"Then there is the Arts damage output."
Subsequent data readouts revealed that the peak electrical discharge generated through the golden chain exceeded standard-issue LGD stun batons by a full thirty-three percent. That explained precisely why an officer with Hoshiguma's legendary physical constitution was instantly immobilized and dropped to the turf.
"Is the current lethal?" Beatrice asked, leaning over the lead technician's shoulder.
"Lethal? Of course it's lethal," the technician replied, adjusting his glasses as he analyzed the voltage spikes on his monitor. "If someone is subjected to a continuous discharge from this weapon for more than five seconds, it will cause total organ failure and cardiac arrest. However, in short, whipping bursts—where contact is made and instantly broken—it delivers an overwhelming, instantaneous shock. It will cause severe pain and temporary paralysis, but it won't prove fatal to a healthy adult."
Having answered her question, the tester paused, unable to hold back his own profound confusion.
The golden chain lacked handles, insulating grips, or grounding isolation. Scientifically speaking, the moment a current generated along the metal, the very first person electrocuted should have been the wielder holding it, long before the target ever felt the blow.
Furthermore, Beatrice had been handling the chain for hours. By all rights, she ought to have been fried into a stick of crispy char siu, yet here she was, bursting with energy and completely unscathed.
Seeing the officer's utter bewilderment, Beatrice proudly scooped up Flandre and held her high in the air. "Well, this is Arts, you know! Flandre cast a special spell on me so I'm totally immune to the lightning!"
To demonstrate, under the technician's shocked gaze, Beatrice reached out, coiled the golden chain between her hands, and linked the two ends together. She placed the coiled loop directly onto the testing sensor.
The monitor registered zero current. Even more absurdly, the total weight reading on the digital scale plummeted from its previous five pounds down to a mere few dozen grams.
"This is completely unscientific!" The technician stared at the instrument panel, his eyes practically bulging out of his head.
A moment ago, he had found it hard enough to accept that a fine golden thread could weigh five pounds. But now, a long strand of solid metallic alloy registering at a few dozen grams was equally impossible. Closing the loop made it lighter, while unlinking it made it heavier—every single parameter violated every law of physics and metallurgical science he had spent his life studying.
Flandre proudly planted her hands on her hips, her small chest puffing out. "This is the true power of a Magical Girl!"
"Magical Girls are simply too absurd..." the technician muttered, pushing his glasses up his nose.
He made a mental note to go home tonight and research a few Magical Girl anime series. Since an unscientific existence like Flandre had already appeared in Lungmen, it was only a matter of time before a second, third, or fourth absurd anomaly surfaced. As a tactical inspector, he needed to adapt to these impossible phenomena as quickly as possible and establish new inspection protocols. Otherwise, if the Lungmen Guard Department failed to keep pace with the changing times, they might pay a devastating price in some future conflict simply because they couldn't analyze or counter an enemy's incomprehensible gear.
Once the testing concluded, Beatrice satisfiedly rewove the golden chain back into her flowing blonde hair, pulling her favorite beret down to cover it.
To an outsider, the subtle golden accent looked like nothing more than an elegant piece of hair jewelry. No one would ever suspect that beneath her hat rested a lethal weapon capable of subduing targets in a fraction of a second—or ending a life outright.
Leaving the testing grounds behind, the group headed to a quiet restaurant nearby and sat down for dinner.
Over the meal, Ch'en Hui-chieh briefed Flandre on the outcome of yesterday's official deliberations.
Wei Yenwu had ultimately agreed to Flandre's proposal regarding the refugees. Given the uncertainty surrounding whether these wandering Sarkaz harbored hostile intentions, the Chief Governor chose to settle them in a monitored enclave located far outside the urban core of Lungmen.
Technically speaking, while those fringe territories fell under Lungmen's broader jurisdiction, the administration had never actively managed or developed them. Handing the land over to the Sarkaz for settlement cost Wei Yenwu virtually nothing.
