"Where did BS’s Zoey go?"
Rita’s mind flashed with the smile Zoey had just shown. She roughly understood its aning.
For Zoey, that single question spoke more than a thousand words.
Why had Maple Syrup, knowing she was Zoey and not Maple Mu, still kept her?
Perhaps the apocalypse was right at the doorstep, one crisis after another, and she was simply too busy.
Perhaps she knew that nothing could be undone.
Or maybe Maple Syrup truly couldn’t tell BS Zoey from Lania Kaia’s Maple Mu...
But after that question, all past doubts beca irrelevant.
Even if given the chance, Maple Syrup would have unhesitatingly let Maple Mu return, even if Zoey was rely an inferior substitute in her eyes...
For this mont, it was enough.
Zoey’s need for emotion had always been limited. To her, power and status equaled love. Other forms of affection were like the chocolate hidden in the tip of an ice cream cone—pleasant surprises, but what she really wanted was the ice cream itself.
For a while, silence fell between them until BS Zoey’s figure vanished around the corner.
"I never knew your dream was to save the beings of Starsea," Maple Syrup said, skipping over the tender topic, and asked, "Your previous Divine talent was One-Person Party, right? Now you plan to pull everyone into your party?"
Her tone was so calm that Rita couldn’t imdiately tell if she was being sarcastic.
Still, she answered seriously. "My Divine talent word is Sovereign. If all this is a ga, then I’ll play it according to my will, to achieve the ending I want. That’s the only way to deepen my understanding of my Divine talent. By joining this plan, you might also understand your Four Seasons."
Maple Syrup let out a quiet laugh—the first since Rita had entered the tree tower platform.
As Rita wondered if her words had sounded too much like a sales pitch, Maple Syrup turned her gaze from the distance back to her, shadow falling across her face, making it impossible to read her expression.
Relentlessly, she said, "But after my duel with the Mud Bears, you ca asking about the bear cookies. That’s when you thought of turning beings into cookies to bypass the world’s population limit. At that ti, you hadn’t even realized your Divine talent word."
Rita lifted her head to et Maple Syrup’s gaze.
"I often see bad breeds disguise themselves as good, but you..." Maple Syrup paused, searching for the right words, then said, "You seem to resist being misunderstood as a selfless good person. You reject praise and admiration."
"Because after praise and admiration co endless demands and criticisms."
The wind from above lifted the young Adjudicator’s long hair. A silly, childish Calico Cat’s Head pinned to her collar contrasted with her cold, pessimistic words.
"I save these beings for myself, not for anything intangible. No one has the right to demand anything of , no one can judge whether I’m doing enough. I can stop anyti, I can stop whenever I choose.
"But once ideals or responsibilities creep in, everyone will demand I do better.
"Don’t even think about it. They need to climb onto my ship, not the other way around."
Rita’s favorite thing was giving beings a choice.
It wasn’t just about freedom—it ant everyone had to be responsible for their own choices.
She chose what she wanted to do. The beings chose their own endings. Everyone bore responsibility for their own decisions.
"So... will you join this plan?"
"As long as you can find beings willing to live in this form."
The situation was far better than Rita had imagined.
She hadn’t even left the tree tower platform when a ssage from Mistblade arrived:
"Nuclear Flash and Marmang are willing to try our plan."
Marmang was a four-star world without a world skill. Even the strongest, Crab, had never reached level 19.
Against Nuclear Flash—especially the complex, legendary, shattered-and-rebuilt Nuclear Flash—Marmang had no chance.
Even if Nuclear Flash absorbed Marmang, it couldn’t take all of Marmang’s beings.
Stopping midway was even less likely. Just five more worlds destroyed, and Nuclear Flash Guava could assemble another world skill.
They were pressed for ti. Negotiating wasn’t out of compassion—after coming this far, any talk of kindness would be hypocritical.
It was because of the special strength and nature of BSMistblade and BS Rita that they gave Marmang a chance.
Rita summoned the Cat’s Ideal directly on the tree tower platform, boarding with Maple Syrup. Turning the helm, they returned to BS, picked up Mistblade, Smoke Tune, and Crab, then set off straight for Marmang.
"Marmang Lulumi... they’re really willing?" Maple Syrup couldn’t believe it.
She understood so beings didn’t want to die—but live so badly they’d beco cookies? She couldn’t comprehend it.
She stressed, "Did you tell them? Once turned into cookies, they retain consciousness and can move, but they won’t grow stronger.
"And their daily magic pool is only a tenth of what it was before. When depleted, they beco brittle like dampened dough. They must be near heat to crisp back up and restore magic.
"If they burn, it gets tricky—they have to scrape off the charred parts and use healing skills themselves."
She repeated this to BS Rita and Mistblade, and again to Marmang Lulumi, Nuclear Flash, NightFury, Nuclear Flash Guava, and others.
"Does it hurt to be made into a cookie?"
"...No pain."
Despite her long explanation, the surrounding players looked increasingly astonished. Maple Syrup leaned against the coral, arms crossed.
"I’m just here to understand a Divine talent word. Next ti you want to bake cookies, just let know. I can bake a batch in five minutes, and with help, even faster."
She pressed her lips together and fell silent.
Marmang’s leaders busied themselves. So negotiated with Nuclear Flash on how much ti they could get. Marmang Lulumi began deciding which beings would go to Nuclear Flash and which would beco cookies.
Rita paced the room, considering if there were any loopholes in the plan, testing the limits of her powers.
Passing Maple Syrup, she glimpsed her grim expression and murmured, "You reject praise and admiration?"
Maple Syrup closed her eyes, her voice barely above a breath: "I just hate sarcasm and hypocrisy.
"If I allowed even a second of their gratitude to touch , or felt moved by it, I..."
What would she do?
She didn’t say. "Sarcasm" and "hypocrisy" were the only two words she had ever used to describe it.
The Forest Sea ruins were lit by soul fire.
Past atrocities had beco a path for living beings.
The oak-owl didn’t know which season of Four Seasons she had truly realized.
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