“How could it be her?”
Beimore pulled down the brim of her hat and hunched her shoulders, secretly watching.
But just as Samimi had analyzed, without the Hero around, the White-Haired Witch didn’t dare draw attention—she turned into a shy, socially anxious girl.
When Beimore saw Samimi step onto the white-brick dueling platform with Red Lion, and all the other students had to make way for them, her eyes almost popped out.
What was the meaning of this?
Why was Samimi dueling the Vice President?
Why was a priestess dueling a fire mage?
Beimore’s mind was flooded with a thousand questions.
“Look, that’s Senior Red Lion! Who’s he sparring with?”
“Who is that? I’ve never seen her.”
“A nun? Must be some kind of heretical mage.”
“A heretic wants to challenge Senior Red Lion? What a joke!”
“Hahaha! Completely overestimating herself!”
The crowd of fire school apprentices burst into noisy chatter, with many openly mocking and trying to get into the opponent’s head.
Soon, the platform had been cleared—only three people remained standing atop it.
“What’s going on?”
“Why’s there a beastkin?”
“What does this mean?”
“She has no magical aura. She’s not a mage!”
“Then why is she in our Academy? This is blasphemy!”
Hundreds of magic students were now completely confused. A one-on-one duel suddenly had three people?
Samimi listened to the rising chorus of doubts, and her skin tingled with excitement.
Yes! This feeling! This chaotic tension—that’s the true charm of another world!
“What’s with the beastkin?” Red Lion asked impatiently. “This is a fair duel. If she doesn’t want to get hurt, she’d better get off the stage. Don’t let her sully our sacred anti-demon bricks.”
“I’m a priestess. My specialty is support and healing. Naturally, you need to allow me a teammate so I can fully demonstrate my abilities, don’t you think?” Samimi replied solemnly.
It made so much sense that Red Lion was momentarily at a loss for words—even though he still felt it broke the rules.
“Just consider her my magical tool,” Samimi smiled.
“I see. A heretical mage who treats human life as nothing.” Red Lion sneered. “In that case, I won’t hold back. Someone like you doesn’t deserve to be at the Continental Magic Academy. You’re unworthy of using magic.”
Samimi had no response—she honestly didn’t know how he reached that conclusion.
Maybe he thought she was using the beastkin as cannon fodder or research material—a wicked sorceress, essentially.
To that, she could only say…
What I hate the most are sanctimonious hypocrites who slap on labels like “evil” without understanding anything.
Misused justice is sometimes scarier than evil itself.
“Bzzzt… bzzzt…”
The six white pillars around the hexagonal dueling platform suddenly lit up, rapidly forming a massive magical field that enclosed the two sides in a barrier.
Turns out, several professors at the edge had activated the formation together—to create a protective field preventing the combatants’ magic from spilling out and harming the audience.
But it was clear this barrier wasn’t set up for her—it was set up for him.
In other words, even the Academy’s instructors acknowledged Red Lion’s strength. His fire magic must be explosive enough to blanket the entire stage.
They’re about to grill a heretical nun alive. This is basically a heretic’s public execution.
Samimi kept a calm smile the whole time, viewing everything with optimism and saying nothing.
Inside, she was actually hoping the storm would be even more intense. She wanted the opponent to be even stronger.
Otherwise, she’d have nowhere to test the new skill she’d just awakened.
“One last chance,” Red Lion declared, crossing his arms and looking down on them. “Leave now and spare yourself the pain.”
“Do you not realize how stupid you sound? Contradictory nonsense from start to finish,” Samimi finally snapped. “Listening to you is like chewing cud while milking a cow—disgusting. Your words make me want to vomit.”
“…” Red Lion’s face instantly turned sour. He’d probably never been insulted like this in his life.
But Samimi had barely warmed up—she was holding back. That was only about 20% of her true verbal arsenal.
She hadn’t wanted to trash-talk, honestly. These cliché pre-fight one-liners were way too overdone.
She used to cringe reading scenes like this in novels.
But now that she’d transmigrated into a fantasy world… here she was doing it herself.
Can’t help it. Holding back around these arrogant otherworlders? Not happening.
“Then let fire purify you,” Red Lion roared, raising his hand and summoning a magnificent ruby staff with a flourish of flames.
“Spatial concealment enchantment,” Samimi casually commented.
This kind of staff—hidden in a dimensional space—had to be at least Epic (purple) grade.
Weapons, like spellbooks, followed the common quality ranks: green, blue, purple, orange… but as the story progressed, some unique “unclassified” gear would appear—hotfixes by the author, essentially.
Still, Samimi just stood there with her hands in her pockets—completely unfazed.
“Rice grub’s overdue for roasting,” Beimore muttered with a smirk, delighted to watch the show.
“Fireball.”
Red Lion lifted his hand and instant-cast a massive fireball, launching it straight toward Samimi. In a blink, it was nearly on her.
“Whoa!”
“Perfect!”
“A masterpiece!”
Just a single fireball spell sent the spectators into a frenzy.
Because real skill shows in the basics—the vice president’s fireball was pure art.
The compression, flight speed, casting motion, chant timing, flame concentration, spell integrity—it was flawless.
Even the pickiest archmage couldn’t find a single flaw.
The simplest spells best showcased a mage’s true capability. It was dazzling—dreamlike.
At the last second, Niubao teleported in front of Samimi.
Boom! A massive explosion.
The orc nun couldn’t resist—no one could dodge such a perfect fireball. It struck head-on, engulfing her in a violent blaze.
It was beautiful—like fireworks. Every flicker of flame looked like a painting.
Clap clap clap clap!
Clap clap clap clap!
The fire magic faction had already begun applauding their vice president.
That one fireball should have been enough to end it.
No heretical mage could possibly survive a hit from Red Lion’s perfect spell.
But as the smoke and fire cleared…
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