In the years Kasilanar 129 through 132, Moonlight Marsh took home the team championship in the Divine Game every single year.
In the photos, you could see a young elf and a druid, standing with their three teammates.
In the pictures from 129 to 131, the elf always had a cocky, reckless grin plastered across her face. Even as a student, she was already tall—half a head taller than Cinders beside her. She wore the black-and-gray Moonlight Marsh uniform, a dagger hanging at her waist.
She didn’t carry herself with the seriousness expected of someone representing both Moonlight Marsh and Asaein. In every photo, she had one hand on her hip and the other pulling at Cinders’ cheek, stretching it out before letting go.
Cinders looked helpless but never annoyed. Her smile was soft as she looked at the camera, allowing the elf to mess with her.
Only in the year 132 did things change.
The elf wore a mask. She still stood in the center of the group, but this time, her arms were crossed, and her eyes—visible above the mask—were blank, emotionless.
Cinders wasn’t looking at the camera anymore. Her gaze kept drifting sideways, fixed on Lightchaser.
Rita had combed through every record and photo from those years. And now she knew she was right.
Cinders and Lightchaser weren’t just classmates. They had been friends—friends who had teamed up for multiple years to compete in the team division.
And in the years leading up to Cinders becoming GodDraw77, the champions of the individual and fun divisions were all Lightchaser.
Lightchaser had even won the fun division in her third year.
Then again in fourth, fifth, and sixth year—three years in a row. That meant she had unlocked the GodDraw77 game three times, and lost all three.
In the seventh year, Cinders became GodDraw77.
No matter how angry Rita was at Lightchaser, that woman was still the most important, most irreplaceable person in her life.
So when she looked at Cinders, something inside twisted.
Logically, she knew better. Winning the title of GodDraw77 was pure strength. There was no such thing as luck. Thinking otherwise would be an insult—not just to the title, but to Lightchaser herself, who had failed to claim it after three tries.
But emotionally? She couldn’t help it. It bothered her.
She couldn’t shake the image of Lightchaser’s cold, unreadable gray-blue eyes.
She had been so close.
GodDraw77’s gaze drifted toward the pocket where Rita kept her left hand. She could feel the lingering energy of Annihilation.
It wasn’t hard to guess who the "rabid dog" was.
And judging by the girl’s behavior, she’d probably uncovered quite a bit already.
GodDraw77 smiled and said, "Go on, your class reward is over. You’ve learned Hide and Seek. Train hard with it—it helped me a lot when I was climbing to GodDraw77."
Rita gave her a heartfelt thank you and left the lakefront cabin.
It was peak leaf-fall season. Every day she spent at least an hour collecting autumn leaves. While gathering them, she also practiced Another Me and Hide and Seek.
Snow was said to begin falling in Asaein starting in Month 15. Lately, the snowmen she built with snow from the Eternal Winter Zone were looking better and better. She planned to trade them with other students for items that guaranteed stat boosts.
Using her alchemy class as a cover, she started to show her true skill in potioncraft. Her current display was on par with most fourth-year students. Moonlight Marsh was full of low-tier potion ingredients—as long as she didn’t overharvest, the local creatures left her alone.
With the help of potions, she held steady in the SSS tier for both Defense and Healing.
Once she grew more fluent with Blazeshift, she could pair it with the instant-cast skill Calm Down a Second. Then wherever fire went, she could follow. That would finally give her the edge she needed to move up from S-tier to SS-tier in her ranged combat class.
Time suddenly felt like it was speeding up. She had too much to do every day.
Just like Lightchaser said—run, don’t walk.
On the sixth-to-last day of Kasilanar 167, students across the campus were heading home for the Winterveil holidays.
Maple Syrup and Fat Goose had left early that morning with their parents. Rita and Mistblade were now walking across the suspension bridges that connected the treetop towers, bags slung over their shoulders, preparing to leave Moonlight Marsh.
Rita asked, "Are you sure you want to go back to Gilane?"
Mistblade replied after a pause, "...I just want to take a look."
Rita wanted to say something. But then she imagined what Lightchaser would do in this situation. She thought back to the scenes she’d witnessed at the Burrowbug Tavern—what advice had ever truly helped?
In the end, the question had to be answered by the person themselves. Other people’s suggestions didn’t matter.
Mistblade wasn’t short on funds. Lightchaser had given her so much gold that, outside of daily expenses, she barely touched it. She could afford to rent one of Moonlight Marsh’s trained gryphons to fly her home.
A level-75 gryphon from Moonlight Marsh, coupled with her wearing the school uniform, was enough to keep any foolish treasure hunters at bay.
Before they parted ways, Rita told her, "If anything happens and you can’t send a message, send the gryphon to find me. You can come up with a code or something—it’ll be your backup plan."
As she spoke, she let the gryphon sniff her platinum winter scarf, then tucked it into the bag attached to the saddle. She also slipped 100 gold coins into the pack.
Mistblade mounted the gryphon and said, "I hope my dumb decision doesn’t mess up our friendship."
Rita smiled. "It won’t."
Being friends with someone who cared deeply wasn’t a bad thing. And this was Mistblade’s choice to make, not hers.
She watched as Mistblade soared into the sky.
Once she was gone, Rita started the slow walk out of Moonlight Marsh.
She hadn’t been home since the Flame Festival.
In late October, after returning to school, she’d still been mad at Lightchaser. Not that Lightchaser ever made an effort to reach out—she wouldn’t, not unless Rita wrote first.
Rita didn’t get it. Lightchaser had literally stabbed her multiple times the first time they met, and she didn’t even get mad. But now? Lightchaser had merely...
...merely stayed the same.
She was the one who had changed.
She’d gotten too attached. Started placing her own expectations on Lightchaser again.
And if she didn’t learn to stop doing that, Lightchaser would lose her patience.
Once she figured that out, she had sprinted back to the treetop towers straight after class, skipping dinner, and quickly wrote Lightchaser a letter—subtly letting her know she totally wasn’t mad anymore.
Everything was fine! She was totally cool with it! That last lesson? Amazing! Loved it so much! What a teaching method! Five stars!
The next day, Lightchaser sent back a pack of absolutely disgusting candy.
Imagine chicken breast, cooked and ground into paste, mixed with mustard, pepper, crushed nuts, lime juice, and shreds of what could only be a dirty mop rag—then dipped in chocolate.
That’s what it was. That was literal trash.
Rita was sure she was being objective about it.
At first, she thought maybe it was just bad luck. But for three straight months, the candies only got worse.
She was positive her opinion wasn’t biased. Every single classmate who tried one agreed. Eventually, she gave the entire stash to the animals of Moonlight Marsh.
And the faces those animals made when eating them... Rita couldn’t stop laughing when she remembered.
A mechanical motorcycle spun to a stop in front of her. A leg longer than Rita’s entire body propped against the ground.
"You’re walking this slow? Planning to get home on Winterveil itself?"