Chapter 19: Battle Robes and Traps

From a mortal’s perspective, the duel below the arena appeared as nothing more than two streaks of red and blue light colliding at incredible speeds; mortal eyes could not possibly track the witches’ movements, let alone discern the details of the fight.

Fortunately, Dorothy was no mortal; as a witch, she did not even need to activate any ocular magic—she could effortlessly follow the movements of the two witches below with her bare eyes.

And if she merely infused a trace of magic into her eyes, even this simplest of enhancements—barely even qualifying as a spell—would make everything in her vision seem as if time had slowed, unfolding like slow motion.

This was Dorothy’s innate talent as a high-sensitivity witch.

Thus, Dorothy could clearly see the true forms of the red and blue streaks entwined below in the arena.

The red light was Alice, the blue light Isabella; both witches were now riding their flying brooms at high speed, and their attire differed significantly from before.

Alice wore a robe as vividly red as blood—not an ordinary everyday magic robe, but a battle robe, its fabric thick and sturdy, with extra armor plating reinforced at vital points: shoulders, joints, forearms, chest, and even the hem of her skirt, layered with overlapping plates of armor; peering through the gaps as the battle skirt swayed, one could faintly glimpse her legs clad in greaves and long battle boots.

This was no mage’s attire—it was clearly heavy infantry armor.

Yet Isabella’s attire was similar: the same armored battle robe, comparable protective coverage, only in blue; her armor plates were not the heavy plate mail like Alice’s, but rather resembled fish-scale armor, making her gear noticeably lighter, and the form-fitting design of the fish-scale battle armor unmistakably revealed the figure of this prematurely matured girl.

Though their attire seemed anything but mage-like, it was perfectly witch-like—such armored battle robes were common among armed witches.

According to the detailed breakdown of armed witch battle robes that Dorothy had studied before, their full ensemble consisted of four layers.

The innermost layer was a custom-fitted bodysuit, the thinnest of all, woven from supernatural threads, offering breathability, warmth, exceptional resilience, and notable defensive capability.

Over the bodysuit lay the battle robe, crafted from tanned monster hides, typically styled like a magic robe to fully cover the witch’s body; the monster-hide robe provided strong magical resistance, effectively mitigating certain magical damage.

Outside the battle robe came the external armor—various types: plate, chain, fish-scale—all selectable, but generally composed of helmet, shoulder guards, breastplate, gauntlets, skirt armor, greaves, and battle boots.

Over the armor, some wealthy witches added a cloak or cape; such a garment not only provided warmth but also bore engraved special arrays that effectively defended against ranged piercing attacks, and some master-crafted capes offered additional benefits like enhanced stealth or increased movement speed.

Of course, the most important point was that it looked good—cool, especially when embroidered with one’s personal insignia, making one instantly recognizable.

Bodysuit, battle robe, armor, cloak—these four layers were the standard armed witch outfit; together, they were heavy enough that an ordinary mortal would struggle to walk a few steps in them, yet witches’ formidable physiques allowed them to wear the full ensemble as if it were ordinary clothing, still moving with lightning speed.

Of course, this was the battlefield standard; for arena duels, there was a fifth layer: the Duel Blessing.

This was a specialized composite spell unique to the arena, directly applied to the witch’s skin, detecting her vitality and generating an equivalent amount of false life based on the measured data.

Thus, the thickness of the false life would be displayed in real time above the arena, like a health bar in a game; damage sustained during combat would deplete the false life, and when it reached zero, the witch was declared defeated, instantly enveloped in an invincible state and teleported out of the arena.

Both Alice and Isabella below now bore the Duel Blessing, their false life bars visible above the arena.

Alice’s false life was 190,000; Isabella’s was a pitiful 90,000-plus.

There was no helping it: Alice, as a Storm Witch, was the classic high-health, high-defense, high-damage template—just with short range; Isabella, by contrast, was a rare artillery-type witch, maximizing range and damage, but with relatively average health and defense.

The current arena situation favored Alice: the little witch, her rage fully stacked, was now fully accelerating on her broom, relentlessly chasing Isabella across the entire arena.

Though elite artillery witches, like archers, possessed decent close-combat skills and could easily outmatch ordinary Storm Witches, Isabella, as Alice’s lifelong rival, knew her opponent’s capabilities all too well—she was fully aware she could never win a melee against that muscle-bound brute, so her sole aim was to maintain distance and exploit her own strengths.

As a white, rich, and beautiful girl, Isabella had no lack of funds; her equipment was always top-tier, including her flying broom—a brand-new model from the renowned manufacturer Tian Su, with a top speed of 5 Mach, slightly faster than Alice’s Wing 6000 model’s 4.5 Mach.

Logically, Isabella, with her equipment advantage, should have easily pulled away—but in reality, the distance between them was rapidly closing.

“Fat salty fish, you’re dead. Blood Rage Mode—activate.”

Alice, brimming with murderous intent, grinned fiercely, her lips parted to reveal two sharp fangs; her emerald eyes now glowed crimson, her entire body wreathed in blood-red magic—she looked every inch a villainous dark lord.

As a Storm Witch with short range, high mobility was an excellent way to compensate; thus, Alice became an avid broom racer, and no racer’s mount would ever go unmodified—factory performance specs were meaningless now.

As Alice increased her magic input, her broom entered overdrive mode: its tail swelled, the single flame jet split into three, and raw, violent magic translated into ultimate speed.

The red streak, once lagging, suddenly surged forward, becoming a crimson meteor of finality, directly slamming into the blue streak ahead.

“Ahahaha...”

On the roaring broom, Alice now held her dual black-and-white staff-guns, laughing freely as she aimed at her longtime nemesis, now within range.

“Goodbye, Isabella.”

Alice’s lips moved silently, pronouncing the verdict.

Then came two gunshots—explosive magic rounds shot straight toward Isabella’s terrified face.

Clearly, the outcome...

“Damn...”

The little witch, who had been smirking triumphantly, suddenly paled; she slammed on the brakes, instinctively trying to turn—but it was too late. A broom hurtling at such speed was impossible to control instantly; she could not halt her momentum and was carried forward by inertia.

Ahead, beyond the dense forest, a vast lake came into view.

The blue-haired young lady, who had just moments before been terrified, now smirked; she tilted her head, barely avoiding the two magic rounds aimed at her skull, then snapped her fingers with elegant precision.

The next instant, from below the lake, waves erupted, water swirling wildly...