Maple Syrup made one last attempt. She wrote, You traded the Rose Proof for…

Before she could finish, a small hand shot out and wrote, Four Seasons City.

Pine Bloom paused. To be honest, in that instant, judging by who was more punchable, it was obvious who BS-Rita was.

Syntax did not even need to know BS-Rita well. Somehow he just knew.

But it was already too late. As soon as those words were written and while everyone was distracted watching, BS-Rita clamped down on Maple Syrup's hand, and at the same time her other hand snapped forward and seized Pine Bloom's hand.

All three white dumplings flashed with white light, popped out of game mode, and returned to their real forms.

As the light stretched, Syntax was left behind as a dumpling, tilting his head back and staring blankly up at the three who were holding hands and looking down at him.

What about him? What was he supposed to do?

Suddenly he understood why any time BS-Rita came up, Maple Syrup, Pine Bloom, Mistblade, and Fat Goose all wore the expression of someone who had just swallowed expired sour wine. Now he had to add the leaders who stayed behind during the Card Swap to siege BS as well.

The moment the game declared success, Rita flung Pine Bloom's and Maple Syrup's hands away, let out a disgusted little "ugh," and without a word grabbed the mech energy vial and hurried off to choose her prize.

Maple Syrup and Pine Bloom shut their eyes at the same time, clenched their fists, and breathed deeply.

They truly had not expected BS-Rita to quit acting halfway through.

Halfway into that deep breath, something started patting their legs. They looked down and saw what appeared to be Syntax's dumpling frantically slapping at them with tiny hands, his beady eyes glazed and lost.

Maple Syrup said, "Why didn't you grab us faster?"

Pine Bloom said, "No sense for timing at all."

Maple Syrup said, "Typical undead."

Pine Bloom said, "A flaw of the species."

With that, the two owl emperors left side by side.

Although Dawn's invasion had forced them into a tighter alliance, belittling the undead was a pleasure owls would never tire of.

Syntax said nothing.

Rita used her three units of materials to take a cauldron, a sheet of the finest spellpaper in the market, and a pen for professional enchantment work. She had wanted that sheet back in the last trade zone, but it weighed eight kilograms by itself.

Once she finished, deep blue surf rolled up behind her and the sound of waves washed over the stall as she vanished from the zone.

Browsing at the same stall, Dawn Cicada and Maple Syrup both glanced over at once. Their brows drew together for a heartbeat, then smoothed.

This game prevented players from attacking one another. Even Maple Syrup's newly reawakened Nemesis would not trigger. A game like this had its pros and cons.

BS-Rita's foundation was still too thin. Even with course rewards from almost every game she played, both Dawn Cicada and Maple Syrup had been in the Divine Game longer than they could remember. Whatever they crafted would outclass BS-Rita's work in quality.

As for agents, they had heard the little Mechanoid shout its pledge to BS-Rita, but to them it was only an ordinary little Mechanoid. They actually knew many stronger Mechanoids.

The game had just begun. There was time. They only needed to keep BS-Rita from taking first place.

Both women calmly looked away.

By then Rita had returned to her starting room. Outside the window, row upon row of starting rooms sat empty. The entire world felt deserted, leaving only her. She released her two pets, then hurried to the corner and picked up the cup of hot water she had set down before leaving.

The water had gone cold. Time was flowing in this room while she played.

Once she confirmed that, Rita sat cross-legged and began laying out the cauldron and potions.

Nivalis asked curiously, "So you decided what to make?"

Rita said, "Yes. A painting."

She had checked with B8017913 before committing. Among the known god relics, no one had ever submitted a watercolor.

Her reasoning was clear. Whether it was alchemy or cooking, she could not match the veteran players. Their depth and breadth of knowledge, their experience in both fields, could not be bridged by a few Divine Game courses. Some had been playing for centuries. The gap was a fact she could not change.

Even if her level placed her in the top ten thousand, it would not matter. For her right now, anything but first place was failure.

What she could lean on was the one thing no living being in the invasion era could escape: soulfire, that spark that let you comprehend a skill at the peak of emotion.

Just like when she learned Scratch Card.

All it took then was a plain sheet of paper and an ordinary pen. Yet when she set down everything about Arisentna with single-minded devotion, she comprehended an SSS skill.

So what if she painted everything after she was reborn?

She set up a cauldron stand, placed the top-grade cauldron she had redeemed from the trade zone, and began preparing potions. Some needed grinding, some needed roasting.

She did not plan to pit herself against veteran alchemists, but this, too, would be part of her painting. She would use potions instead of pigment.

As for cooking, when she actually began to paint, she would eat a dish prepared with Let It Die.

Once Rita explained what she was going to paint, Nivalis and B8017913 could not keep their mouths shut.

"You will paint me, right? Want me to strike a pose?"

"Will you paint the trash mountain?"

"Make sure I am first."

"Are you painting my current body or my chip?"

"Want me to help you step on Sanchez?"

"Will you paint yourself? I can stand on your shoulder like Pikachu. My cube can change colors."

Rita's ears hummed, but she did not stop them. She let them chatter.

Because as they talked, she began to imagine the others she knew. If they were here and heard what she was planning, what would they say?

She opened the jar of Verser's Ashfire, slid it under the cauldron, and started brewing the first color.

Half an hour later, Rita left the starting room.

With her current stock she could only produce three colors. She needed more.

She left Nivalis to stir the potions. It was the simplest task and Nivalis would not mess it up.

Rita set a landing point between the second and third trade zones. Seeing no one around, she sent B8017913 back to the pet space, changed clothes, pulled in the golden rain curtain, and used her disguise skill again.

She became a silver-haired, gold-eyed player. She did not alter her race in any special way and remained human.

There were many players of other races in the battlefield who looked no different from humans. Perhaps their traits were well hidden. Like the ship's captain in the demon city and the lady who smelled faintly of coffee, both looked human, yet she was certain they were not.

The thought made her pause.

Because with that thought came the natural follow-up.

If they were not human, then what were they?

Were gods born gods?

She stood there zoning out for a rare moment, then came back to herself. This time she chose a different heading and, sprinting at full speed, darted into a new trade zone.

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