If the true nature of those moons was not actually moons, and not even gateways to worlds, but rather the keys to prisons, then what she had cut away all those times was naturally not moonlight in the conventional sense.

She remembered the agonizing pain in her right eye every time she gathered moonlight.

Back in Lania Kaia and High Tower, collecting moonlight had hurt so badly that she would sometimes lose consciousness.

Later, however, it became much easier.

She did not believe that was simply because her tolerance for pain had improved.

Looking back now, the more likely explanation was that she had grown stronger.

Because she was stronger, she could withstand more of a prison’s Order.

The Overseer’s Eye she desired occupied nearly the entirety of Starsea.

How was she supposed to obtain it?

Where had Order Clock come from?

If the Overseer’s Eye disappeared, how would this exile zone avoid attracting the attention of the higher-dimensional world?

For days, question after question intertwined within her mind.

Eventually, they converged into what seemed like the most plausible answer.

A replacement.

An eye transplant.

Use Cut the Moonlight to collect portions of Order from all 9,999 prisons. 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

Shape them into Order Clock.

Then use Moment of Reversal to exchange it for the Overseer’s Eye.

If Order Clock became her eye, then naturally she could establish the rules best suited for the exile zone and continue guarding it until generation after generation of Prisoners capable of revenge were born.

It would also explain why the Twelfth Epoch no longer contained an Overseer’s Eye.

It had never been hidden within Order Clock.

The future version of herself had taken it away.

And when Order Clock illuminated Starsea, her painting could finally be completed.

Although she had already cut moonlight from the First Moon back in the Twelfth Epoch, she still returned to it once more.

By now, Game Invasion had surpassed seventy percent completion.

Every Adjudicator player’s available skill slots had doubled.

Rita added Cut the Moonlight to her active abilities.

Then she flipped World Sigh to its final pages.

The last section resembled an index.

It was densely packed with Divine Talent abilities she had recorded from the gods buried within the Graveyard of Bones.

Nivalis followed behind her, unwilling to leave.

"What are you trying to do?" she asked.

"A secret technique?"

Rita shook her head with a smile.

"No."

"I’m trading."

As soon as the words left her mouth, one line within the book began to glow.

Divine Talent: Branch Cutting.

Talent Ability: Cultivation.

Temporarily sacrifice any attribute or amount of soul fire you possess to infinitely enhance a chosen skill. The degree of enhancement depends on the amount sacrificed.

Once cultivation begins, the skill enters a cultivated state.

Upon canceling cultivation, all sacrificed attributes and soul fire can be restored.

Only one skill may be cultivated at a time.

This was a rule originating from the Poem of Bird Cause.

In simple terms, it allowed someone to lock away attributes and soul fire in order to endlessly strengthen a single skill.

And right now, the thing Rita possessed in greatest abundance was soul fire.

Even if those hundreds of millions of points didn’t truly belong to her.

She only possessed the authority to mobilize and use them.

But being able to use them meant limitless possibilities.

Not only could she cultivate Cut the Moonlight.

She could also cultivate Moment of Reversal.

This was one of the key steps in her plan.

Nearly ten million unused soul fire points were poured into the ability.

Not recharged.

Temporarily sacrificed.

Instantly, Cut the Moonlight broke past the SSS rank.

It evolved from a Divine Skill into an Order Skill.

Then its rank transformed into a string of question marks.

Yet its description remained unchanged:

"When moonlight falls into your eyes, you briefly embrace the world."

As if the transformation itself was only temporary.

Satisfied with the enhancement, Rita finally activated Cut the Moonlight on the First Moon before her.

A strand of shimmering mist drifted out from the cube-shaped key and flowed toward her right eye.

Tiny stars sparkled within the mist.

Their light illuminated the vapor, making it resemble the star mist floating beyond the prisons in Starsea itself.

The familiar pain pierced her right eye.

But it was nowhere near the unbearable agony she had experienced years ago.

Rita merely frowned slightly.

Less than a minute later, the nearly solid stream of mist had been completely transferred.

The First Moon’s glow did not weaken.

Yet Rita could clearly feel an extraordinary level of control over it.

However, as she seized part of the prison’s Order, every cell within Prison Number One began trembling.

They no longer floated calmly within Starsea as though freed from gravity.

Instead, they seemed to have tasted freedom.

They became restless.

Agitated.

Trying to rush toward liberty.

The First Moon began spinning violently.

Its remaining authority struggled to maintain control over the prison chambers.

Rita sighed.

Then she and Nivalis appeared outside Prison Number One.

She looked down upon the enormous prison.

Looked down upon countless cages.

World Sigh rested obediently in her left palm.

Her right hand opened toward the prison.

Immediately, portions of the cube-shaped prison blocks floated out and drifted behind her.

The pages of World Sigh turned on their own.

Eventually, they stopped on a specific page.

Beginning there, countless words surged toward the central chamber of Prison Number One.

Toward the First Moon.

The pages that contained the stories of the Scrap Zone and the Mechanoids gradually became blank.

As the words and stories poured into the moon, the prison chambers began shrinking.

One by one, they flew into the First Moon.

Into the Scrap Zone.

World Sigh recorded stories.

But the prison chambers themselves were the true foundation that could become worlds.

God-level players and world leaders appeared above various prisons to witness the moment.

Many players secretly observed BS Rita’s expression.

The moment had finally arrived.

Earlier than anyone had expected.

Rita lowered her gaze.

She watched the birth of the first world with complete concentration.

Only when everything was finished did Nivalis ask curiously:

"What do you need those prison chambers for?"

"Are they going to become those... starting rooms?"

She carefully avoided mentioning Divine Game.

As though she had reached a point where anger toward certain beings had become futile, Rita let out another long sigh.

"There are only 9,999 prisons here."

"9,999 moons."

Meanwhile, including the Scrap Zone, chaotic Starsea possessed ten thousand worlds.

Ten thousand harbors.

Nivalis gasped.

"One is missing!"

Exactly.

Why was there one missing?

The missing world could be assembled by taking a few chambers from each of the 9,999 cube prisons.

But what about the missing moon?

And as though fate itself had arranged everything in advance—

Rita just happened to be carrying a complete moon with her.

Wrathful Moon floated to her side.

It gently rubbed against her cheek.

Within the lantern, the Moon of BS shone brightly.

Everything was becoming increasingly absurd.

Rita almost wanted to ask whether fate had orchestrated an elaborate scam specifically to target her.

Damn it.

Was this supposed to be the salvation of Starsea and Quiet Mountain—

Or was someone conducting an asset liquidation on her entire life?