If Moonlight Marsh was a self-contained rainforest ecosystem, filled with seasons and natural elents—where students might have class on a grassy field in the morning and float into a lecture on the river in the afternoon—then Grayvale was a colossal canyon shrouded in mist.
This region was covered in fog almost 80% of the year. Riverboats drifted between canyon walls, and students lived aboard them. Though technically called a river, each bank was over a kiloter apart.
According to GodDraw77, the rivers of Grayvale liked to play tricks. When students left to attend classes in the mountains, the river would often shift their houseboats—sending them upstream or downstream. Every day after class, students wandered the fog just trying to locate their own hos again.
Rita thought it reminded her of the giant trees in Moonlight Marsh. They, too, seed to enjoy ssing with students—especially by casting all the light on the marsh so the young ones would fumble around miserably.
Teachers and participants from every academy were housed in massive boats provided by Grayvale, separate from the student houseboats. These vessels looked more like miniature cruise liners, each accommodating thousands of teachers and students.
When Rita stepped aboard, she felt like she was about to embark on a world cruise.
Each academy got its own boat—even the smallest school, "Zoo," was assigned one. As for the non-academy participants and their teachers, they were all packed onto a single giant vessel.
Rita quietly sighed. This was the difference between sect-born and solo wanderers.
No one was foolish enough to stir trouble during Divine Ga prep. Even if soone had underhanded tactics in mind, they’d wait until the ga began. Causing issues beforehand would impact your ga rating—though ironically, it’d be a positive impact. Divine Ga only cared about victory or defeat. It never judged right from wrong.
As a contestant, Rita was given her own little houseboat.
She was currently sorting her belongings.
Her Moonlight Marsh-issued backpack, two daggers, and the headpiece nad \[Stop Waiting].
Inside the backpack were her uniform, spring flowers, pumpkins, autumn leaves, winter snow, and miniature snown modeled after herself.
She’d left behind other items—wines, trinkets—at ho.
Lightchaser hadn’t gifted her any equipnt, nor had Rita prepared extra gear herself. Because even though the Divine Ga changed its rules every year, one rule remained constant: no more than three magical items per participant.
That limit included space items, tools, consumables, and enchanted objects.
Even if you sneaked sothing in through a storage item, once inside the ga, any magic-laced contraband would get ejected.
Which brought her to a problem.
The Divine Relics on her left and right hands already took up two slots.
She never once considered leaving them at ho. Not even handing them off to Lightchaser for safekeeping. Bound or not, she’d seen enough betrayal at Burrowbug Tavern to never risk that relationship.
That left just one slot.
And it had to be the backpack.
Not only could it store materials like pumpkins and leaves needed for skills, but if she used a steal-type skill without a storage item, the loot would appear right in her hands—completely exposing her.
Rita pulled out the two daggers and the headpiece Reyhana had given her, planning to hand them over to the instructors for safekeeping tomorrow.
Even the snown had to be smashed. She could rebuild them once inside the ga.
...
January 6th, 6:00 a.m.
Non-participating students had already been sent to the spectator platforms.
Rita joined her fellow contestants from Moonlight Marsh on the main deck.
GodDraw77 was nowhere to be seen. Supervising the students was a sword instructor.
Rita waited patiently. Across the canyon walls on both sides, countless seats had appeared without warning. They were now packed with spectators, shouting down toward the students.
It was louder than any arena she’d fought in—but to Rita, it was just more noise.
To be fair, this was better than the arena. At least people here were shouting encouragent instead of insults.
She was more curious about where and what the entrance to the Divine Ga would be.
"You’re not nervous?"
Soone had spoken to her directly.
Rita looked to her left. It was a classmate—Motorhead.
Their first encounter had been in the Asaein library. Back then, she hadn’t expected that this strange student was literally nad Motorhead.
They got along decently. Better than with most other classmates. They both frequently ended up in SSS-level classes for both ranged and lee combat.
Today, Motorhead was in its robotic humanoid form, with parts of its body crystallized. The golden shimr of sunlight reflected off its limbs like armor.
Rita instinctively adjusted her collar and smoothed her hair. She didn’t want to make Moonlight Marsh look bad.
She answered casually. "Not nervous. They’re not coming down here, are they?"
Motorhead seed reassured.
It glanced around, then leaned in and whispered, "If the first round’s a Fun Match, want to team up?"
The three rounds of Divine Ga were randomized every year. No one—not even the teachers—knew the order. Sotis the team event ca first, sotis the Fun Match. It tested more than strength. It tested character.
You could win the solo and fun rounds, but if your team envied your success, they might sabotage the final match just to stop you from unlocking GodDraw77. In the end, you’d be left to fight alone.
Before Rita could reply, Motorhead quickly added, "No team-ups. No collaborations. But if we et in-ga and either of us has sothing the other wants—skill or item—we trade. Fair and square."
It understood Rita. Or more precisely, it had been studying Rita, Mistblade, Maple Syrup, and Fat Goose for a long ti.
Everyone knew they were close. They always sat together, backed each other up, and never left anyone behind if trouble ca from upperclassn. But their way of interacting was notoriously formal and distant—especially for friends.
Take Rita’s highly sought-after snown, for example. Motorhead had witnessed all three of her friends ask for one at lunch. Rita would hand them out without hesitation—but they’d always give her sothing back.
Maybe it was a chance-based cookie that boosted attributes, a rare perfu, or top-grade magical food. It wasn’t as strict as her standard pricing, but she never gave them away for free.
And the sa applied in reverse. When Rita needed sothing—be it Mistblade’s perfu, Maple Syrup’s fire-wing tricks, or Fat Goose’s cooking—she’d always offer sothing in return.
Motorhead had overheard classmates gossiping about how cold and businesslike their friendship seed.
But to Motorhead, it was the ideal way to live.
It had always wanted to be part of their group. It just never found the right chance.
Now it had one.
If Rita was chasing GodDraw77, she’d want people like her by her side.
"Good. Fair trade," Rita replied. "Nothing less."
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