The painting lit up.

A soft sheen spread over the entire canvas. Its title began to flicker again, and three new words appeared at the end: Awakening in Progress.

Rita and Y128 immediately used Romantic Tourist again, blinking toward the distant edge of the map.

A skill she could only use twelve times a day. Since the start of this match, she had used it five times.

Roughly equal to the number of hunters she had run into. Aside from that encounter with Ash Cinders, every time they met a hunter, she and Y128 used the skill without hesitation. No gambling on miracles, no testing their luck.

With the maps merging, the rate of running into hunters had clearly gone up. In such a short time, they had already brushed past Ash Cinders, Loriden, and the Archmage.

They cautiously located another charging pillar and started refilling Y128's energy.

As Rita scanned their surroundings, she grumbled, "Why set this up so annoyingly? Shared body controls, charging, all this…"

She wasn't just complaining for the sake of it. She was genuinely curious. Divine Game could be surprisingly considerate sometimes, rarely nitpicking on tiny details just to torture players.

Y128 answered, "To show players how troublesome contracting a Mechanoid really is—and to show Mechanoids how much freedom we lose once we're under contract."

Rita's verdict on that was, "Someone clearly has too much free time."

The You Are Being Watched notification rang again in her head. Even though this prompt had been popping up constantly ever since she met BS-Rita, Y128 still couldn't get used to the frequency. Did the gods really like her that much?

"…Could you keep it down a little?" Y128 said helplessly.

Rita whispered back, "Too much free time, picking fights on purpose."

Y128 regretted talking to BS-Rita at all.

Kill announcements kept rolling across the sky.

Rita never looked away from the far-off clouds. Lightchaser's barrier faded, then reformed in another zone.

The players in that area had already been wiped out. Had Lightchaser's fairy run into them?

What kind of expression did Ash Cinders wear the moment she realized Rita was part of this game?

If Isolated Isle failed and had to face the war head-on, would Ash Cinders hate her?

Would she still pull Rita into her arms, press her close, and murmur gently in her ear, You're my only student?

The players from Isolated Isle were incredibly strong, but that world was… special.

Only kids who entered a magic academy could ignite a god-given talent and unlock the player interface. There were a few non-academy apprentices, but not many. And those forty-one academies—how many students could they admit every year?

Which meant Isolated Isle's defining trait was terrifying high-end power, but a comparatively small number of people who could actually fight.

What star rating did that kind of world deserve? How many stars' worth of enemies could it really withstand?

Rita hugged the painting and, lost in her spiraling thoughts, endured until the second phase ended.

The scene before her shifted. She now stood inside a colossal temple. Eight thrones ringed the hall, each holding a seated shadow. Their faces and bodies were hidden, indistinct.

She wasn't alone. Hundreds of Divine Game players stood there with her.

Awakening a Player Relic wasn't complicated. Divine Game was always like this: when it truly wanted players to gain something, it could be shockingly generous.

Blue motes of light rose from the floor, drifting upward and then sinking into every Player Relic in the players' hands.

From the fourth throne on the right, a lazy female voice drawled, "Game time has been paused. You may begin asking your questions now."

The sound brushed the ear like a feather—soft, lingering. Rita stared curiously in that direction. Which god was that? White Bear? The otter? Or that lady barista?

Nerves crept in. She had always known they were gods, but this was the first time she truly felt that fact pressing against her.

This temple seemed to have its own magic. The god spoke in a language Rita didn't know, yet every word she heard made sense.

"Then, I'd like to ask this god a question."

A voice burning with cold fury cut through the air.

Rita—and everyone around her—turned. The sea of players parted.

Dawn-Cicada stood there with her cello resting on the floor, as casually as if it were an old sword. She tilted her chin slightly, staring straight up at the god who had just spoken.

She was trying to control herself, but her voice still trembled faintly. Not from fear. Not from awe. From rage.

"My question is, why didn't you favor Beacon."

"When Beacon was invaded, why didn't you alter the invasion sequence so we could catch our breath?"

"When Beacon shattered, why did you refuse my wager?"

"My question is, why did you favor BS-Rita—why did you stage all of this for her—why do you sit up there on a throne and use your indifference toward Vineborne to parade your fairness and justice?"

