Saintess Clara
There was a saying: if you want to help the poor, don't give them food—teach them how to hunt. Spoon-feeding them everything keeps them trapped in the same spot. People who only accept handouts from others gradually lose the drive to move forward. That's why you have to empower them to improve their own situations. Education worked the same way. If I solved every problem for her, Lily would just become a kid dependent on me.
"That won't do."
Humanity right now was blinded by mutual hostility, unable to face reality head-on. The only key to breaking that deadlock was the children here. And standing before those children wasn't my role—it was the role of the Olive Wand's master, Lily. Clara made a decent practice target, all things considered. Compared to the other two pains in the ass who kept siccing their underlings on me with their political schemes whenever they got the chance, Clara was practically harmless.
"So... handle this one on your own. I'll just give advice from the sidelines."
How would Lily prove herself in front of the saintess? And how would she deal with her? With a flicker of anticipation, I muttered to myself.
"Lily can pull it off."
Even in an academy where most students were nobles, certain ones received extra special treatment: the supporters who handled heals, buffs, and debuffs. There was a complicated backstory behind it.
Most noble houses prized honor above all. And that honor? It came from wielding a sword on the front lines or blasting away with wide-area spells from a staff. That mindset led to an oversupply of warriors and mages... and a dire shortage of supporters.
The imbalance became glaring around thirty years ago, when the colonial wars kicked off. As the age of exploration dawned, the Empire turned its gaze outward to the continent's fringes. Compared to rival great powers where lives hung in the balance, the colonies—with their lagging civilization and magic—were pushovers that crumbled under minimal force. No need for formal mage unit formations against natives who folded like paper at a single poke. Fewer people signed up for supporter roles, while more rushed to the front lines for glory. Supporters became the unwanted class.
But even against natives, you couldn't roam without supporters. When everyone piled onto the front lines, the supporter shortage flipped the script—suddenly, they were the rare gems everyone craved.
The worst hit generation was the one currently at the academy. Practical exams used to pair two or three warriors per supporter, but that formation was shattering. At this rate, a 5-to-1 ratio was pushing it. Some teams might snag a supporter while others got none—a disaster brewing.
Thus, a massive overhaul hit the practical exam format. Pair up within the same class, tailor evaluations per class. Lily's class was healers, so she'd pair with another healer—that much was predictable. But the saintess? That she hadn't seen coming.
"What a headache..."
Lily stuffed the note into her pocket and hugged her textbooks as she stepped out of the classroom. She couldn't be late for the mobile class just because her head hurt. As she walked, her thoughts wandered on.
"Come to think of it... Clara's always hated me."
Unlike heirs from other factions, Saintess Clara never hid her feelings toward Lily. Lily had always found it odd. She wasn't savvy in faction politics like Professor Ria, but watching her mentor had taught her enough to read the room. And Clara's behavior? It stuck out like a sore thumb.
"The saintess was sent by the Holy Kingdom to claim a wand, just like the others."
Of course, the Holy Kingdom's ideal outcome was Clara snagging one. Lily got why the saintess coveted it. But... everything else?
Plan B if she couldn't get the wand: poach its wielder instead. So why openly despise the wielder? It gained nothing. Considering Plan B, that position made zero sense.
"She's not even trying to isolate me..."
If she wanted hostility, go all in—crush with every tool available, force the wand's abandonment. But Lily had never felt heavy pressure from Holy Kingdom students. It was this ambiguous middle ground.
"No way this is pro-level work."
The Holy Kingdom wasn't some innocent "beautiful land of God untouched by dirty politics"—Lily's harsh life as a slave had cured her of that naivety. Anyone in their right mind wouldn't instruct the saintess to act like this.
"Means it's the immature saintess acting on her own."
Why would the saintess make that choice? Lily couldn't get a read on it.
"Maybe that's better, though...?"
Compared to the other two's cold, calculated wand hunts, Clara just trash-talked her slave origins without real harm. She didn't seem to like Lily, but no direct damage yet.