If these Sarkaz truly sought a peaceful life, ceding a patch of wilderness gave them a home. If they harbored hidden malice, the distance from the city center ensured that any attempt to launch a surprise attack would be crippled before it even began.
As for whether the current ruler of Kazdel might use these displaced Sarkaz as a pretext to wage war against Lungmen, Wei Yenwu wasn't the least bit concerned.
Kazdel lay vast distances away. If the Sarkaz military wished to march on Lungmen, they wouldn't just have to breach the defensive lines of Great Yan—they would also have to monitor every movement from Ursus.
The Ursus Empire desired nothing more than to tear Kazdel apart while simultaneously annexing Lungmen. If the Sarkaz were foolish enough to launch an invasion into Yan territory, Ursus, with its notorious shamelessness, would undoubtedly send massive army divisions across the border under the guise of "mutual defense."
Once those Ursus troops set foot inside Great Yan, sending them back would be nearly impossible. Kazdel wouldn't gain a single inch of Lungmen soil and would instead find itself crushed in a horrific pincer attack between Great Yan and Ursus.
The only reason Kazdel currently enjoyed a fragile stability was because Great Yan refrained from intervention. Invading Lungmen would mean declaring open war on Yan. At that point, a grand coalition wouldn't even be necessary—a coordinated pincer strike between Yan and Ursus would effortlessly wipe the small, divided nation of Kazdel off the map.
Therefore, Wei Yenwu had zero fear of a Sarkaz invasion. If anything, he was actively calculating how to turn this to his advantage—settling the Sarkaz within his borders and recruiting their able-bodied youth to serve as his covert "white gloves."
After all, every power across Terra knew one universal truth: when utilized properly, Sarkaz mercenaries were unmatched in efficiency.
"It is wonderful that Governor Wei is willing to take Flandre's wishes into account," Hong Meiling remarked smoothly, setting down her teacup. "As for those Sarkaz, since we were the ones who arranged for their stay, we will naturally shoulder full responsibility. If any of them attempt to plot against Lungmen, I will personally clean house."
In Meiling's eyes, the Sarkaz of Terra were no different from anyone else. The Second Young Mistress and her sister had simply been mistaken for Sarkaz upon their arrival, and since neither had bothered to correct the misconception, letting the world treat them as such was harmless.
As for herself, Flandre had designated her identity as an Aegir. Meiling didn't care about the label—it was merely a convenient title for the outside world.
To her, those starving Sarkaz were simply a group of unfortunates granted a lifeline through Flandre's bottomless kindness. If they dared to betray that mercy, their lives would be forfeit.
While Meiling was by far the most easygoing and approachable resident of the Scarlet Devil Mansion, that gentle demeanor never meant she tolerated disrespect toward her master. When a true fight broke out, her strike was absolute—otherwise, Remilia and Sakuya Izayoi would never have entrusted the gate of the mansion to her alone.
"Of course, Lungmen does not intend to leave them to starve in the wild," Ch'en Hui-chieh added, continuing her report. "The Chief Governor has already set aside a batch of winter emergency rations and agricultural supplies for next spring. It will be enough for them to clear the land and cultivate their own crops."
Beatrice tilted her head, looking at the dragon woman with a curious smirk. "Pink Sausage Dragon, everything you've said so far reflects the Governor's calculations and Flandre's wishes. But what about you? What do you personally think about letting these Sarkaz stay?"
Ch'en fell silent for a few moments, gazing down at the warm tea in her glass before speaking candidly.
"My personal thoughts went through two distinct phases," Ch'en admitted softly. "When I first received the report, I was deeply resistant to the idea. Flandre's sudden arrival in Lungmen had already caused a massive stir behind closed doors. Bringing in an entire group of Sarkaz made me worry about whether it would ignite an even greater crisis."
She paused, her expression softening into a look of quiet solemnity.
"But when I saw those people with my own eyes... my mindset changed completely. Looking at a crowd of refugees who were so severely malnourished they were nothing more than skin and bones, I simply couldn't bring myself to utter those cold, unfeeling rejection words."