Rita couldn’t see the stats or information for the dishes, but she was certain of one thing: none of them were below four-star quality.
Every ti she finished a dish, she gained a new buff. By the end of the al, the total of those boosts nearly matched the power of [The Wind Doesn’t Speak], and the effects lasted impressively long. Every five minutes another layer would refresh automatically.
So it seed the "Dustfire" skill still hid several effects that weren’t written in its description.
Would the revived Autumn Deer or Tingo be using this sa skill during their matches?
That thought made her switch from "super-fast eating" to "super-anxious super-fast eating."
From summoning the bento to finishing the entire spread, Rita spent less than ten minutes.
The mont she set her chopsticks down, the wooden box and dishes vanished automatically. She dabbed her mouth with a napkin and stood up.
The bartender polishing glasses nearby looked up with a grin. "Finished? Was it good?"
Rita nodded naturally. "Aba aba."
Halfway through standing up, she froze. ???
So this was what "saying strange things uncontrollably" ant?
She slowly lifted her head. The bartender was staring at her too, curiosity and amusent barely hidden behind his polite smile.
"I thought so," he said. "Looked tasty."
Apparently, even if she spoke nonsense, the listener could still understand her perfectly.
Straightening her back, Rita adjusted her uniform collar, nodded graciously, and walked briskly toward the ga tables.
No big deal. Minor problem. She would just keep her mouth shut unless absolutely necessary.
There were five ga tables inside the cloud house. Each had a host seated in the main spot—a non-student entity, all dressed in sleek black suits. They ca in every shape imaginable: humanoids, animals, even a giant fruit. Their suits marked them clearly apart from the students.
Every table had three extra chairs. Once four players were seated, the ga began.
By the ti Rita had finished her al, every table was already full. With nearly a thousand players and barely over a thousand cloud houses, and half of them floating too high to easily reach, none of the houses would ever lack participants.
And once inside a house, players had to complete at least one full ga before they could leave.
At the mont, several students were lined up waiting their turn at each table. It was another rule here: players had to queue. When soone entered the waiting line, a glowing number appeared above their head to mark their order.
This house’s ga was called "Pull Ring Bomb." On each table sat a single soda can and four decks of Divine Ga cards—crimson, azure, gold, and one pure white deck placed in front of the dealer.
The rules were simple. Players took turns sliding one of their cards under the pull ring tab. Eventually the stacked cards would lift the ring enough to pop it open. When the can hissed, the ga ended, and the player who triggered it was eliminated.
The next round continued with the remaining players until only one remained to face the dealer. If the player beat the host, they’d receive or expend a World Graveyard according to their world challenge’s chanics.
The matches weren’t difficult, and each round was quick.
While players couldn’t physically or magically attack each other, they could use any other ans to interfere.
Rita approached a table already deep into its final round. Two students were seated waiting for their turn, and two more stood behind them, glowing numbers "1" and "2" above their heads.
The soda can already had more than a dozen cards wedged beneath the tab. It was about to pop when an argunt erupted at another table—sothing about a "divine relic."
Instantly, several waiting players rushed toward the commotion, even one who had already been seated.
The distraction was enough. The player currently taking their turn fumbled, pushed too hard, and pop—the can opened with a hiss.
Rita, now the new number one in the queue, slipped smoothly into the vacant seat before anyone else could react.
She could already feel [Let It Die] working its charm.
The yellow cactus wearing a black suit gathered the cards and eyed her curiously. "Hello there."
Rita pressed her lips together, smiled politely, and nodded—ssage received: "Hello to you too."
Just then, the players who had run off ca hurrying back. Apparently the relic commotion was a false alarm. But their seat was gone.
One by one, they sat according to their glowing numbers, looking sour but accepting the rules.
From the very first move, Rita’s luck was absurd. Unlike the others, who could at least make small mistakes, her every draw, every play, was perfect. No matter how risky it looked, the can’s tab never popped on her turn.
Three rounds passed in under five minutes.
At the end, the cactus host sighed and handed her a prize tile—a gleaming mahjong piece etched with the character for "East Wind." Its tooltip read: Cannot be dropped. Cannot be stolen.
She pocketed it and left the cloud house, feeling the cactus’s envious gaze on her back.
At the whale’s mouth-shaped exit, Rita paused. Instead of stepping out, she activated [Waste Guide].
Once ti froze, she leapt into motion, slipping out of the house and onto a floating shard of stone. From there she spotted Misu the sea siren lurking behind a nearby boulder. Tilting her head, she caught sight of Wind Scythe Ironal and Candlebeast Sweet Shrimp hiding behind another.
Rita let out a quiet snort. So even among royals from the sa world, there were ranks after all. Otherwise, why would these ones be sent to stake her out? Their ti was clearly less valuable than Maple Syrup’s or Wither Monarch’s.
Still, if they did catch her, the mont those higher royals had a spare second, they’d be here in person.
She jumped from rock to rock through the broken peaks, tagging coordinates for later use, ensuring she could reach any part of the area instantly with [Absolute Freedom].
Monts like this made her really miss her wings.
Every whale cloud ho bore a small rainbow-colored number. Compared to their massive bodies, the numbers were tiny—smaller than her hand—and faint in the sunlight, but visible if one looked carefully.
Rita stopped at Whale No. 555. Only then did she realize how cleverly the house rules were posted. Whether looking in through the whale’s mouth or through the eye-shaped window, the ruleboard was invisible. Even the gaming tables themselves were veiled in a faint haze.
All she could tell was how many players were inside.
So much for using ti stop to peek at every house’s rules and pick the shortest gas.
After exploring nearly eighty percent of the floating ruins, she finally chose a quiet whale ho and stretched out on its broad back to rest.
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