At that critical juncture, Beatrice caught the sound of Flandre's voice slicing through the chaos.
"Above your head! Above your head!"
A sudden spark of inspiration hit her, and she remembered the golden chain Flandre had handed her the day before. As it happened, she had coiled it into her hair that very morning.
Facing the charging assailant with a wild look in his eyes, Beatrice reached up to her blonde locks, unfastened the fine metal links, and gripped both ends in her hands just as the heavy longsword came howling downward.
Recalling Flandre's assurance that the thread-thin chain possessed extraordinary toughness thanks to an Enchantment, Beatrice trusted her instincts and threw her hands up to intercept the blow without a second's hesitation.
The surrounding onlookers gasped in sheer terror at the sight. In their eyes, a delicate girl using something thinner than a pinky finger to block a full-force vertical slash from a steel broadsword was pure suicide—a modern-day mantis trying to stop a charging chariot.
They braced themselves for the sickening crunch of bone and a gruesome spray of blood.
Instead, a sharp, teeth-gritting clang of meeting metal rang out. To the utter shock of the crowd, the man's heavy longsword bounced harmlessly off the air, deflected entirely by the inconspicuous golden thread.
Even the attacker stood frozen in slack-jawed disbelief, his eyes following the trajectory of his weapon as it spun out of his grip. Though he lacked formal martial arts training, he was a grown man fueled by blind rage; the kinetic force behind his downward strike was substantial. He had never dreamed that a flimsy strand of metal could stop his blade dead in its tracks.
Beatrice herself was momentarily startled by the sheer resilience of the enchantments woven into the chain. But as a seasoned operational officer, her combat reflexes kicked in a fraction of a second faster than any ordinary civilian's.
Before the onlookers could process the impossible defense, she snapped her wrists forward. The golden chain instantly shifted form, elongating into a crackling flexible whip that lashed out toward the assailant.
The next second, a piercing, high-pitched shriek shattered the air as the man's entire body went rigid.
Passersby who turned toward the noise stared in confusion. To the untrained eye, Beatrice's weapon looked less like a fearsome tactical tool and more like an eccentric fashion accessory or a piece of bedroom novelty gear.
Yet the man at the receiving end of the strike was shrieking with a despairing intensity usually reserved for severe trauma. Before he could even finish his howl, his eyes rolled back and he collapsed heavily onto the pavement, convulsing in violent, rhythmic spasms that made it look like he was suffering a severe seizure.
At that exact moment, several Lungmen Guard Department operators patrolling the perimeter sprinted into the plaza, having witnessed the tail end of the confrontation.
Though they were just as bewildered by how Beatrice had effortlessly neutralized an armed attacker in two swift moves—one defensive, one offensive—they immediately swarmed the twitching man and slapped heavy zip-ties around his wrists.
Regardless of whether he was suffering from a medical episode or a sudden psychotic break, none of that mattered right now. Attempted murder in a crowded public square was a one-way ticket to a maximum-security holding cell. Dragging him back to the precinct vans took absolute priority.
Meanwhile, the intended victim stood frozen in place, trembling from the adrenaline crash.
She never imagined that stepping out for a casual afternoon of festival snacks would nearly end in her obituary. She didn't even recognize the deranged man who had lunged at her.
Turning her wide, grateful eyes toward Beatrice, she felt a profound surge of relief. If this golden-haired heroine hadn't stepped in to intercept the blade, her life would have unceremoniously ended right here on the asphalt.
For a split second, her dazed mind even wandered toward romantic notions—wishing her savior had been a handsome, chivalrous prince so she could repay the debt with her hand in marriage. But since her rescuer turned out to be an impossibly striking young woman, she silently resolved to repay this life-saving grace in her next life by working herself to the bone as a loyal beast of burden.
Beatrice nonchalantly looped the golden chain back up and secured it, then walked over to check on the shaken woman.
"Do you happen to know that individual?" Beatrice asked calmly.
The woman swallowed hard and shook her head. "No... I've never seen him in my life."
Beatrice glanced over her shoulder and signaled a nearby patrol officer. "Take this young lady down to the station to file her formal statement. I'll drop my report in when I finish my shift."
"Understood, Officer Swire!"
Though Beatrice hadn't spent as many years on the beat as Hoshiguma or Ch'en, her reputation within the Lungmen Guard Department was formidable. As the proud scion of the illustrious Swire family, her sharp intellect, striking appearance, and the legendary bottomless pockets of her family fortune made her an unforgettable presence.
To many of the younger, unmarried operators, she was the epitome of an unattainable ideal.
Hearing the patrolman address Beatrice as an official officer, the rescued woman's jaw dropped even further. The eldest daughter of the prestigious Swire family had not only chosen to become a boots-on-the-ground street cop, but she had also personally intervened to save a random civilian from a lunatic?
She found herself renewing her private lament—what a tragic waste that Officer Beatrice wasn't a man, or this would have blossomed into a magnificent romance novel straight out of the elite districts.
While the woman stood lost in a whirlwind of dramatic daydreams, Beatrice strolled back to where Flandre and Hong Meiling were waiting.
Flandre blinked her crimson eyes and flashed a playful, knowing grin. "Well? How was it? Super useful, right!"
Beatrice gave an approving nod. "It's genuinely incredible! Though... isn't the voltage output a bit on the aggressive side?"
Hong Meiling crossed her arms, offering a professional critique from the side. "Not at all, I'd say the calibration is right on the money. Look at how fast that fellow went down—he was instantly neutralized without losing total consciousness. That's the ideal balance for a self-defense tool."
"After all, that guy was just an ordinary citizen, but remember what Terra is like," Hong Meiling continued, analyzing the mechanics of the fight. "Between infected constitutions and people who practice physical conditioning or martial arts, the baseline physical tolerance here is leagues above ordinary humans. If the shock were dialed down any lower, a hardened street thug could easily power through the voltage and launch a counter-attack, which would put you in real danger."
Hearing that logical breakdown, Beatrice had to concede the point. In a world where people routinely shrugged off heavy trauma, a weak stun weapon was worse than useless.
With the brief commotion settled, the trio wandered back toward the racing venue, settling comfortably into their grandstand seats to chat about the unexpected interruption while waiting for the afternoon finals to roar to life.
"Speaking of which," Hong Meiling murmured, glancing sideways at Beatrice, "you don't seem particularly practiced with a soft whip. Do you want me to show you a trick or two?"
Thinking back on Beatrice's form from moments ago, it was obvious she had relied purely on the weapon's magical enchantment and her own raw reflexes to block the sword. If she had tried to wield the soft whip like an actual martial arts practitioner without the benefit of a surprise strike, she would have been more likely to wrap the metal around her own neck than hit an opponent.
Beatrice looked over in genuine surprise. "You actually know how to use one?"
"Of course," Hong Meiling replied with a light chuckle. "In martial arts, you're expected to dabble in everything—blades, spears, swords, halberds, axes, hooks, and multi-segmented whips. While a soft whip isn't the most common weapon out there, you run into exotic practitioners from time to time. You can't hope to defend against an unusual weapon unless you know how to wield it yourself."