This Life, I Will Be the Protagonist-Chapter 1231 Divine Game: Divine Instruction 45
The new round of duels had begun, yet the spectator stand where Rita stood was unusually quiet.
Mistblade and Maple Syrup’s display, and the evolution of their divine talent words, were plain for everyone to see. There was nothing left to question.
But Rita couldn’t help hoping someone would ask.
Dawn Cicada, ever the opportunist for a good show, had ceded her spot. Now, Rita found herself in a "V" formation—Maple Syrup to her left, Mistblade to her right. A familiar arrangement.
She stared blankly at the duel unfolding in the clock arena, watching unfamiliar players move and strike.
When a flurry of skills erupted in the arena, Maple Syrup suddenly spoke.
"Did your flower wilt because you feared that if I executed the Moon Foxes, Mistblade would take it out on you? Or because you knew clearly... that if I executed them in front of you, you’d never look at me the same way again?"
Hearing that someone had done something cruel was one thing. Seeing it with your own eyes was entirely another. Autumn Deer was far away, but the Moon Foxes lived in BS.
What Rita didn’t realize was that, whether Mistblade, herself, Dawn Cicada, Kessa, or Fury Prayer... all the leaders, when looking at this Adjudicator, saw her as if peering into an untouchable, naive dream.
On that war cruise ship, BS Rita had created a miracle—a miracle only she could have.
Every other player had accepted invasion and being invaded. Only she had chosen to escape. Her hands were free of blood, she had not invaded any world, and therefore bore no guilt. She could leave the sea of sin unburdened, with everyone’s blessing.
Maple Syrup’s question lingered. Rita stayed silent, deaf and mute.
Maple Syrup continued, speaking as if to herself:
"Probably the former, right? You didn’t react as strongly when Mistblade executed the undead. Seems a bit unfair, doesn’t it? Back at Moonlight Marsh, you..."
"Wrong."
Maple Syrup’s words were cut off, not by BS Rita, but by Mistblade. She stared straight ahead and said calmly, "There’s no unfairness. When the Moon Foxes executed the Owls, her reaction was exactly the same. She has seen the World Sighs of Snowfield and Forest Sea. That’s all. Don’t push her."
Don’t force her to admit even a trace of pity or sympathy for invaders. BS Rita couldn’t face it. That comic notion of "goodness" was an unforgivable error and betrayal in her eyes.
Maple Syrup understood the last word. Since Mistblade herself had come forward, she would not be polite.
"You don’t care about winning or ranking, only about what you gain. So back in the Player Relic game, did you deliberately lose to her too?"
"Whether I say ’yes’ or ’no,’ you wouldn’t believe me. Why bother answering?"
Both the Owl and Moon Fox leaders, arms crossed, suddenly acted, restraining BS Rita as she tried to quietly step back from the arena.
Pinned in place in a bow stance, Rita blinked, slowly raising her eyes to meet two pairs of steady gazes. She said dryly, "Looks like you two get along pretty well, huh? Haha."
Neither the Owl nor the Moon Fox spoke—they just stared quietly.
Rita tried to disengage: "...Talk among yourselves. Don’t mind me."
But the two hands held her firmly in place, and they continued their conversation right over her, ignoring her entirely.
A few meters away, Lightchaser and Ash Cinders watched their respective apprentices silently.
Lightchaser shook her head slightly, sighing, "Still not grown up."
Ash Cinders turned, giving Lightchaser a strange look.
That odd feeling again. Something was up. Lightchaser frowned. "If there’s something, just say it."
Ash Cinders, trying not to involve herself, nodded seriously. "Her mind carries more than most students, but she still hasn’t grown up. Someone with a little experience can read her."
"Who are you kidding? You don’t need experience to read her. She’s just hard to approach."
Ash Cinders, unwilling to discuss her apprentice publicly, changed the topic: "What’s your divine talent word?"
"’Lost.’" Lightchaser didn’t hide it, didn’t bother concealing. Then she countered, "And you? Found yours?"
"Yes. Binast’s life was uneventful. Compared to them, it was child’s play. What mattered came and went—easy to find."
"Right, right. A regret that spans our entire lives is easy to find, so... what is it?" Lightchaser noticed Ash Cinders evading the question, but she wasn’t about to let it go. She looked at the top of Ash Cinders’ head and asked again, "What is it?"
"...Has anyone ever said you’re too domineering?"
"That kid used to say it every day. So? What is it?"
"Can’t you let others have a little secret?"
"You and Rita aren’t the same. Be happy. Not everything is worth asking over and over."
"So I should feel proud because of your nitpicking? Should I say thank you?"
"You’re dodging again. Is this question really that hard? Or you just don’t want me to know?"
"’Wordless.’" Ash Cinders met Lightchaser’s gaze with a look of faint resignation, repeating the word. "Wordless."
For a moment, Lightchaser looked puzzled. Just for a heartbeat. Then the confusion melted into a hint of awkwardness.
The battle on the arena had ended. No player had yet fully grasped their divine talent word. They were teleported back to the stands.
A new round of matchups began scrolling.
A crescent moon, paired with a butterfly wing.
Isolated Isle Lightchaser versus Isolated Isle Ash Cinders.
The two opponents shifted locations, continuing their gaze.
Ash Cinders calmly and mercilessly offered a detailed explanation to the question:
"Whenever someone notices I dislike the name GodDraw77 and asks why, I run out of words."
The regret that spans your life is precisely mine.
And I cannot tell anyone what my regret really is.
"That year, when GodDraw77 ended the Lightchaser moment, I said I hated that title—no one would believe me. It would only make me seem false...
"But it was full of flaws. It was built on the regrets of my friends’ lives. It was a gift from fate. I hated it, despised it, loathed it."
Above the clock arena, only the sound of the ticking pointer remained.