"That's what I want to ask."

"You, high and mighty god, Deceitful Bloom. Pick any one of those and answer."

The temple fell utterly silent. Players held their breath, looking back and forth between Dawn-Cicada, BS-Rita, and that god.

Even the seven other shadows on the surrounding thrones turned to look at the one called Deceitful Bloom.

Every question hit Rita's mind like a hammer blow, bringing back every doubt she had ever tried to bury.

Why?

Why did Dawn-Cicada hate a god this much?

Which god had once created a second Vine for her?

Why hadn't Dawn-Cicada cared about her at all during Card Swap, yet changed completely once that game ended?

Why had Dawn-Cicada suddenly locked onto Lania Kaia… and onto her?

Was the wager with the gods nothing but a cruel joke? Giving her hope, then quietly updating the invasion sequence so that even if she won, BS- would only earn a one- or two-year reprieve?

Rita stared at the figure on the fourth throne, heart pounding faster and faster. She felt like a criminal awaiting sentence, and somehow her gaze carried a trace of desperate hope, like a mortal praying for the storm to pass them by.

She had already reached a conclusion in her own mind, and the next moment confirmed it.

The figure rose slowly. The flowing god-robes around her shimmered with light as she stepped forward out of shadow, revealing her face.

Silver hair cascading to her ankles. Beauty so unreal it stole the breath from anyone who saw her. Vines slid along the black god-robes, twisting and looping, making the entire garment look deliciously disordered.

If Dawn-Cicada was sanctity blended with shadow, then this Vineborne god stood on the far edge of something else entirely. She lured you wordlessly to follow her, somewhere you couldn't name and didn't need to. The instant you saw her, your heart sank and burned for her. Her beauty exceeded any human language. Her gaze, when it landed on you, felt like a caress.

Rita shut her feverish eyes.

The final puzzle piece.

She heard Deceitful Bloom answer Dawn-Cicada in that unhurried tone. "Every act of a god is monitored by Divine Game. No player may benefit from a god's favoritism."

She heard Dawn-Cicada's rebuttal. "Do you think I hate you for favoritism? No. I hate you because you refused to favor Beacon. I hate myself for worshipping a god who doesn't love her own kind. Do you deserve it? My jealousy, my resentment, my faith—do you deserve any of that?"

Deceitful Bloom's gaze lingered not on Dawn-Cicada, but on BS-Rita, who stood quietly with her eyes closed. She should have been looking at Dawn-Cicada, yet at this moment BS-Rita was impossible to ignore.

BS-Rita had always been impossible to ignore. Players or Mechanoids, anyone who met her found their eyes drawn to her, unable to look away.

She was like a beautiful, mysterious snowbound city. If you passed through, you left footprints. But no matter how loudly you called, all that ever came back was your own echo. Step away for even a moment and snow would cover your tracks, readying the ground for someone else's.

Had Deceitful Bloom never favored BS-Rita? She had. And yet, from Rita's mouth, it had been reduced to a single offhand line: to you, we're just apples.

Deceitful Bloom was just about to speak when BS-Rita answered Dawn-Cicada instead.

She looked at no one, her voice as soft as a breeze. "How are you so sure she's the one who orchestrated the BS- wager and the invasion sequence update?"

Dawn-Cicada didn't look back. Her eyes stayed locked on Deceitful Bloom as she answered coldly, "Divine Skill."

Rita opened her eyes and met Deceitful Bloom's gaze head-on. Emotions churned in her eyes. The usual hint of laughter, the habitual curiosity—both were gone. In their place was something deep and glacial. Yet her voice carried a bright, almost amused lilt, as if she'd just heard a joke she couldn't wait to retell, her laugh still hanging on the last syllables.

"Then that's perfect," she said. "Because that means the one she's been favoring… was always you."

"The two things you hate most weren't done for me. They were for you. For Vineborne."

"She didn't save Beacon not because she didn't want to, but because she couldn't. Divine Game is watching."

"And now she's making it up to you. The BS wager put me in your sights. Updating the invasion sequence let you claim me. She wants Dawn to merge with BS. She wants me to become Dawn-Rita and fight for Dawn—a Dawn that already belongs completely to you."

"She was never favoring me."

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