The black cat was already rolling on the floor laughing. "You taught her that skill?" it asked Lightchaser between wheezes.

"What skill?" Lightchaser looked genuinely confused. "And who's she?"

The cat narrowed its eyes. It already knew where this was going, but it answered anyway. "...Your student."

Lightchaser blinked innocently, confusion deepening. "I don't have a student."

The blood elf groaned. "Unbelievable. You've officially run out of shame."

Lightchaser said nothing, face perfectly serious. She wasn't shameless—she was just stubbornly preserving what little pride she had left.

…

"Alright, starting from the moment BS Rita used [Let It Die], how long did it take Foolishness to run home?"

"Point eight seconds. I timed it."

"Whoa. That's faster than their round trip to Arisentna during the team match."

"Truly surpassing themselves."

"Impressive."

"...Deceitful Bloom left the lab too, you know. Why is no one talking about her?"

"Huh? Speak up, I can barely hear you over Deceitful Bloom and Hearthsmoke laughing their heads off."

Foolishness: …

…

On the game table, only one hurdle remained—the highest of them all.

Rita finally understood why Pine Bloom had been screaming like a maniac earlier. Without shouting at full volume, there was no way a turtle could jump that high.

Even with [Let It Die] and [The Wind Doesn't Speak] boosting her luck and strength, her turtle was only five meters ahead. That lead wasn't safe, not when her "world's luckiest person" buff had a strict two-hour limit.

And now Maple Syrup and Pine Bloom stood beside her like guardians—or executioners—one on each side. Still, she couldn't stop.

She inhaled deeply, summoned all the strength she had left, and roared one final "Aba!"

The tiny white turtle leapt into the air, cleared the tallest hurdle, and—after a triumphant echoing "Ba"—landed three centimeters from the finish line. Victory.

When Rita walked out of the whale cloud home, clutching her new World Graveyard, the entire world felt gray and empty.

That game had drained her soul.

Even Maple Syrup, who had maintained a perfect poker face since the team match, had laughed when she saw Rita's performance. Laughed! If Rita weren't in such a rush, she'd have stayed just to see how Maple Syrup handled this ridiculous game herself.

She stopped at the entrance and turned to face Pine Bloom, who was still following her. She pointed at Pine Bloom, then at herself, then spread her hands with an expression that said: Why are you still following me?

Pine Bloom tilted her head, pretending to listen carefully. "What's that? I can't hear you."

Rita exhaled sharply through her nose. Not worth it. She wasn't wasting another second.

The waves behind her swirled into the shape of a ship's wheel. With a pulse of [Absolute Freedom], she vanished and reappeared on a floating shard of mountain far from the noisy cloud house.

Outside, the world was scarred from battles fought while she'd been inside shouting "Aba." Nothing stayed peaceful for long.

A massive cloud whale drifted past. Rita slipped through the window that formed its "eye" and entered.

The moment she stepped in, her brow furrowed. The place was loud. Too loud.

Another talking game.

The deeper she walked, the more bizarre the chatter became. Every sentence she caught sounded like gossip with dangerously high informational value. It was a minefield of drama.

Every few seconds, someone's head lit up with a red glow followed by a forced half-turn away from the table.

Where the hell had she walked into?

Suppressing her unease, she scanned the room and spotted the posted rules. Then she noticed who was standing in line.

Mistblade.

And right beside her, Crab.

Rita's stomach dropped.

What happened to being "the luckiest person in the world"? Why was she surrounded by enemies every time she was vulnerable?

She tore her gaze from them and read the game rules.

Game: Puppet Clash.

Four players required. Each controls a puppet version of themselves on the table and must survive.

During the match, the game master stands at the head of the table, operating a miniature laser cannon that fires at the puppets.

Each puppet has three hit points. A single shot—shielded or not—costs one. Lose all three, and you're out. The last puppet standing wins.

Players can use any skill to dodge or buff themselves, as long as their puppet remains on the table. Attacks between puppets have no effect.

Simple enough—if it weren't for the extra rule.

Whenever a player says something that causes the soulfire of any of the other three contestants to fluctuate, their puppet instantly regains one hit point.

Two "friendly reminders" followed:

Soulfire is extremely sensitive. Even players whose emotions have long since settled will still react if something hits a nerve. When a player's soulfire wavers, a red light appears above their head, and they are forced to turn away from the table for one second. During that second, they can't control their puppet—leaving it completely defenseless.

If a story or statement involves another official Divine Game contestant, every word must be true.

No wonder the place sounded like the gossip pit of hell.

There were four tables in the house, but Mistblade's had the shortest line—unsurprisingly.

Rita wasn't foolish enough to pick a fight when time mattered. After weighing her options, she stepped behind Mistblade and took her spot. The number "3" glowed above her head.

Good. One more player and the next round could start. Hopefully someone would join soon so she wouldn't have to wait long.

That thought had barely crossed her mind when a too-familiar voice chirped behind her, bright and cheerful. "What a coincidence!"

Pine Bloom.

Rita groaned softly and covered her face with one hand.

Mistblade, who had been side-eyeing Rita ever since she arrived, finally spoke. "I heard you went dumb."

Crab turned his head, curious. "Yeah, I heard that too. Doesn't sound fake."

Rita kept her mouth shut. Silence might look like confirmation, but saying anything might seal her doom.

Pine Bloom jumped in, voice dripping with enthusiasm. "Oh, it's true! I was there!"

Rita's fingers twitched. Of course the rumor came from Pine Bloom. She'd probably been the one to drag Maple Syrup over too.

Pine Bloom was the worst.

If not for the rule preventing anyone from sharing a game's specifics outside its house, Pine Bloom would already be reenacting the entire scene.

"I swear," Pine Bloom said wistfully to Mistblade, "once this Divine Game is over, I'll show you what it looked like. Maple Syrup was laughing. You know her—ever since losing her wings in the Maple Burn event, she hasn't laughed once."

Mistblade's eyes widened. "Maple Syrup laughed?"

Crab echoed, astonished. "Maple Syrup finally laughed?"

"Exactly!" Pine Bloom confirmed.

Rita's internal scream was silent but deafening. How long were they going to keep up this "Our Lady Finally Smiled" nonsense?!

Before she could combust from embarrassment, the round ahead of them ended.

The next four—Rita, Crab, Mistblade, and Pine Bloom—took their places before the curved game table.

Four control levers appeared along the edge.

As they stood there, four tiny puppets materialized in front of them, each an exact miniature replica of its player:

A black-haired, smirking doll for Rita.

An emerald-winged owl doll for Mistblade.

A six-tailed fox doll for Pine Bloom.

And a crab doll, naturally, for Crab.

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