Miss Witch, Please K Chapter 32 : Chapter 32

Chapter 32: Conflicted Feelings

Enduring damage and retaliating was itself one of the Transcendent traits of the Wrath Path.

The Eighth Sequence “Toxin Master” could inflict poison on anyone who attacked them; the Seventh Sequence “Gravedigger” caused retaliatory bone spike injuries to those who attacked their controlled undead puppets; and the Sixth Sequence “Inciter” could nullify a certain degree of damage and return it unchanged.

As the Sequence ascended, the Wrath Path’s retaliation abilities grew increasingly stronger and more diverse. By the ti one reached the “Inciter” level, even the power to influence an opponent’s thoughts and provoke their aggression beca possible.

The Authority granted by the Chapter of Wrath surpassed all of these traits in power and versatility.

Of course, Funis also took note of the red text labeled “Stored Charge: 1/1.” She surmised that this ability couldn’t be used repeatedly within a short span at will.

Nevertheless, if the Authority’s effect proved true, the right mont of release could fundantally reverse a battle and create a massive advantage.

After calming down, Funis collected her scattered stabbing sword, revolver, and ammo pouch. She found a corner in the theater and sat down to carefully study the “Original Codex” that had suddenly entangled itself with her.

The source of this power didn’t matter to Funis. Her ultimate goal had always been to defeat and kill the Crimson Witch Chescia, then completely end the now fallen and filthy self she had beco.

As long as it made her stronger, Funis welcod it all.

Next, she turned her gaze to the last two lines of text.

【Path switch available: Wrath Path, Seventh Sequence, Gravedigger】

【Note: When switching to the Wrath Path, advancent via potion and ritual proceeds normally. Sequence ascension brings corresponding Authority level increases】

Funis had already tested it—simply sweeping her gaze across the area containing the red script would silently replace her internal Transcendent trait, with no side effects or discomfort.

This ant that she, who had been a feeble Ninth Sequence not long ago, had now freeloaded her way to Seventh Sequence through the Chapter of Wrath.

But judging by the note below, what the Chapter of Wrath granted was an entirely independent new Path. It did not affect her original Witch Path. The two Paths could advance separately.

Therefore, Funis still needed to acquire Swordrust secretions to craft the potion and elevate her Witch Path to the Eighth Sequence. That way, she might also obtain a new, unknown Transcendent trait.

At present, the Chapter of Wrath ca with a powerful yet limited Authority and a new Path entirely independent of her own.

And all of this was related to the Wrath Path and to Samael, the one who represented Wrath.

At this point, a bold and absurd idea suddenly surfaced in Funis’s mind.

It had been her blood that activated the mysterious space linked to the Chapter of Wrath and allowed her to encounter the Fallen Angel Samael. If she could obtain other pages of the Codex, might she also gain new Authorities and Paths in the sa way?

However, it was known that four pages were currently sealed in the capital of the Kabbalah Papal State, Vatica, guarded jointly by the Temperance Court and the Generosity Court—two of the strongest combat institutions. As a Succubus and a Witch, Funis didn’t even dare imagine it. For now, the farther she stayed from Vatica and the Pope, the better.

Interestingly, one of those four pages had once been delivered personally by her during her ti as Sera. The Pope had received her in person, and the entire city of Vatica had fired salutes in her honor that day—an event of great glory.

And now, sothing she had once disdained was what she now desperately craved. The irony of it all felt bizarre and sowhat poetic.

After organizing her thoughts, Funis used thread to pry open the rubble and steel weighing down Wez’s corpse and gave his body a cursory search.

For so reason, touching the man’s body made her feel inexplicably nauseous—even though he was dead. This strange discomfort was hard to explain. Funis thought she might ask Chescia about it later.

In his “Burst” state, Wez’s swelling muscles had torn his shirt to shreds. Funis found a bronze tag bearing the Bloodwine Society insignia in his pocket. The reverse side was etched with markings she couldn’t decipher—like so kind of code.

Fortunately, not long after, she pulled a folded letter from Wez’s pants pocket. On it, the codes matched letters of the Correnzo script.

“Vivian,” she read aloud.

Funis frowned.

The clue seed too direct and simple. She even suspected it might be a trap. But then she reconsidered—Blackwater River District wasn’t very large. The secret warehouse could be hidden in any corner.

Vivian Glass Factory lay just four hundred ters east of the theater—a short walk. A glance wouldn’t cost her anything.

The rest was mostly trivial: three Correnzo gold coins, one silver coin, and a pocket watch with a shattered glass case. Funis silently stored them all in her ammo pouch—she had used thread and needle to nd the broken leather strap herself. Chescia had taught her that too. Simple repairs no longer fazed her.

Last was the tal prosthetic arm she had forcibly disassembled with her revolver. Due to Wez’s high-risk actions before death, most of its components were lted beyond salvage. The steam boiler was near total failure—it was basically scrap.

But Funis wasn’t interested in the prosthetic itself. What caught her eye was the double-barreled chamber embedded in its palm.

She didn’t know why Wez had installed a shotgun structure inside. Ammunition loading was already difficult enough. In her opinion, a shotgun was clearly more fitting.

Stuffing a chanical arm into an enemy’s mouth and firing buckshot—

Now that was cool!

She had fallen in love with it at first sight. Her head filled with, “I want one too!”

Of course, what she thought of first was an auxiliary arm mounted on the side. She still felt so reluctance about chopping off her own delicate arm just to attach a lump of iron.

However, just as Funis raised her stabbing sword to pry it open for a closer look, she suddenly heard the sound of high heels stepping across the floor—echoing through the empty grand theater.

Funis had a bad feeling.

“That’s not sothing a lady should be interested in. If you attach that kind of thing, how will you still wear dresses?” A sweet, girlish voice, tinged with teasing, floated from directly behind her.

Without a second thought, Funis spun and threw her stabbing sword in a reverse grip, followed by a rapid triple shot from her revolver.

Sticky, whip-like blood intercepted the sword mid-air, lashing it around in a wide arc. The three bullets were instantly batted away in different directions.

Debris exploded from ricochets.

With a speed too fast for the eye to follow, Funis smoothly pulled three transparent fine needles from the pouch on her arm—forged from crystal ore. She raised her hand, ready to fire them at the ceiling to trigger the falling object trap.

But in the next mont, her movents halted abruptly.

Vines had already wrapped around her forearm, limbs, and torso.

Amid sinuous scarlet coils, a slender figure in a black formal dress dragged along the ground. She sat cross-legged atop a seat’s backrest, gazing with burgundy eyes that shimred with faint admiration.

It was unmistakably Chescia again. That woman always had a way of appearing out of nowhere at monts like this.

“Not like you have to wear one all the ti…” Funis mumbled.

“That’s hard to say. I get the feeling you’re hesitating now—thinking maybe looking pretty is more important?” Chescia smiled.

Funis had no retort. She bit her lip and turned away.

So annoying! This feeling of having her thoughts read so easily was just too annoying!