Chapter 83

The massive arena suddenly fell into deathly silence; almost everyone found it hard to believe what they had just seen.

So what the hell just happened? Wasn’t this supposed to be a match? Why did it end so suddenly?

In the stands, many witches hadn’t even seen what occurred—they only saw the junior captain of Team Thirteen charge forward, the crude country girl threw a punch, and then nothing else happened.

I just watched nothing at all; isn’t this junior captain way too weak?

Many spectators thought this.

But these thoughts were quickly overturned by the witches themselves—after all, this was the captain of the Purification Thirteenth Team.

Many witches in the crowd knew well the strength of the campus patrol squads, especially those students who had previously broken rules and fought the patrol forces.

Witches who join the Purification Thirteenth Team are always the strongest fighters in the Armed Society, and becoming captain requires ranking among the top fourteen in the entire society—this junior captain’s strength is unquestionable.

Moreover, this junior captain is a campus celebrity; she frequently appeared in the Grand Arena, never refusing a challenge if she was free—easygoing and popular among students, not just the Armed Society’s mascot but also a top star across the entire Witch Academy, beloved by many female students.

Her strength had long been proven through countless victorious duels; she was truly formidable.

So the question arises: why did such a powerful captain lose so badly, getting instantly killed right here?

Is this a fixed match? Or is this plain-looking country girl who challenged us truly that strong?

After the silence, the stands erupted; the spectators began arguing over this issue.

“F***, refund my ticket—this is fixed?”

“Exactly! Captain, your acting sucks—where’s your immortal body? Where’s your regeneration?”

“This is ridiculous—she literally headbutted the punch? That’s suicide.”

“Is that all? I could do it too.”

“Shut up—I just saw on the Dark Web someone took bets on the Armed Society getting humiliated today, and someone dumped a huge sum on it. That’s definitely a plant; this captain probably took money.”

Some witches who didn’t understand what happened started shouting, while others rebutted this view.

“Nonsense—Captain Alice is not that kind of person.”

“All you mouth kings just blabber—you didn’t even see what happened, so shut up and go train your eyes before watching matches again.”

“Don’t blame Captain Alice—her opponent is just too strong. I felt like I was watching a second Madeline.”

“No wonder the Student Council President picked her—this young lady really has something.”

The two sides began heatedly arguing, and meanwhile, the large group of spectators who had already heard the gossip on the Dark Web began arriving one after another.

These latecomers arrived too late—the match was already over, so they saw nothing, but that didn’t stop them from joining the fray after hearing a summary, launching into pseudo-rational analysis or just yelling nonsense for fun...

“Yeah yeah, even though I didn’t watch the match, I still think this captain took money.”

“Get lost—you didn’t even watch, so what’s your point? Can’t you be honest like me? From what I know of Captain Alice, she probably just sucked.”

“I think both sides have a point—when’s the next match? I already missed one juicy bit and want to eat something hot.”

Well, witches truly are humanity’s super-evolved race—even with immense power, their bickering still exudes that familiar human flavor.

But these spectators, with their uneven strengths, might not have understood what happened—yet in the VIP seats, the members of the Purification Thirteenth Team could see something, especially the other twelve captains, who all stared wide-eyed, filled with disbelief.

Their expressions turned serious and solemn; if before they had only glanced at this crude, unassuming challenger out of respect for the Student Council President, now they regarded her as a dire threat.

They knew the Armed Society might truly be in trouble.

“Quick, contact the president immediately.”

The senior, composed witch who had sent Alice into the ring turned to her adjutant and ordered; the adjutant bowed and swiftly flew out of the arena to find the invincible president and bring her to the scene.

Seeing the adjutant leave, the first seat knew the president would arrive soon and felt reassured—she only needed to hold the situation for now.

“Mia-sis, this woman is dangerous—I didn’t even understand how Alice lost. Her wild instinct is usually so sharp; why did it fail completely this time?”

“Yeah, Mia-sis, did you see what happened? Where’s Alice’s regeneration? Her unkillable healing is the most annoying thing—I always suffer when fighting her. She couldn’t possibly be one-shot.”

