Reincarnated as a Healer : Why are my powers so filthy?-Chapter 25: Hey, hero

The sun rose over Eldwood in slow, bleeding streaks of orange, bathing the village in a haze of dew and shadow.

The chapel bell tolled, its deep clang not for prayer but for war, summoning the townsfolk to prepare.

The square buzzed with purpose—boots thudding on packed dirt, the rasp of whetstones on swords, armor buckled onto old leather and scavenged chainmail.

Eldwood's people, farmers and craftsmen just days ago, now carried themselves like soldiers, their faces grim but resolute.

Leon stood on the chapel steps, his hands glowing faintly as he pressed them to a young man's chest.

The boy, barely older than sixteen, winced, his ribs cracked from a kobold's club during a scouting skirmish.

"Hold still," Leon murmured, his brow furrowed, sweat beading at his temples. "Breathe shallow. This'll sting." His magic thrummed, dimmer than after the ritual with Terya but steady, a golden warmth spreading beneath his fingers.

The boy's bones realigned with a faint pop, and he gasped, his pain easing into a shaky smile.

"Thanks," the boy whispered, clutching his side as he stood.

Leon nodded, already turning to the next in line—a woman with a gashed arm, a man with a bruised skull, a child with a sprained ankle.

The wounded snaked through the square, their injuries a testament to Vraxus's growing raids.

Leon didn't stop, couldn't, his hands moving from one to another, his magic fueled by sheer will and the lingering spark of his bonds with Saria and Terya.

Keep them alive, he thought, his breath ragged.

That's my job.

Later, in the church courtyard, Leon knelt in the grass, scrubbing his hands in a bucket of pinkish water, the blood of the wounded swirling in the ripples.

His shoulders ached, his magic stretched thin, but a quiet pride burned in him.

I'm doing this. Actually helping.

He splashed his face, the cold water grounding him, when a shadow fell across him.

"Hey, hero," Terya's voice drawled, her tone teasing but warm.

She stood above him, her freshly cleaned leather vest half-unzipped, the pale curve of her cleavage catching the morning light.

Her blonde hair was tied back, her green eyes glinting with mischief, her wind magic stirring a faint breeze around her.

Leon snorted, shaking water from his hands.

"You keep calling me that, they'll start carving my face into temple walls," he said, his voice light but tired. "Let's hope they don't sketch me at an awkward moment."

Terya knelt beside him, her thigh pressing against his, the contact sending a spark through him.

"You're doing good," she said, quieter now, her smirk softening. "Better than I expected, rookie."

He blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity.

"You mean you're not just here to grind on me again?" he said, a grin tugging at his lips, though his flush betrayed his nerves.

Terya's grin widened, and she leaned in, her breath hot against his ear.

"Oh, I absolutely am," she murmured, her voice sultry. "But I figured I'd try the whole 'emotional support' thing first." Her lips brushed his earlobe, and Leon's heart skipped, his pants tightening despite his exhaustion.

"Come on," she said, standing and offering a hand. "Saria's still playing general, barking orders at the militia. That means I get you to myself. Time for round two."

Leon took her hand, his grin shaky but eager. "Round two, huh? I'm barely standing after round one."

Terya's laugh was throaty, and she tugged him toward a small courtyard behind the chapel, where hay-stuffed dummies lined a wooden fence.

"Toughen up, hero," she said, tying her hair higher, her movements sharp and purposeful. "We're gonna build your precision. Last night was flair. Now, control."

Leon nodded, stepping into a stance, his hands tingling with the memory of wind magic.

He tried the crescent slash Terya had taught him, picturing a sharp arc of air.

The spell sputtered, a weak gust that barely rustled the dummies. He groaned, rubbing his neck.

"Still got some kinks to work out."

Terya stepped behind him, her arms slipping around his waist, her body pressing into his back.