Lightchaser herself, all those years ago, had felt the same when she awakened hers. The moonlit crown dissolved. Hovering in its place was a tiny Lightchaser, no larger than her palm. The sprite looked down at the battered Orchid Mantis with mild disapproval, as if to say, How could you look this pathetic? Are these weaklings really giving you trouble? Rita looked up at her and said quietly, "I don’t need your help. I just want you to be here." The miniature Lightchaser flew a little higher and stopped, watching her in silence. Her life in Arisentna had always carried Lightchaser’s shadow. But this edge-of-the-cliff moment—the brink between victory and collapse—belonged to her alone. She smiled faintly. If GodDraw77 knew what she was thinking, she’d probably laugh and say, "How very Lightchaser of you." All her timed skills were frozen, but she still had what Lightchaser had taught her—combat techniques that required no cooldown. "The skills that never cool down as long as a player’s fighting spirit burns." They weren’t really skills, but combat mastery refined until even the system recognized it as such. No mana cost. No cooldown. As long as she refused to surrender, she could keep swinging. The five-centimeter Orchid Mantis danced through a storm of spells, weaving between blades of light. She caught up to her first target. Backstab. Throat Slash. Debone. Spellbreak. Sea Rend. Five Lightchaser techniques, layered with [Midnight Exile]’s passive boost. Two seconds. That was all it took for the faint pink blur to flash past and lock onto her next victim. In that razor-thin instant, she felt something almost serene. Being disarmed didn’t matter. Her forelegs were her daggers now, every motion precise—the draw, the strike, the clean withdrawal. It was just like when Lightchaser had first taught her to use a dagger. The elf had stood behind her, hands over hers, guiding her through each motion again and again. Teaching her to tame her blade, not through repetition of words—Lightchaser never repeated herself—but through the rhythm of wind and rain, through snow and thunder, through every cut that drew a perfect line across the world. Once, she had asked Lightchaser, "When you were looking for me, didn’t you meet better students?" And over GodDraw77’s distant grumbling—"Hey, no comparisons!"—Lightchaser had calmly answered, "I met one about as good as you. But I took you first. There wasn’t another spot." She’d been secretly annoyed for days after that, wondering, If you’d met the other first, would you have chosen her instead of me? But now, looking back, she realized Lightchaser must have meant the version of her outside Arisentna. She couldn’t help but wonder—what kind of person would that future self be? Someone important enough for Maple Syrup and Mistblade to fear, desperate enough to stop her at any cost. Someone who could shake GodDraw77’s heart and make the volatile Lightchaser herself hesitate to deny her. The second student fell. Only one number left. From the corridors behind her, from the shelves above, from the open air of the library’s core—students surged toward her from every direction. Her health sat at eighteen percent. At that level, half the remaining players could one-shot her. She closed in on the last target as a flood of spells and gunfire converged from every angle, merging into a single radiant pillar. The whisper of tree shadows returned, mingling with the chime of wind bells and the smell of food. Skills flooded toward her. She had no time left to count how many seconds remained in the looting window. How much longer could she last? How many chances remained? When the dust settled, would she regret awakening a skill powerful enough to change the entire battle—and refusing to use it out of stubborn pride? This wasn’t Lightchaser’s moment. This was hers. The Orchid Mantis raised her forelegs high. "Treat every strike as a killing blow." "Slaughter is an art. You chose painting, didn’t you? Then imagine every cut as the stroke of your brush." "In the jungle, a moment’s hesitation decides life or death." Lightchaser’s brutality, Wail’s artistry, GodDraw77’s law of the wild—merged as one. In a heartbeat, dozens of pale-white arcs streaked outward from different angles, laced with faint pink trails. They struck so fast they looked simultaneous, forming a glowing sphere of blades that swallowed her final opponent whole. Without glancing back, the Orchid Mantis kept running, dodging blades, bullets, and spells as they rained from every direction. She flipped her left foreleg open; the Sudoku box, now scaled down with her size, hooked neatly onto her arm. At that moment, the number "7" solidified above her head and dropped straight into the box. She added the last two digits she had been saving from her dagger’s space and filled in the final blanks. Before she could close the little book, a burst of light consumed the screen. The explosion of multicolored magic looked like a sky full of fireworks. A stadium of nearly a billion spectators fell utterly silent. Every gaze locked onto the main screen. No one even breathed. Was it over? Did she make it? The crimson card fell. A scarlet beam shot into the heavens. A barely visible Orchid Mantis drifted into it, and in the next blink, the transformation dissolved—revealing Rita herself, whole again. Her face, still soft and scholarly, carried a razor’s edge of battle intent. In that instant, her aura was every bit as fierce as Maple Syrup’s and Mistblade’s, who now looked like completely different beings. Everyone had seen her awaken a new skill. Everyone had seen that miniature Lightchaser appear. Everyone had heard her say, "I don’t need your help." So arrogant. So bold. But she’d won. Defiant and radiant, she followed only herself. The contrast between her gentle features and that blazing dominance was like sunlight crossing into moonlight—so brilliant that no one could look away. This year’s individual champion had been born.