Chapter 259

"Magic mirror, magic mirror, who is the witch clad in battle armor, heroic and magnificent, though newly appointed, yet destined to shake the Tribunal with her name?"

In the changing room of the armory, a figure asked the mirror thus.

"Of course, it's me, the Great Joker!"

The figure then lifted her head and puffed out her chest, pointing her thumb at herself with a proud grin as she gave this definitive answer.

The one-meter-tall mirror then reflected the image of this fully armed witch.

Her body was covered in a battle armor that looked utterly extraordinary: black armor plates overlaid with crimson magical rune circuits, their design bold and futuristic—unlike the heavy, rounded forms of traditional knight armor, every plate flowed with sleek, angular lines, hugging the body tightly, exuding a sci-fi battle suit aesthetic.

Beneath the armor lay a magi-resistant robe of matching red-and-black hues; its high-grade fabric shimmered with faint glimmers upon close inspection, unmistakably exceptional in quality, perfectly fitted in length and size, accentuating the magnificent figure within with every movement.

The witch then turned around, her cloak—black outside, red inside—swaying slightly, revealing two blood-red draconic characters stitched onto its back: JUDGMENT.

"Wow, no wonder this is the Grand Inquisitor's exclusive battle armor—this is top-tier armor, just one step away from legendary status! So cool, so incredibly cool! And the defense, the security, the comfort—I never want to take it off."

Dorothy stared at her reflection, tugging at the silk bodysuit beneath, its exquisite texture making her reluctant to let go.

This heavy, security-laden battle armor was surprisingly light, especially the innermost bodysuit woven from immortal silkworm silk—breathable, warm, and hugging her skin perfectly, granting her a strange, almost naked freedom.

"Tsk, Fafnir, Fafnir, when will you ever grow up?"

The Estate Spirit instinctively glanced at her right shoulder, ready to scold her little dragon armor beast.

But her shoulder was empty—only then did she remember that both her little familiars were still asleep at home with her physical body; she was merely a spirit avatar now.

But that was fine—her little armor beasts couldn't stand seeing their mistress wear another's battle armor, and she'd soon be picking a staff; if Bastet found out, the whole place would explode—Cat Staff's jealousy was legendary.

Just thinking of it, Dorothy felt a strange thrill surge through her.

Well, this must be what they call "the red flag stands firm at home, while colorful flags flutter outside."

Like a photo of Pín Rú's outfit. jpg

Still, though this armor felt comfortable, its cold, lifeless sensation wasn't much different from wearing other robes—it was still an inanimate object, lacking the wondrous unity of human and armor that armor beasts provided.

If anything, this armor only offered physical security, not spiritual safety.

If Dorothy had to choose between this armor and Fafnir, she'd pick Fafnir without hesitation.

This Grand Inquisitor armor was just for fun, a brief indulgence—what would truly accompany her for life was still Fafnir.

Even if her little armor beast was still only promising for the future.

"Hmm, so listen, Fafnir, believe me—I'm definitely not someone who chases new things and abandons the old."

The Estate Spirit soothed her conscience, then stepped out of the changing room, happily clad in the full battle armor.

"Your Excellency, how does the armor fit? Any adjustments needed?"

Outside the changing room, the black cat girl hurriedly asked.

"No, it fits perfectly. High-tier battle armor has built-in body adaptation—nothing needs changing."

Dorothy waved her hand, saying so.

This armor was merely the Tribunal's uniform—nothing to complain about, and no other styles available anyway.

Moreover, this Grand Inquisitor armor's quality already matched that of Alice's crimson battle armor, the one passed down by her stepmother—remember, that one cost her stepmother nearly all her savings, truly a ruinous investment, while this one? Purely free.

Free? Why even bother with a bicycle?

Come to think of it, her stepmother was once an Inquisitor too—she probably still had her own Inquisitor gear. I wonder what brand she used back then? Bronze? Or was she also Silver?

The Estate Spirit's thoughts drifted.

"Alright, then please follow me—next is the equipment section."

Hearing the new Grand Inquisitor was satisfied, the black cat girl exhaled in relief and turned to lead the way to a small storage room next door.

It was a weapons vault, its walls lined with countless staves and alchemical weapons; clearly, the staves and weapons here were far superior in quality to those in the main warehouse.

"Your Excellency, do you have any special requirements for staves?"

The black cat girl asked again.

"I need a bombardment staff."

Dorothy answered instantly.

This staff selection differed from her previous custom order for Bastet—here, there was no personal customization, only standard-issue gear with minor tweaks, no major modifications possible, so no need to overthink.

After all, she planned to be a full-on bombshell this time, having already allocated all her spell slots to bombardment spells—so naturally, she needed a staff specialized in bombardment magic.

She had no intention of choosing herself; she wasn't familiar with the equipment here, and witches didn't believe in staves choosing their wielders, so she left the decision to the black cat girl.

Magical power stems from the heart, so a person's magic often reflects their inner self.

She hadn't just been watching idly earlier as the black cat girl tested staves—seeing how deeply absorbed the alchemist was in her work, even unaware of Dorothy's presence, confirmed she truly loved alchemy; such a person couldn't be evil, especially not one whose professional ethics were unquestionable.

As an alchemist, she wouldn't lie or conceal anything about alchemical gear, and as a warehouse staff member, she knew every piece here inside and out.

"The most powerful bombardment staff you have—any recommendations, Black Cat Sister?"

She smiled now.

"Uh… Your Excellency, really let me choose? Weapons are best chosen by the wielder—I don't know what kind you favor, or your preferred staff style…"

The black cat girl blinked, quickly waving her hands to refuse.

But…

"I can handle any weapon—don't worry. In equipment, you're the expert. I trust your judgment."

Dorothy said again.

The black cat girl hesitated slightly, then remembered something, and spoke with a hint of embarrassment.

"Then… would Your Excellency care to see my own creations?"

"Uh…"

Dorothy paused, then nodded quickly.

"Of course. It's my honor."

She was curious now—this small storage room held only high-end premium gear, yet this black cat girl's work was among them? That was impressive.

Soon, the black cat girl dragged out a massive, heavy chest from the corner.

... Black Cat is retrieving the item...