This Life, I Will Be the Protagonist

After signing the debt agreements with Moonlight Marsh on behalf of her apprentices, GodDraw77 finally left.

Only when her figure disappeared from sight did Mistblade turn to Motor and say what she had been holding back. "Are you really sure it's only Cinnabar who hates you, and you don't care?"

Motor silently reverted to vehicle form. Its headlights, shaped like eyes, glowed with sorrow as it glanced at her—then it switched on auto-drive and rolled away.

Mistblade: "…"

She pressed a hand to her chest. "Ugh, I think my conscience just twinged," she confessed to her three remaining teammates.

Rita thought for a moment. "If it were me, I'd probably want the stronger base form. Skills can always be learned later, but the difference between Motor and Cinnabar's mech is too big."

"I'd pick divine gift," Maple Syrup said, shaking her head. "Only high-tier gifts grant attribute growth skills. Relying on random items bought off other apprentices to boost stats is way too slow."

Rita, who had both [I Just Want to Improve So Badly] and [Moment of Reversal], didn't argue. But if she hadn't, she knew she would've chosen an S-rank divine gift as well.

"I'd go with divine gift too," Fat Goose agreed. "Sure, right now Cinnabar can crush Motor. But in a few years… who knows?"

Mistblade winced at the comparison between Motor and the mech. "I'd still pick the mech. You can always grind attributes."

Rita pointed out what they all sensed already. "I think both of them regret it."

Maple Syrup added, "But even if they could trade back, they wouldn't. I mean, if trading back was even possible."

A voice answered from the shadows of the corner. "It is possible. But you're right—we've never suggested it."

The four turned their heads toward the dented Motor parked against the wall.

Mistblade asked curiously, "So if one of you killed the other, you could reclaim what was taken? Combine into the perfect Titan?"

Motor shook its chassis. "No. Killing the other doesn't return anything. What we did back then wasn't theft—it was a trade. To take back what was ours, we'd have to give back what isn't."

Mistblade frowned. "Then why do you two always fight to the death?"

Half the damage in Burrowbug Tavern had been their fault. Their share of the fines had been the largest.

"Because every victory, every honor one of us earns, makes the other imagine—what if that had been mine? Only if the other disappears completely can we focus solely on ourselves. No more torment, no more regret, no more endless what-ifs."

Motor's lights dimmed. "I know Cinnabar thinks the same."

…

After wandering Dalaran a bit longer, the group returned to Golden Hills.

Rita's mind had finally relaxed after parsing Mistblade's weapon skill. But the empty slots in her shopping cart from the team match were already full again—most of them thanks to one opponent, Syntax.

And they were interesting ones.

During their fight, she'd frozen Syntax with [Brief Hibernation], yet every time she struck, a crude white "X" appeared above his head. A child's doodle of an X—but it blocked her, making her attacks ineffective for three whole seconds.

Her cart now held alternating skills, like puzzle pieces: [Words as Spells] and [Auto-Reply].

The first let spoken words briefly manifest as truth. How long the effect lasted, and how strong it was, depended on the weight of the words themselves.

The second stored a chosen skill, which would auto-trigger if the player was knocked out or controlled, unleashing itself when attacked.

Rita couldn't help but think of Mistblade's blood-mist weapon skill. Both turned concepts into tangible force.

Mistblade conjured weapons from blood mist. Syntax turned speech into reality.

She tracked down Motor again and traded—eight cups of [Wrong Season], each worth a single attribute point, for ten analyses.

Back in her room, she shut the door and got to work.

The night rose, the Kimbori outside glowing in the dark. Rita, buried in parchment, sketching and piecing together theories, suddenly had a bubble pop around her. Reflexively, she triggered her S-rank [Flash Step], vanishing from her chair.

From the rooftop corner, she stared at the shadow by her wardrobe.

Lightchaser.

Joy surged in her chest. "Teacher!"

"Good reaction." Lightchaser walked calmly to the desk, pulled out the chair, and sat. She flipped through Rita's notes without comment, then said, "I thought you'd wait until after the Divine Game to sell that artifact to your friend."

Rita dropped down, crossing the room to the window where GodDraw77 had stood last night. She answered honestly. "I don't have enough reliable weapon-conjuring skills for the Divine Game. The ones I learned in Moonlight Marsh aren't enough."

Just like Mistblade and Fat Goose endlessly hunting for flight skills and items, she'd tried to gather weapon-making skills before. But most shattered mid-battle. Weaker than any offensive spell.

Lightchaser lifted her gaze from the notes to Rita's face. Her lips curved in faint amusement. "That's all? At this rate, you'll have a skill ready by the Harvest Festival in March."

She could see the strain. Rita had made the trade in the morning, another in the evening. The sheer amount of knowledge couldn't be sorted in less than a day. She'd definitely used time-stop—and not just once.

Rita went silent for a few seconds, then added, "The real reason is… if it were you, you wouldn't waste time hesitating. You wouldn't be this timid. So I shouldn't either."

She had listened to GodDraw77's words. She wouldn't spiral into self-doubt anymore. She wouldn't stall.

But she wouldn't stop following Lightchaser's path either.

If she wanted to learn to conjure weapons with skills, then she'd damn well learn. She wouldn't lose.

Lightchaser withdrew her gaze and returned it to the notebook.

Rita grinned like a child who'd pulled off a prank, then quickly lowered her eyes when Lightchaser looked back at her.

Lightchaser sighed inwardly. Fine. Not worth calling her out.

She said, "I might have something that can help. [Brainstorm]. It multiplies your speed of thought and logical deduction by ten. With your current intelligence, knowledge, and progress, one [Brainstorm] should be enough for you to grasp the skill you're chasing."

Then her voice shifted.

"But… it does have a tiny side effect."