Six minutes left.
If the Librarians or the rabbit landed even a single hit, her result would collapse.
Her calculations were like a fragile High Tower built from over two thousand chopsticks—remove just one, and the whole structure could crumble.
She could hide in the shadow world, but Maple Syrup would follow her there. Without Mystic Force, could she really last six minutes against Maple Syrup, who had hers active and didn’t need to worry about defense?
Running to another floor was pointless. The rabbit would hunt her down, and even if it couldn’t enter the shadow world, its presence would guide Maple Syrup straight to her.
And Pomango was still alive.
Had she already used Cri Simulation? Had she copied Mojie’s Low-Risk Investnt before Mojie left the ga? Even if not, now that Rita had used it, could Pomango simulate it afterward?
Should she risk using No Logic again?
It was a last resort.
After using No Logic twice, her Luck had already dropped by six points. Another use would cripple her chances in the next two matches.
But maybe it was still worth it. Once her Luck dropped below ten, Waste Guide sotis rolled a rare buff that increased Luck slightly. The odds were terrible, but not zero—barely enough to keep her balanced.
If only Temporal Stroll hadn’t been sealed, she could’ve escaped into the past for a while.
Tucking away the white robe, Rita built another small snowman, then copied Cri Simulation from her inventory and sealed it within.
She backed into a corner and activated the skill, targeting the half-ruined third floor of the library.
Instantly, her vision flooded with pages of skill descriptions—layer upon layer, the echoes of every student’s abilities from the earlier chaos.
She walked among them, drifting through the written mories of combat.
It reminded her of her first Divine Ga back in her third year. The opening match had also been a Fun Match, and she’d been cornered in a sewer at the very end, surrounded by other players.
Back then, she’d also used a ti-stopping skill to think, scanning every opponent’s abilities one by one. That was how she’d first awakened Send the Link.
She stopped for a mont, listening for that familiar chi of new comprehension. Nothing ca.
During those long minutes of fighting under Maple Syrup’s relentless pressure, she had hoped—every second—that she might awaken sothing powerful, sothing to turn the tide in an instant.
But no miracle ca.
For a mont, despair almost made her laugh. Maybe if she’d listened to GodDraw77’s spell chants with this sa desperate intensity, she might have awakened a barbarian form instead.
She kept walking, passing one familiar face after another.
Her old classmates. Everyone’s skills were sharper now, more refined, more dangerous.
In one corner, she found Motor and Cinnabar, still locked in their personal duel, oblivious to everything else—just as she and Maple Syrup had been monts ago.
She saw Pine Bloom too, using her mind-reading skills while staring at Maple Syrup in the air. From that angle, she could also see herself—the version frozen mid-fight before ti had stopped.
Had Pine Bloom analyzed her? Or Maple Syrup? What was she seeing through those eyes right now?
Finally, Rita ca face to face with another close friend—Mistblade.
Her best friend. The one she’d invite to go to the bathroom before she’d ever invite Maple Syrup. That was how high her rank was in Rita’s heart.
Like Pine Bloom, Mistblade’s gaze was fixed on the sky above. A half-released attack hovered in front of her, the projectile aid toward the empty air opposite Maple Syrup’s position—straight at where Rita had been.
But that wasn’t what hurt. Rita understood why. Everyone wanted to win.
If Mistblade couldn’t make that choice at a ti like this, they’d never have been friends in the first place.
What broke her heart was the faint silver threads stretching from Mistblade’s eyes—the manifestation of her skill: On the Chessboard.
On the Chessboard (SS): "The secret to winning a ga is learning which pieces must be sacrificed." This skill can only be activated when your heart holds an unwavering ideal. When cast, it allows you to perceive how much value a chosen target holds toward achieving that ideal.
Rita stared at the skill’s description, silent for a long ti.
It was like waking up from a long sleep to find everyone else had grown up.
Everyone had ideals now. Convictions. Goals worth sacrificing for.
And she was the one left behind.
No—she had dreams too. She wanted GodDraw77. She’d even fight her friends for it.
They were the sa. All of them.
There was nothing childish about it.
She couldn’t be the only one allowed to chase a dream. That would be selfish.
She wiped her eyes with her sleeve, but her black uniform was soaked in blood, saring her face even dirtier.
Then she lowered her head and pressed her eyes into the crook of her arm, trying to hold herself together.
Of course she knew Mistblade’s dream—it was a grand one, about the future of the Moonfox race.
Mistblade had said it before: "Responsibility shouldn’t be ruled by affection."
So she was one of those affections—sothing to be discarded.
A piece to be sacrificed.
Her friend really was remarkable. Born to lead.
...
Maple Syrup blinked, and in that instant, all her numbers vanished. BS-Rita was gone.
A second later, Rita appeared beside the rabbit. The world dimd. Her lantern flared to life, and the rabbit vanished.
That skill again.
She’d actually sent the rabbit away.
The Deep Blue Helm lit up.
In the midst of Crab’s outraged shout—"You thief! Give back my skill!"—BS-Rita’s figure faded out completely.
So she wasn’t running. She’d simply vanished.
Now it was just a question of whether Maple Syrup could find her before ti ran out.
She imdiately dove into the shadow world—no Rita.
She landed hard, killing a nearby student in one strike to collect their number, then bolted for the second floor.
Dozens of players moved at the sa ti—Quex, Pomango, Mistblade, NightFury, Frenzied Shark—all rushing toward the stairwell.
Six minutes remaining. This wasn’t garbage ti. It was coback ti.
But when they reached the first floor, no one found her.
Not in the shadow world either.
Maple Syrup closed her eyes and steadied her breathing. She’d gotten too impatient. She’d wanted to end it right there, to nail BS-Rita to the wall.
Pomango’s voice ca through the chaos. "She probably used my Cri Simulation—she can borrow any skill that’s been used in the match! If any of you have stealth or concealnt skills, think! Use them!"
Minute after minute passed.
Nothing.
Players scoured all five floors of the library, and still, no one could find her.
With thirty seconds left, Maple Syrup sat on the third-floor railing, staring blankly at the enormous glowing number suspended in the air.
She’d lost again.
The candlelight on the walls flickered into its final countdown—00:10.
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