But Samimi really hadn’t lied or held anything back—she genuinely taught Rebecca all of her support spell techniques.
On the other hand, the healing spells Rebecca was trying to help Samimi improve were progressing… poorly. Not because the methods were wrong, but because Samimi’s healing skill was truly terrible.
But hey, if she were any good at it, she wouldn’t have needed someone to teach her in the first place!
If Samimi’s support spell level was a perfect 100, then her healing would score around 40. Getting help from Rebecca was at least a way to get that up to a passable 50—not great, but progress nonetheless.
So far in the story, healing magic had seemed pretty useless. Pure healers just couldn’t survive in this world, yet Samimi had managed to solve most problems with her mere 40-point healing ability.
But things weren’t that simple. Healing magic only felt pointless right now because the world’s difficulty hadn’t ramped up yet—this was still considered a relatively peaceful period.
As the plot progressed, monsters would grow stronger, casualties would rise, and the demand for someone who could save lives would skyrocket.
Samimi had said before that, one day, mages would realize that defensive shields and substitution spells were the real divine arts. That time was coming.
So it was necessary to improve her healing skills now. Her support skills had already hit their peak; there was no more room to grow unless she found a legendary-level support spellbook.
She didn’t even need to train anymore—her skill experience was overflowing.
Rebecca, in contrast, had zero support skills but maxed-out healing talent. As long as someone wasn’t dead yet, she could bring them back.
The two of them made a perfect pair—helping each other grow. What could be better?
It was ironic that they were at the Continental Magic Academy, spending their days studying clerical techniques instead of traditional magic.
There were only three of them, but somehow, they had formed the academy’s first “Healing School.”
Rebecca’s talent wasn’t any weaker than those of the main heroines—she just wasn’t very useful at the current stage, and was often mocked by so-called geniuses who couldn’t see the bigger picture. Taking her in as a teammate was one of the best decisions Samimi had made.
“What are you all staring at? Trying to steal our knowledge or something?”
Rebecca snapped coldly at the surrounding students, her tone sharp and filled with murderous intent.
All the nearby apprentices averted their eyes, not daring to look again.
She was the complete opposite of the gentle, warm image people usually associated with priestesses. Forget gentle—she had the vibe of someone who might stab a patient mid-treatment.
“Come on, Mimi, let’s keep studying.”
But when she turned to Samimi, Rebecca’s expression instantly softened, becoming gentle and devoted.
Samimi didn’t dare say anything more—she quietly focused on learning healing spells.
But a few days had passed already, and the Flame School still hadn’t come looking for trouble. That surprised Samimi.
In a typical power-fantasy story, she should already have beaten up the student council president by now, then moved on to the homeroom teacher, then the grade chair, then the vice principal, and finally the headmaster.
After defeating the headmaster, she’d probably unlock the next plot zone and start single-handedly challenging ancient magical clans.
But Samimi wasn’t wrong in guessing that the Flame School was definitely planning something behind the scenes.
Its president was a senior nicknamed the “Orange Lion.”
She had already planted several spies in the classrooms to study Samimi’s magic.
And wouldn’t you know it—our white-haired witch, Bémore, was one of those very spies tasked with investigating Samimi.
“Samimi, you miserable wretch. Are you seriously not going to leave me alone?”
But she didn’t even dare get close to Samimi. Too scared of being recognized, she wouldn’t even step into the magic theory classroom. She usually just peeked in from the hallway windows, grumbling curses under her breath.
Some of the apprentices walking by probably thought she was a teacher. The vibe was way too suspicious.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re planning, you rotten freeloader. You’re obviously here to bring me misery. Don’t think I can’t see through you.”
Bémore ground her teeth at the sight of the Penitent Nun. She was convinced that Samimi had come to the academy specifically to take revenge on her.
Messing with the Flame School was clearly a way of targeting her. She was being humiliated on purpose.
Samimi knew perfectly well how much she valued her pride as a mage—and now she was stomping all over her magical future. It was unbearably cruel!
But after several days of spying…
All Bémore saw was Samimi diligently studying and improving herself, not bothering anyone else.
Which only confirmed her suspicions further! Why wasn’t she picking fights with other people? Why just her school? Don’t try to tell her this wasn’t personal!
“Bémore, what are you doing here? Did you complete the task the president gave you?”
A few upperclassmen from the Flame School suddenly appeared beside her, questioning her.
“Almost done,” Bémore replied meekly, lowering her head like a shy bunny.
“You always say that. It’s been days. Have you made any progress at all?” a senior woman pressed. “Have you uncovered anything about that nun in black? Are you even taking this assignment seriously?”
“I…” Bémore stammered, unable to respond.
“It’s not like we want to pressure you,” another senior chimed in with a fake-friendly tone. “But really, this isn’t working. We’re doing this for your own good.”
This lecture dragged on and on—straight through the end of class.
Bémore could only stand there and endure, head down, being scolded in the hallway like a child, utterly humiliated.
What could she say? The famous Hero’s Party, once they left their comfort zone, were nobodies.
Especially in a highbrow environment like the mage world. Here, generations of magical bloodlines looked down on adventurers as crass outsiders.
“Hm?”
Samimi and her two companions exited the classroom and stepped into the hallway, eyes falling on the students in Flame School robes.
“Let’s go, let’s go.”
The Flame School upperclassmen all immediately shut up, turned into cowards, and slunk away with their heads down.
That was probably the real reason no one from the Flame School had dared to cause trouble all this time.
You needed strength to pick a fight.
This Penitent Nun had already defeated the Red Lion, the school’s vice president. Even if the official statement was a draw, everyone knew who the winner was.
In the world of mages, unknown spell techniques were the scariest—because no one knew how to counter them.
Until someone could figure out the mechanics behind Samimi’s double magic shields, who would dare challenge her?