Reincarnated as a Healer : Why are my powers so filthy?
Chapter 35: Stormbrand Unleashed

Chapter 35: Stormbrand Unleashed

The battlefield stank of death.

Leon stood beside Saria on a mound of churned earth, bodies and broken weapons scattered around them, the ash-soaked ground slick with blood.

The wind blew, but it didn’t clear the air—only carried the stench of death farther, mingling with the acrid burn of corrupted magic.

His black and crimson tunic was torn, his chest heaving, his magic a faint flicker after the relentless fighting.

The Pale Citadel loomed, its bone walls pulsing, the final tower a jagged scar against the blood-red sky.

Saria pointed to the bottleneck ahead—five corrupted knights, their armor cracked with glowing red veins, holding the choke point, their blades cutting down anyone who dared approach.

Their hollow eyes burned, their movements unnaturally fast, each swing a death sentence.

"Your turn," she said, her voice steady but urgent, her torn black robe fluttering, blood streaking her arms.

Leon clenched his jaw, his hands trembling, his mana dangerously low after Terya’s interrupted recharge.

He had maybe one real cast left, a fragile spark of fire and wind.

"I’ll handle it," he said, his voice raw, stepping forward.

Saria gripped his wrist, her fingers like iron. "You won’t. Not like this."

She pulled him aside—out of sight, into a broken alcove behind a shattered statue of a forgotten goddess, its stone face half-crumbled, vines of red corruption snaking through the cracks.

Terya was already there, panting, holding her side where her leather top had been slashed, a bruise darkening above her ribs.

Her top hung loose, one ample breast exposed, glistening with sweat, her green eyes fierce despite the pain.

"I thought we weren’t fucking," Leon muttered, his heart racing, adrenaline and exhaustion warring in his chest.

"We weren’t," Terya said, stepping toward him, her smirk wicked despite the chaos. "But now we are."

Saria’s dark eyes burned with something between hunger and calculation, her ponytail swaying as she moved closer.

"You need mana. We need you strong. And I’m done pretending this is about modesty," she said, her voice low, a rare edge of need breaking through her stoic facade.

Saria pulled open her robes, her huge breasts spilling out, pale pink nipples tight from the cold and the blood-rushed urgency of battle.

She grabbed Leon by the collar and yanked him to her chest, her skin warm, slick with sweat, her scent deep—smoke, sweat, power.

"Feed off me," she whispered, pressing his face between them, her voice a command wrapped in desire.

Behind him, Terya knelt, her fingers deftly opening his trousers, his cock springing free, already hard from the pressure, the chaos, the adrenaline.

"Look at this thing," she breathed, her tongue licking the base slowly, teasing, her green eyes glinting with hunger. "Twitching for me... you little pervert. You love battle, don’t you?"

Leon groaned, his face buried in Saria’s cleavage, his mouth open against her skin, tasting the salt of her sweat, his hands gripping her hips.

Saria held his head in place, her voice low and firm. "You’re going to make them pay. Every last one. Feed off us. Burn them all."

Terya took him in her mouth fully—wet, fast, hungry, her lips working his shaft, her tongue curling expertly, bobbing faster with every moan that vibrated against him.

Her hands gripped his thighs, nails digging in, her exposed breast swaying with her movements, sweat dripping down her collarbone.

Saria reached down, her fingers cupping his balls, massaging gently, her touch precise but relentless, her breath hot against his ear.

"Let it all go. Now," she ordered, her voice a blade of need.

Leon’s hips bucked, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as heat exploded from his spine, his magic igniting in his chest.

He came hard, gasping into Saria’s chest, his body convulsing as Terya swallowed every drop, her eyes wide with satisfaction, her lips glistening as she pulled back.

More than orgasm, he felt a flood of pure mana slam into his core—flame, wind, power twisting through his veins like a living storm, the bonds with Saria and Terya roaring back to life.

He stepped back, panting, his skin glowing, veins etched with faint red and blue pulses, his eyes flickering with gold.

Terya wiped her mouth, her smirk returning.

"Holy shit..." she breathed, her voice soft, awed.

Saria rewrapped her robes loosely, her dark eyes locked on him, a rare intensity breaking through her stoic mask.

"Stormbrand... is real," she said, her voice quiet but heavy with realization.

Leon turned, his eyes glowing faint gold, his magic a torrent in his chest.

The corrupted knights ahead raised their weapons, their red-veined armor glinting, their hollow eyes fixed on the advancing army.

He raised his hand—then snapped both palms forward, his voice a low growl. "Burn."

A spiral of wind and fire burst out—tighter, faster, hotter than anything before, a screaming corkscrew of hybrid magic that lit the ash field like a second sun.

The front knight was incinerated, its armor melting into slag.

The second was cut in half, its torso sliding apart in a spray of ash.

The others turned to flee—too late.

Leon advanced, casting again, his hybrid spell shrieking through the air, cutting and burning in one relentless strike, obliterating the remaining knights in a storm of flame and gale.

The choke was clear.

The army roared behind him, soldiers surging past, their weapons raised, momentum shifting like a tide.

Leon stood, breathing hard, his chest bare where his tunic had torn, his mana flaring like a halo, veins still glowing faintly.

Saria stepped beside him, her robe loosely tied, blood streaking her arms, her lip curled in satisfaction, a rare glint of pride in her dark eyes.

Terya licked her fingers, her green eyes sparkling, her torn top barely holding together.

"We need to recharge him like that every day," she said, her voice a sultry tease, her smirk wide.

Leon turned to the field ahead, his gaze fixed on the final tower, its bone spire pulsing with red light, Vraxus’s presence a shadow in the air.

The Demon Lord waited, and Leon’s magic burned brighter than ever, fueled by loss, rage, and the women beside him.

He clenched his fists, his voice low, resolute.

"Let’s end this."