This Life, I Will Be the Protagonist-Chapter 1232 Divine Game: Divine Instruction 46

Cinders had half-expected Lightchaser to snap back with her usual sharp tongue, to declare in that arrogant way that she bore no responsibility for anyone else’s life. Even a few cutting jabs, like "Too many people got stuck in the Lightchaser moment already, one more won’t matter," would have sufficed.

But Lightchaser said nothing. She simply stood there in silence. She knew she shouldn’t say sorry, but she didn’t know what else to say.

The questions about GodDraw77 left Cinders speechless, and seeing Lightchaser clutch her daggers with that uncertain expression, she couldn’t even find the words.

The broad sword touched the ground with a soft clang, and Cinders lowered her voice. "If you see me as a friend, then give it your all."

The mention of battle seemed to relax Lightchaser instantly. The daggers twirled in her hands, and she said solemnly, "Of course."

Blades clashed and eyes locked, both sets of eyes shining with the thrill of combat, just like back in the GodDraw77 days.

Years had passed. Their combat styles had evolved, their abilities changed, but the essence remained. Cinders relied on her greatsword for close combat, switching between three stances to adapt.

What caught her off guard was Lightchaser. She had once fought with three daggers from start to finish—main, off-hand, and a poisoned auxiliary. Only after acquiring a masterwork greatsword had she begun learning new weapons for amusement. Yet even then, she was a melee fighter through and through.

Now? Lightchaser was blending magic into her melee style. Between dagger strikes, she wove in arcane attacks she’d seldom used before. Her rhythm remained flawless; the magical attacks were all spell rings.

Whenever her boots hit the ground, an attack ring spread outward from the impact point. Visually, it seemed like a single glowing circle, but in reality, it was a magical wall. Even leaping into the air couldn’t dodge it.

In addition, a glowing clockhand circled her, emitting white light like a tiny flying companion, darting around her ears, sides, and feet. No face, only three hands—hour, minute, second—pointing roughly to 4:29:38.

Cinders quickly realized the purpose of this clockhand.

When her greatsword struck Lightchaser, nothing happened. A successful hit, yet Lightchaser’s HP remained at 492. But the glowing clockhand moved—a single second ticked forward.

It could steal time?

Cinders asked aloud, incredulous.

Lightchaser answered generously, "Yes. It stole the second from your attack."

Cinders groaned, "Disgusting. You make me want to vomit."

Thankfully, the clockhand wasn’t constantly active and could be countered. When a ring radiated outward from Lightchaser, Cinders sent out red strands of energy from her fingertips. In an instant, the ring collapsed back, exploding near Lightchaser like a concentrated push.

Lightchaser muttered, "...You’re not bad either."

Cinders grinned. "Thanks, my cooking teacher showed me this trick."

"No wonder. I knew the first time I met her at Quiet Mountain that she wasn’t to be trusted."

"You might want to look in a mirror."

Cinders wasn’t joking. As she spoke, she activated her skill, Cinders·White Snow. Snowflakes fell, her greatsword crystallizing. Each swing reflected Lightchaser’s face.

Lightchaser scowled, "Just a few lessons and you’re already shielding your new teacher?!"

Cinders replied casually, "Consider it a friendly reminder. In the ’looks like trouble’ department, you’re second to none."

This was a match among familiar faces; verbal jabs were mandatory.

But everyone could see Cinders was falling behind. Even though she could counter Lightchaser’s ever-changing skill rings, Lightchaser’s hybrid combat style—mixing magic with melee—kept her a step ahead.

At times, during blade-to-blade clashes, Lightchaser’s daggers transformed into magical elements, weaving or exploding along the contact points, completing an attack mid-strike. Many seemingly perfect attacks or defenses became bait for Lightchaser’s next move.

The peculiar time-stealing clockhand ensured even meticulously planned strikes occasionally failed. The frustration and helplessness she had felt as a youth against Lightchaser resurfaced.

It was that same sense of helplessness and defeat that made her struggle to accept losing—the victory felt snatched from her by Lightchaser, a gift of fate forcibly handed over.

452:273.

Yet Cinders showed no discouragement. She had reached this stage, surviving countless battles in Divine Game. Even with the special battle mechanics, her strength and skill were undeniable.

When her HP dropped to 100, Cinders spoke, "By now, you must have guessed what my divine talent word does."

Lightchaser paused, meeting her friend’s gaze. "I’m looking forward to it."

Cinders smiled for the first time since the fight began. "Me too."

A mirage-like spectator stand appeared beside the arena.

"Wordless"—back to the beginning.

Cinders’ talent targeted a single enemy, preventing them from using any skill or mana.

Fearless, Lightchaser met the strike. She caught Cinders’ greatsword and chuckled, "You could use it too."

Just like the previous duels, she could have used the window of time when her opponent was silenced to launch a full combo.

Cinders merely shook her head silently.

So the two began dueling like ordinary warriors, without awakened divine talents, relying solely on weapons.

Compared to the dazzling skill rings, counters, and abilities from earlier, this duel was simple, almost mundane.

Yet they were immersed, as if back at Moonlight Marsh in their first year.

Back then, just-awakened cubs with little mana, few skills, and desperate to prove themselves, clumsily sparred behind the tree towers with wooden sticks.

To make it look epic, they even made Zhulguang and the Black Cat shake nearby bushes for effect.

Ten seconds later, the mirage spectator stands vanished.

The Wordless skill ended.

But Lightchaser and Cinders continued as if nothing had changed, exchanging the most basic attacks with relentless precision.

333:72

"The GodDraw77 moment—I didn’t let you have it."

"I know."

317:51

"I can’t apologize to you either."

"I know."

282:37

"Losing to you that year wasn’t dissatisfaction with you—it was dissatisfaction with myself."

"I know."

246:1

"Want me to say the phrase I loved to repeat as a kid?"

"Go ahead."

"Remember this moment. Losing to Lightchaser is your honor."

"Hahaha, no matter how many times I hear it, it still sounds cheesy."

[Congratulations, player Isolated Isle Lightchaser wins]