Chapter 21

"Hmph, you got lucky this time. Next time, I’ll reclaim everything—with interest."

After the duel ended and Isabella was teleported out of the arena, she patted her chest, heart still racing—the familiar soft, full sensation eased her breath.

But the proud young lady, who always valued her reputation, felt too humiliated to stay after losing the match; she politely bid Dorothy farewell with reluctant hesitation, preparing to leave with her two attendants—yet before departing, she glared fiercely at the smug Alice and spat out a threat.

Of course, Alice wasn’t the least bit intimidated.

"Hehe, give up already, fatty fish. You’ll never stand a chance in this lifetime."

The little witch stuck out her tongue playfully, making the blue-haired miss nearly throw her white glove at her again.

"Sis, how was my performance? Wasn’t I awesome?"

After the fuming Isabella left, Alice turned to Dorothy with a pouty, begging-for-praise expression—like a golden retriever wagging its tail for affection.

Dorothy, unimpressed, gave her a sharp knuckle rap to the forehead—making the little witch clutch her head and yelp in pain.

"Ow! Sis, what was that for? I won, didn’t I?"

Alice rubbed her forehead, protesting.

"Win? You’re lucky to still be standing. You walked straight into that obvious trap from the start. If Isabella hadn’t slipped up with her old cannon habit, you’d’ve been one-shot—no chance for any last-second comeback. You just got lucky this time."

Dorothy scolded her foolish little sister without mercy.

The final moment of the duel looked thrilling and caught Isabella off guard—but Dorothy saw clearly: this was pure gambling with her life.

When Isabella’s Sea Dragon Cannon struck Alice, it inflicted massive damage—but also shattered the water prison, granting the little witch a fleeting instant of freedom. That split-second was all she needed to activate her innate ability and pull off the miraculous escape.

But all of it depended on Isabella choosing the Sea Dragon Cannon as her finishing move. Though a sixth-circle spell with immense power, it’s technically a sustained AoE damage spell—a standard artillery-type technique, excellent for crowd control but lacking in single-target burst.

That long sea dragon? Only its head actually hit Alice. The rest of its body and tail? Mostly air. That’s why Alice survived—she tanked it with her high HP.

But what if Isabella had chosen a simple, brutal single-target spell instead? Say, the Sixth-Circle Absolute Freezing Ray? Alice would’ve frozen solid on the spot, encased in ice alongside the water prison—becoming an ice amber. No last-second comeback. No flashy last-hope counterattack.

Besides, this was just a duel—not a real battlefield. Pulling off last-second comebacks like that is a deadly taboo in combat. You never know when a low-health enemy might land a finishing blow. Too reckless. This habit must be corrected—especially since Alice is an armed witch. She’ll face real battles eventually. If she doesn’t fix this now, Dorothy feared she might soon be attending her sister’s funeral.

Facing this merciless scolding, Alice—who had been smug moments ago—slumped, defeated.

"Hmph, meanie sis. If you’re so good, why don’t you fight yourself? All talk, no action."

The little witch muttered under her breath.

"What did you say?"

Dorothy frowned, raising her voice a notch.

"I said, Big Sis is absolutely right—I’ll never do it again. Please teach me the proper way to fight. If you’d been in my place against Isabella, what would you have done?"

Alice instantly lifted her head, beaming a sweet, ingratiating smile.

"I’m not an armed witch. Why would I waste my time dueling people?"

Dorothy shook her head, exasperated.

"Just... hypothetically. I mean, suppose."

Using her little-sister charm was devastatingly effective.

Who could refuse such a cute sister? Dorothy had no choice but to mentally simulate the battle scene.

If she’d been standing in Alice’s position?

emmmm........

"Probably, the duel would’ve ended the moment it started."

After careful simulation, Dorothy replied.

Alice fell silent at her sister’s answer. Long moments passed before the little witch sighed.

"Sis, I’ll protect you properly from now on."

The duel ended immediately—meaning Sister would’ve been one-shot.

Sigh. There was nothing to be done. After all, Sister was a half-witch—her growth was inherently slow. Though Alice had once reassured her that theoretical limits were roughly equal, just a slight head start difference, in truth, very few half-witches in the witch world had ever closed that gap.

Sister was already sixteen, and barely met the Witch Academy’s entry threshold of 10,000 Mana. Alice, at thirteen, already had nearly 190,000 Mana. Even Isabella, a pure-blood witch, had around 180,000.

With such a vast Mana gap—and Sister not being an armed witch to begin with—it was only natural she’d be instantly obliterated.

Why did I even ask that? It’s like rubbing salt into Sister’s wound.

The little witch regretted it deeply—and silently vowed: from now on, she would protect her sister with all her might. Her sister’s future? That was her duty to guard.

"Alright, Sis, let’s go buy materials. It’s getting late—we still need to pick up the broom and our uniforms."

Afraid Dorothy might sink into sadness, Alice quickly changed the subject.

Dorothy: "..."

She didn’t know what Alice was thinking now—but she didn’t care to ask.

For a homebody like her, today’s outing had already been long enough. The gossip was over. The sooner they finished shopping and got home, the better.

The rest of the shopping went smoothly.

The magic supply shop sold pre-packaged Witch Academy Starter Material Kits—large quantity, good quality, and with a student discount. Perfect. Dorothy bought three without hesitation—one for preview, one for class, one for review. Perfect.

After buying materials, Alice eagerly dragged Dorothy to the flying broom specialty shop. The little witch greeted the shopkeeper—a witch in a leather jacket, jeans, and a wild hairstyle who looked like a biker—like an old friend, then demanded she bring out the best hidden stock for her sister to see...

But Dorothy, far more experienced, silenced this racing-obsessed sister with a glance, then smiled and asked the shopkeeper to recommend the best-value classic model.

She had no intention of spending extra on a broom. Her staff had already broken the budget. A broom was just transportation—no need to waste money. As long as it worked, that was enough.

She rarely left home. She bought the broom only for commuting around the academy in the coming years. The academy banned racing. High-end racing brooms were utterly unnecessary.

Besides, she didn’t even like riding brooms. Just like some people preferred motorcycles and others cars, Alice was a classic bike fanatic, while Dorothy favored smoother, more comfortable transport.

She planned to save up for an air island, then buy a magical carriage—preferably a luxury model with internal space expansion, like a mobile home. Riding such a vehicle was true luxury. Who wanted to ride a broom every day, exposed to wind, sun, and rain?

Amid Alice’s constant complaints of "Sis, you have no taste!" the sisters left the broom shop, retrieved their tailored uniforms, finished shopping, and flew home together.

Notably, the tailor, Miss Mary, strongly urged Dorothy to try on the uniform for fit, saying adjustments could be made if needed—but Dorothy politely declined.

Hehe. With accurate body measurements, a witch’s tailoring could never produce ill-fitting clothes. She didn’t believe this tailor’s flimsy excuse.

Thanks to the new broom, the return trip was much faster. The sisters chatted and laughed as they flew, and soon the familiar private air island came into view.

But...

"Huh? Did we have visitors?"

Alice stared curiously at the extra carriage parked on the air island’s landing pad. Judging by its materials and craftsmanship, this was unmistakably the kind of luxury carriage Sister had dreamed of—no, even beyond what she dared imagine. The little witch suspected this carriage cost several times more than their entire air island. She wondered why such a wealthy person would visit their home.

But Dorothy immediately recognized the crest on the carriage’s side. Her expression darkened.

"Damn. It can’t be that guy showing up again."