Beatrice put on the newly enchanted head chain and walked over to the full-length mirror in the living room to inspect her reflection.
The slender gold chain coiled atop her blonde hair, pressing down on the strands with absolute balance. Because the metal tone matched her hair almost perfectly, it went entirely unnoticed unless someone peered closely. Even if spotted, it simply looked like a fashionable decorative band.
The real marvel lay in the microscopic, mysterious runes etched along the links, visible only upon close inspection.
Beatrice reached up and pinched the magnetic clasp at the end.
With a soft click, the chain disconnected. The hidden weight-shift runes triggered instantly, causing the heavy gold band to slide smoothly from her hair. Unspooling in her grip, the ornament transformed into a flexible, two-meter-long combat whip.
As it happened, Beatrice was exceptionally skilled with whip-based weaponry.
Flandre and Beatrice stepped out into the backyard, heading toward a sturdy wooden training post that Beatrice used for her daily martial arts drills. There, Flandre explained the mechanical layout of the existing enchantments.
"There's still one empty slot left for a final rune inscription, Beatrice," Flandre said brightly. "I didn't make any assumptions since I don't know your preferred combat style. Tell me what you need, and we can figure out the right enchantment."
Beatrice nodded, hefting the golden whip in her hand. She stepped up to the wooden post and unleashed a fluid sequence of strikes—a classic martial routine she called the Lightning Five-Consecutive-Whip.
The lashes cracked through the air with a sharp snap. Afterward, Beatrice walked over to inspect the impact points on the post, letting out a soft whistle of amazement.
The gold chain was remarkably thin, roughly half the width of a finger, but under the weight enchantment, it packed a massive kinetic punch. Deep, clearly defined grooves scarred the solid wood. Beatrice figured that if this weapon connected with a human target, it could easily shatter bone in a single blow.
Moreover, with the structural reinforcement runes woven into the alloy, she didn't have to worry about the links snapping under high-tension impact.
With striking power and durability already secured, the question was how to optimize the weapon's tactical utility without turning it into a lethal hazard.
Beatrice didn't rush. She pulled Flandre into a quick hug, planting a grateful kiss on the girl's cheek before voicing her professional perspective.
"I'm a police officer, not an executioner," Beatrice noted thoughtfully. "The criminals I deal with are usually everyday thugs or desperate individuals acting on impulse. For that kind of threat, the physical impact alone is more than enough."
She shook her head. "If the striking power were any higher, I'd run the risk of accidentally beating a suspect to death. In my line of work, leaving a trail of fatalities during an arrest creates a massive administrative headache. So, we don't need any more raw damage."
"The only real issue is that the whip is so thin," Beatrice continued. "Even though it hurts terribly, it doesn't instantly incapacitate an opponent. If I run into a hardened criminal hopped up on pain inhibitors or combat stims, they might push right through the pain and trade hits with me."
After all, a two-meter whip was essentially a close-quarters melee weapon in a street fight.
Hearing this, Flandre and Hong Meiling gathered around to brainstorm solutions for the final rune slot. How could they disable a target faster without escalating physical trauma?
"Simple—just stack elemental crowd control," Hong Meiling suggested calmly, leaning against a garden pillar.
Beatrice blinked. "Explain?"
"As anyone who studies combat theory knows, when physical output hits a practical threshold, infusing Arts is the best way to scale utility," Meiling pointed out. "Standard police issue includes stun batons and tasers to neutralize suspects safely through electrical feedback, right?"
Meiling gestured toward Flandre. "And regarding the derivative effects of different elemental Arts, Flandre is practically an expert."
Flandre nodded enthusiastically. As a veteran Magical Girl, she knew the combat applications of elemental magic inside and out.
Fire, for instance, caused severe burns—and Arts-induced burns were far more vicious than thermal injuries in the physical world, defying standard cooling treatments and requiring a counter-spell to clear.
Other elements had similarly distinct tactical signatures. After running through the various options, Beatrice made her choice without hesitation: lightning-element paralysis.
The reasoning was straightforward. Paralysis was a systemic nervous-system effect. Even a glancing blow could cause the target's limbs to lock up instantly. For a law enforcement officer, the priority during a violent confrontation was swift neutralization—subduing the suspect before they could endanger civilians or officers.
Lightning offered the fastest route to total immobilization.
Flandre entirely agreed with the choice. One lash for full-body paralysis; two lashes to leave a suspect twitching helplessly on the pavement.
Even better, electrical damage was conductive and internal. Unlike ugly fire burns or dark-element corrosion, a lightning strike left very few external lacerations. Beatrice wouldn't have to worry about getting chewed out by her superiors for brutalizing suspects, since electric-shock restraint devices were already standard doctrine in the Lungmen Guard Department.
With the plan finalized, Flandre took the gold chain back inside. With Patchouli supervising, she carefully etched the final lightning rune into the remaining blank slot.
"Wait... this thing isn't going to shock me, is it?" Beatrice asked with a nervous grin as Flandre handed the finished whip back.
"Of course not," Patchouli adjusted her glasses, stepping forward with an air of academic authority. "First, the lightning circuit only activates when the chain is unspooled and disconnected from the head loop. Second, the rune incorporates an internal recognition filter."
Patchouli offered a reassuring smile. "If you're still paranoid, you can perform an Arts binding with it. Once bound, the electrical discharge will completely ignore your biology."
Beatrice arched an eyebrow. "An Arts binding? Is this like those novels where legendary swords require a drop of blood to recognize their master?"
"It's similar in concept, but entirely different in practice," Patchouli explained. "This binding is simply a frequency-matching protocol to ensure the lightning Arts don't backfire on the wielder. It doesn't lock the weapon to you permanently like a blood-bound artifact from a storybook—others can still use it if needed. Go ahead and prick your finger."
Beatrice pulled out a small utility blade, pricked her fingertip, and pressed a single drop of crimson blood directly onto the golden links.
The metal glowed with a faint, warm resonance as the gold chain absorbed the droplet. Patchouli gave a satisfied nod, confirming the binding process was complete.