I Swear I'm Not a Demon Masquerading as a Human

Strong winds buffeted the sparse trees across the grassland. Blades of grass in the prairie swayed wildly, rustling noisily in the gale. Driven by the wind, masses of clouds churned and sank low.

A heavy downpour was imminent. Amid the raging wind, Lance’s coat flapped loudly, yet his stance remained unshaken. He exhaled lightly as a faint smile played on his lips. "Haa... I told you we were a good match."

Hyperion had successfully drawn the bulk of Ferrat’s attention, leaving him no opportunity to target the backline support in the distance. Furthermore, she was doing an even better job of it than Lance had anticipated. That meant he could cast spells without needing to worry about repositioning.

Lance chuckled softly as a new enchanted card materialized in his palm. As he channeled his mana into it, the spell formula inscribed on the card unfurled and activated layer by layer.

"Now, it’s my turn to heal you."

A gentle, soothing healing energy swept across the grassland like a spring breeze, enveloping the figure floating in the distance. It was a spell of pure healing.

***

Everyone observing the battle, both within the artificial Shadow Realm and in the conference room back at the university, was slightly taken aback. Lance didn’t reveal any additional utility-based cards. Instead, he played it safe by using a healing spell, which his primary role specialized.

Standing at the edge of the conference room with his arms crossed, a burly professor gazed at the screen with a grim expression. "A defensive counter-strategy... That’s a poor move."

Lance’s teammate was Hyperion, an assassin as sharp and lethal as a blade. He shouldn't have chosen to engage in a war of attrition against a frontline mage like Ferrat. It was a blunder in both decision-making and team coordination. The teachers in the conference room, who had been hoping the two incoming freshmen could pull off an unprecedented miracle, were deeply disappointed.

Yet, the very next moment, every instructor watching Lance was left dumbfounded. Strange expressions appeared on their faces as they struggled to find the right words to describe what they were seeing. They had just witnessed a move that left them utterly flabbergasted.

Lance had cast his spell on the wrong target! Instead of healing Hyperion, he had cast the spell on his enemy, Ferrat.

Murmurs of confusion followed.

"What the hell..."

"He managed to miss with a healing spell?"

Someone suddenly asked, "Could he have cast it on Ferrat on purpose?"

The teachers seated at the healing department's round table frowned. One said with certainty, "That doesn't make sense. It was a pure healing spell with no secondary effects or one of those 'toxic heals' unique to the cleric class. Ferrat clearly received the healing benefit."

They were extremely familiar with the type of spell Lance had used: a basic Tier 2 healing spell named Slow Heal. It applied a mark to the target that continuously recovered a small amount of health over time.

Healing spells were generally targeted, but even the most novice white mages would find it difficult to miss who they were targeting with a healing spell. If they were in Hyperion's shoes, their blood pressure would likely be skyrocketing right about now.

Only now did they realize that Lance was the one truly putting on an act. The anticipation he had painstakingly built up was instantly shattered.

In a puzzled tone, Ron interjected, "Wait a moment."

Before long, they began to notice that Ferrat was gritting his teeth. He looked like he wanted to roar, but couldn't make a single sound. The terminal's backend also successfully identified the attributes of the healing spell Lance had just used.

[Flawed Slow Heal]

Category: Spell Card

Grade: Purple (Rare)

Attribute: Healing

Tier: 2

Continuously restores the target's health. The healing range is significantly increased, but the healing potency is weakened. It carries a negative side effect where health restoration is accompanied by intense pain.

A discarded, failed prototype.

A teacher murmured as he read its effects, "Is this... an enchanted card based on the Uncommon spell, Slow Heal?"

Spell cards of this sort weren’t exactly rare. In fact, it was a classic example of a failed creation. While the spell's casting range was significantly extended, the trade-off was a negative effect that rendered it practically useless.

Such duds often appeared on the market, always at the lowest price point for their rarity grade. Card makers usually bought them to break them down for raw materials.

"Right... Lance has a low innate mana aptitude to begin with, and this scrap card comes with a 'weakened healing' penalty..."

After observing the negligible healing effect Ferrat received, the watching teachers finally understood why Lance could confidently heal his enemy. The spell had virtually no therapeutic value.

Finally, after hesitating for a long while, one instructor voiced the question that was on everyone's mind. "So, what exactly is the point of this card?"

What kind of strategy was there in using a useless healing card on an opponent?

Ron paused before responding, "To torture the target."

The faculty all stared, wide-eyed.

"It keeps the opponent in constant pain. The spell's range is so long that there's no escaping it. Of note, the continuous healing effect counts as a buff, so it can't be dispelled by a Cleanse. Basically, as long as you can't kill him, he'll just keep tormenting you."

Just as the associate dean finished describing the bizarre healing spell, Lance pulled out a few more "dud" healing cards of various types and stacked them all onto Ferrat.

Ferrat was in absolute agony. The side effects from the various healing effects were so intense that his eyes looked ready to burst from their sockets! Suspended in midair, he trembled violently. His eyes were bloodshot, and he couldn't say anything.

He wanted to roar, to curse, but the only sound he could make was a low, pained, and hoarse whimper

Meanwhile, in the distance, Lance gazed at Ferrat and grinned smugly. This was the charm of Friendly Exchange. As a vanguard against verbal toxicity, I absolutely won't let you utter a single profanity!

***

A spell of unusual silence settled in the conference room. All of the teachers finally understood why Lance was considered a "White Mage." He was an entirely new breed of such: instead of healing his teammates, he "healed" his opponents.

In doing so, he inflicted a steady stream of disturbance and mental torture. He was all about messing with people's heads!

The instructors gradually realized that Lance Wilford possessed an innate, uniquely powerful Taunt talent. He didn't even need to use an actual Taunt skill, yet he could effortlessly drive people into a frenzy where they would stop at nothing to kill him.

***

Clouds churned and shifted ceaselessly, driven by the wind within the artificial Shadow Realm. Distant thunder drew closer. Occasional flashes of lightning cut across the sky, illuminating three flickering figures in the prairie that was overhung with dark, heavy clouds.

Amid the heavy, rolling roars of thunder, a torrential downpour was imminent. Ferrat resembled an enraged beast, stripped of all his former elegance. He gritted his teeth, and his face was twisted in a mask of madness and fury. The rage within his chest was like a blocked volcanic crater that couldn't erupt, causing it to only grow hotter and more intense.

As he endured excruciating pain, he burned with the desire to tear the very skin from Lance!

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