“Mia-sis, this Student Council President’s daughter is also a Dragon Witch like you, right? If she’s this strong, she can’t be ordinary—do you know her?”

Before the composed witch Mia could answer, her comrades’ magical whispers buzzed in her head.

But she couldn’t blame them—after all, as the first captain of Team Thirteen, she was now the de facto leader of the Armed Society while the president was absent.

But...

“Sigh, you all ask me—then who should I ask?”

The Dragon Witch sighed, feeling utterly drained.

Fortunately, as the second-strongest in the Armed Society, just below the president, she had seen enough.

First, as a teammate, Mia knew Alice’s strength well—they often sparred within the society.

This young junior was a true genius: her magical power was immense, and her talent and specialties were flawless.

She was one of the rare dual-race template witches, inheriting two major racial templates simultaneously.

Of course, such dual-race witches aren’t necessarily strong—talent and specialties depend on compatibility.

If the templates clash—say, inheriting a water talent from one side and a fire talent from the other, and the two oppose each other, dragging each other down—it’s awkward and often causes the young witch to be sickly from childhood.

In such cases, the young witch should choose one path and suppress the other talent.

Suppressing a talent is physically damaging and excruciatingly painful, but necessary for a better future.

Thus, in some cases, this dual-template is effectively a congenital illness.

But if the two talents are highly compatible and complement each other, such dual-race witches become extremely powerful.

According to Mia, Alice was precisely such a powerful dual-talent witch—her father was a werewolf, her mother a vampire.

Werewolves and vampires are ancient enemies, but that’s a later grudge; in terms of their core powers, they nearly share the same origin and complement each other perfectly.

Alice, inheriting both, was truly a Blood Moon Child—possessing the werewolf’s keen beast instinct and terrifying strength, and the vampire’s unique blood magic and extreme speed.

Even their already powerful regenerations stacked on her, becoming even stronger—a low-tier immortal body with a shockingly thick health bar.

Not to mention the vampire’s ability to summon the Blood Moon, and the werewolf’s berserk rage under it—this combination was outright cheating.

Of course, Alice was still young; her combat system wasn’t fully formed, so the senior captains could still overpower her—but in a few years, once she matured, even Mia, the first seat, shuddered at the thought of the fully realized Alice.

Even now, Alice was formidable; Mia could easily defeat her, but she could never one-shot her—nor could the president, Madeline, likely achieve such a thing.

After all, Alice’s inherited werewolf wild instinct (SSR) talent had been honed to precision—any lethal intent directed at her was instantly sensed, triggering swift evasion or defense.

The vampire’s speed let her dodge effortlessly; her immense regeneration meant she could trade blood with you and never lose—extremely annoying.

But in this fight, Alice’s abilities seemed useless. At first, Mia thought Alice had been careless or made a mistake—but after mentally replaying the scene, she was stunned: the young witch had truly given everything.

One second before Alice made contact with the young lady, she made a tiny shift—she had sensed the killing intent and prepared to dodge—but the result was she dodged, yet precisely moved her head into the opponent’s fist, and was cleanly beheaded.

Yet, even if her head shattered, that wasn’t a fatal wound for Alice—she should’ve been able to fight on—but in reality, she was instantly killed, her godlike regeneration seemingly disabled.

So that seemingly plain punch must not have been simple—did it carry some kind of instant-kill effect?

Mia couldn’t be sure.

But one thing was certain: this young lady clearly knew Alice’s techniques well—otherwise, she couldn’t have targeted them so precisely.

If she had Alice’s data, did she have everyone else’s too?

The thought sent Mia’s heart sinking.

This young lady is dangerous.

But wait—this is a faction evaluation, right? If she’s already defeated Alice, she’s technically qualified—there’s no need to keep fighting.

Mia suddenly realized this.

If she immediately declared the challenger qualified, she might avoid further battles.

But...

After being humiliated like this, how could the Armed Society avoid combat? To fear battle is to betray the very identity of an Armed Witch.

So...

“Rena, you’re next—try to stall for time. The president will arrive soon.”

Mia whispered to the second seat beside her.

“Got it.”

In the VIP box next door, a wild, voluptuous, bare-skinned black-skinned witch with beast ears stood up confidently.

...Shitty witch on standby...