Chapter 262: Challenge

"No more fighting, no more fighting! I surrender! Society... Holy Knight sister, you're amazing! I truly submit!"

Below, on the arena floor, Alice quickly pulled out a white flag from her body and hung it on the tip of her new staff, shaped like a spear, then crouched down with her arms over her head.

The moment she finished the motion, a fist landed before her, missing the little witch's face by just a millimeter.

"Little bread, in a real battle, enemies won't accept your surrender."

Madeline retracted her fist and looked at the little witch before her with a hint of exasperation, reminding her.

Her joining the Inquisition was purely accidental; in her original plan, she was supposed to join Professor Euphelia's Legion of Ruin right after graduation.

During these days of club training, she had successfully passed the test set by the Dragon Queen, and her coach had already promised she could report directly to the legion after graduating from the academy.

But just a few days ago, Noerose's second aunt had suddenly appeared mysteriously, saying she wanted to take her somewhere wonderful; the succubus witch hadn't thought much of it and followed along—only to be tricked into joining the Inquisition.

This left Madeline utterly speechless; her second aunt was truly something else—why not just tell her outright? She wouldn't have refused, so why deceive her?

Still, this was the first time she'd learned her second aunt was actually part of the Inquisition.

In their artistic family, Madeline wasn't the first to go off-script—it was her second aunt.

Her aunt's puppetry lineage originated from marionette theater, but by the time it reached her, she had zero interest in puppet shows and instead became obsessed with war puppets; after graduation, she directly went to the frontlines as an armed witch.

No one in the family criticized her; in Madeline's memory, this aunt had always been the cautionary tale elders used to warn the younger generation not to follow her example.

Though Madeline had never paid much attention to those warnings—she let them flow in one ear and out the other—and ended up embracing the armed path even more thoroughly than her aunt.

Still, Madeline wasn't particularly close to this aunt; her younger sister Audrey was closer, since Audrey now carried on the puppet theater lineage her aunt had once abandoned.

So the succubus witch was genuinely puzzled why her aunt had chosen to recommend her.

Even though her aunt was long past marrying age and had no children to inherit her legacy, hadn't she recently taken the young lady and Audrey as apprentices?

Sure, Audrey was severely socially anxious and unsuited for Inquisition work—but wasn't there the ever-reliable young lady?

Still, though she didn't understand her aunt's reasoning, Madeline didn't refuse such a convenient opportunity.

After all, joining the Inquisition wouldn't interfere with her future plans to join a battle legion, and aside from the young lady, she truly had no suitable sparring partners at school—training here would be beneficial.

What surprised Madeline, however, was that shortly after joining the Inquisition, she encountered someone she knew: Alice, the youngest junior in the Armed Forces Club.

Though both had done some disguise, it was enough to fool strangers but useless against old acquaintances—they quickly recognized each other.

Still, it was fine; having a familiar face in an unfamiliar place meant mutual support, so from then on, they often trained and moved together.

"Little bread, the new recruit training starts tomorrow. If you keep this up, you won't even make the top three, let alone earn the reward."

The succubus witch looked at her junior with a mix of frustration and disappointment.

"I don't want to hear it, I don't want to hear it—Holy Knight sister, you're acting way too holy now."

The little witch on the ground, crouching with arms over her head, pouted helplessly.

Ever since her sister went off to become a grind-mage, Alice's life had lost all meaning—even becoming an armed witch meant nothing if her sister wasn't by her side.

So screw it, she was done. If her mother hadn't forced this slot on her, she'd already be considering joining her sister to haul bricks.

Damn it, my sister started a club but didn't even invite me—I'm keeping this grudge.

Madeline was equally exasperated by Alice's lack of motivation.

To conceal their identities, Inquisition members needed to adopt new combat styles; though the spell slot system spared them the trouble of relearning magic, adapting to an entirely new fighting style clearly required time.

That's why she was being so strict with Alice—she wanted the little one to adapt quickly, so she could perform well in training—but this junior showed zero drive whatsoever.

"Would you two like me to spar with you?"

Just as the two were stuck in this stalemate, a unfamiliar voice came from the side, instantly putting Alice and Madeline on high alert.

Alice, who had been crouching with arms over her head, instantly darted backward, while Madeline spun around, shielding Alice behind her; only then did they turn toward the source of the voice, tense and ready for battle.

After all, they hadn't sensed a single presence approaching.

Fortunately, once they recognized the newcomer's face, they relaxed and immediately snapped to attention, saluting.

"Greetings, Grand Inquisitor."

They'd been in the Inquisition for a few days now; though they hadn't yet undergone training, they'd already learned the basics, so from the sleek, high-ranking battle robe the newcomer wore, they could tell she was a Silver-Grade Grand Inquisitor.

There were only 108 such elites in the entire Inquisition; as brand-new Iron-Grade recruits, they dared not be careless.

But this Grand Inquisitor's taste was truly peculiar—why choose a clown mask?

The two glanced curiously at the mask on the dignitary's face, silently mocking inside.

"Sorry for startling you—I apologize. I just happened to pass by and saw you training; I got a bit restless and wanted to stretch my limbs. How about a little sparring?"

The dignitary was unexpectedly approachable; she first apologized to them, then invited again.

"Apologies, Grand Inquisitor, my companion's condition..."

If it were just her, Madeline, as a combat addict, wouldn't mind sparring with this senior—but with Alice here, she didn't want to cause trouble.

But before she could finish, the little witch she'd been shielding peeked out from behind her, sniffed the air, then fixed her glittering red eyes—visible beneath the gargoyle mask—on the officer before her.

"Yes yes! We'd love to!"

The previously listless little witch suddenly burst with energy.

... Little witch reactivated...