"What kind of person is the saintess, really...?"
Muttering to herself, Lily rounded the corner.
But she overlooked a few things. Once lost in thought, Lily barely scanned her surroundings. And right then, someone was coming from around the bend.
"I wonder... Oof!?"
Lily, staring blankly at the ceiling, slammed into the person and tumbled down in a heap. Amid the scattered textbooks, she rubbed her forehead and looked up at her opponent.
"Ow, sorry... Huh?"
The other stared back at Lily—and froze solid.
"Ahh, sorry... Wait, you?"
Platinum hair spilling to the floor in her seated sprawl. Amber eyes like polished gems. Faint holy particles drifting around her.
Recognizing her was easy. The Holy Kingdom's Saintess Clara.
"You're..."
"You're...?"
The Eastern proverb said even tigers come when mentioned—and sure enough, Clara herself appeared right before her eyes.
The Holy Kingdom's upper echelons were formed by the twelve tribes that founded it a century ago. But pope and saintess? Only one each. Competition among the twelve tribes for those seats was inevitable.
The most desperate? The Lumeun tribe. While the other eleven rotated the roles over the past hundred years, frontier-pushed Lumeun got zero shots. No way a pope emerged from a sidelined tribe with no voice left. One option remained: saintess.
A role chosen purely by a child's talent—politics aside—gave even low-influence Lumeun a shot. And luckily, they had a raw gem: Clara, born with overwhelming S+ mana potential.
Lumeun seized what might be their last chance.
"Raise her to perfectly embody the saintess."
The Lumeun patriarch decided to mold Clara's personality after the first saintess.
"Gluttony symbolizes greed; meat-eating is indirect killing."
Clara's allowed food: meager bread and vegetables.
"Human bonds breed envy and jealousy; leisure fosters sloth and laziness."
No friendships permitted.
From childhood, scripture study offered no outlet for stress. It piled up, stuffed deep inside.
But no release came.
"Anger births sin, leading to ruin."
Boiling emotions locked away in young Clara's heart.
"Still lacking. Pride roots all sins—ever humble yourself and serve diligently."
No adult praise. The girl forgot how to receive it.
"A saintess must be pure. Lust erodes communal bonds—reject it utterly."
Clara couldn't even entertain a schoolgirl crush fantasy.
Squeeze a watermelon into a square mold, you get a square watermelon. Trapped in the perfect saintess mold, Clara appeared flawless on the outside. But deep down?
Clara couldn't be sure.
What sustained her? Her mother's words.
"Endure, and you'll be the noblest person in the world."
Clara clung to that through the long years. But the Olive Wand passed her by, landing in some unknown girl's hands.
"Then... what was my life?"
Her sole pillar crumbled. No way to control the fallout. Emotions suppressed to the brink leaked out; delayed puberty from the academy clouded her judgment. No one caught her as she fell.
"Lady Olivia surely knows that slave girl isn't the real wand master."
Something was wrong. A truly noble, pure saintess shouldn't harbor these feelings. Envy and jealousy toward Lily. Rage at not being chosen, greed for the wand. Craving recognition. None befitting a saintess—her head knew, but her heart wouldn't obey.
So when Olivia rebuked her, her mind oddly steadied a bit.
"The new Olive Wand's master will prove herself too. Suspect if you must, but dare not accuse without grounds."
Yes. Prove it. Make me accept this outcome. Show your life wasn't wasted. Prove you struggled as fiercely as I did.
Clutching the note with Lily's name, she repeated words she'd never voice aloud as she walked. Maybe that's why she didn't check the corner properly, lost in her turmoil.
"Kyaa!?"
Clara collided head-on with the girl coming around the bend.
"Ahh, sorry... Wait."
Lifting her head slowly, Clara's eyes met the Olive Wand's master. The very target of her envy, jealousy, rage, longing, and obsession—right there in her heart.