Both stairwells were blocked by living tree shadows. The others swept wildly across the third floor, strangling every student left alive.
The golden beer mugs filled with lightning ale kept spawning and exploding in bursts of deafening thunder.
Rita’s situation was worse than anyone’s. She wasn’t just dodging shadow strikes and lightning blasts—she also had to fight her own living shadow.
And the most outrageous part? Every ti the shadow hit her, she lost health. Every ti she hit it, she still lost health.
She had never seen a skill so shaless.
Her only option was to rely on Nebula Bubble and relentless movent to survive.
Rita rummaged through her storage and found a skill card called Self-Exile. Without hesitation, she threw it straight at Maple Syrup.
It caused so trouble for Maple Syrup, but not enough to kill her. Maple Syrup simply bound her own shadow with the forest’s darkness, immobilizing it.
What irritated Rita most was that she couldn’t identify the exact skill Maple Syrup used to summon this ocean of trees. It had to be tied to her divine relic, activated only through its connection.
And the massacre went on.
She didn’t dare imagine how many hundreds of students Maple Syrup had already killed, or how many numbers she had collected—how she was carefully combining them to make her total inch closer and closer to that final target number, 2.
Just as Rita was planning to outlast Maple Syrup’s ultimate and look for a counterattack, Maple Syrup suddenly charged straight toward her.
She ignored everyone else, bringing with her a tidal wave of shadowed trees.
Ti seed to slow. When Rita looked into those determined eyes, she finally understood.
What did Maple Syrup want? A divine relic? Maybe.
But she also wanted Rita to lose the Divine Ga. She wanted to kill her—completely, if that were possible.
The proof was right there. Every Moonlight Marsh student on this floor was dead except for a few monsters like Mistblade Fat Goose who could defend themselves.
Maple Syrup had done it deliberately. She’d burned through all one hundred of Moonlight Marsh’s team revival charges before coming for her.
Even the invitation to team up at the beginning must have been a trap.
If the first match had been a team battle, would she already have died to Maple Syrup’s betrayal?
Had Maple Syrup only wanted her to think she had found a teammate, when in truth, she never would have been allowed into the team?
Rita’s eyes stung hot. She bit her lip, stepped forward, and reverted to her true form, dagger in hand.
She would not lose to the friend who wanted her dead.
The short white blade and the long crimson spear clashed again and again in midair. The tallic rhythm of their strikes cut through the sound of exploding trees, lightning, and the ringing of bells.
Rita had already activated Mystic Force—she had no choice.
Shadow vines lashed from every direction, her own doppelgänger slashed from behind, the beer mugs exploded one after another, and students who tried to kill Maple Syrup didn’t care if their area attacks caught Rita too. Even the Librarians had joined the fight now.
Despite Mystic Force’s protection, her health kept dropping.
Tree shadows hurled debris, bound weak students she’d left alive, and used them like living turrets—pea shooters firing at her nonstop. Those counted as valid attacks.
The only thing keeping her alive were the tiny snown she had crafted after entering the library.
She tried to cast Mont of Reversal to swap her HP with Maple Syrup’s, but the system flashed back: skill invalid.
Rita laughed under her breath.
Of course Maple Syrup had prepared. She knew about Mystic Force and Mont of Reversal. She had planned every counter long before this battle began.
The dagger pressed against the spear, forcing Maple Syrup back against the wall.
Rita’s lips trembled, but she refused to speak—to give Maple Syrup even one word.
All the unanswered questions roared through her head at once.
Lightchaser and GodDraw77’s cryptic conversations:
"I still prefer the older one."
"See? Did you see that? When she t her new teacher, she thought of ."
"Are you realizing it now? That you’re actually the later one?"
"My student—the one I taught first—is a little older than you."
"You’ll et her soday. When you do, pass along what I’ve taught you. You’ll know her when you see her. She’s easy to recognize."
Lightchaser had taught her how to hide information in plain sight. Those lines weren’t aningless chatter. Lightchaser and GodDraw77 had been hinting at sothing.
Her personal match reward—the skill that had automatically chosen itself—That Was Close, Almost a Wipe.
Why that one? Who was she ant to revive?
Any of the others would have been stronger: Motor’s Protagonist Ti, Pomango’s Cri Simulation, Mojie’s Low-Risk Investnt.
And then there was the divine relic Wrathful Moon, with its sealed ability, Temporal Stroll.
Why had that suddenly been cursed, locked away?
And the rabbit’s tone—"You really an to attack ?"—like an old ntor scolding a reckless apprentice.
It had only taught her one sigil years ago. So why did it speak to her as if it had raised her?
As if it was another teacher.
And finally—the missing two years of her mory.
Everything had stopped at that personal match victory, when she received that strange gift from the mysterious Angler.
Divine Ga... Divine Ga.
She thought of the movies she’d watched as a kid, the stories within stories, the plays within plays.
What if Arisentna wasn’t a world at all, but a colossal ga board?
What if she had already grown up—but entered Arisentna to play, returning to the ti of her childhood self?
The "older one" Lightchaser ntioned... was that her? The grown-up version who had sohow escaped the ga and been brought back in?
If that was true, then Maple Syrup’s changes made perfect sense.
Her unnatural growth. Her impossible combat experience. Her unwavering intent to kill.
Maple Syrup’s eyes held no hatred, no malice—only purpose. She wasn’t driven by emotion. She was fulfilling sothing inevitable.
So close they could feel each other’s breath, BS-Rita’s tears trembled in her eyes as she asked quietly, "You have other mories, don’t you? Is that why you have to kill ?"
Maple Syrup pinned her beneath the rubble, emotionless as spells rained around them. But when she heard the question, a faint smile flickered in her eyes.
The young BS-Rita...
She thought suddenly of the BS-Rita in High Tower—still small back then, hiding behind Maple Burn’s face, pretending to be clueless. Even then, though, her personality in High Tower and Arisentna had been worlds apart.
If it were the BS-Rita from outside the Card Swap ga, she’d probably smirk, pretending not to care, and say sothing ridiculous like, "I knew it. Betrayal was there from the start."
The forest shadows coiled around BS-Rita, dragging her forward to shield Maple Syrup from the incoming spells of other players.
Maple Syrup looked at the burning light wings that passed through her own hand. She tilted her head slightly, leaned close to Rita’s ear, and whispered, her voice soft but steady:
"Yes. I have to kill you. And I’m sorry for it. After all..."
Rita’s pupils widened. Dozens of spells flew toward her, but that wasn’t why her body froze. It was Maple Syrup’s next words.
Her breath caught. Slowly, with the dread of a horror film protagonist hearing footsteps behind her, she turned her head toward Maple Syrup.
The words still echoed in her ears:
"After all, you called ’Mother’ for ten years."
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