Reincarnated as a Healer : Why are my powers so filthy?
Chapter 36: The citadel trembled

Chapter 36: The citadel trembled

The gates to the throne chamber stood cracked—black stone veined with pulsing red lines, twisted in spirals like melted bone.

The air hung thick, charged with malice, a weight that pressed against Leon’s chest.

The army behind them was wounded, scattered, but still pushing, their footsteps echoing faintly in the bone-walled corridor.

Leon stood beside Saria and Terya, his black and crimson tunic torn, his hands trembling with the faint flicker of his magic.

The massive double doors groaned open under their own weight, revealing the throne hall—a long, dark expanse, its obsidian walls lit by veins of crimson light, the floor tiled in bone-white slabs.

At the far end, the throne loomed, a jagged monstrosity of iron and bone, its base fused with the corpses of demons and humans, their limbs faintly twitching.

Varnyx, the Demon Lord, rose slowly from the throne, towering, humanoid but inhumanly perfect—his flesh dark and smooth, four curling horns crowning his head, wings like torn parchment stretched behind him.

His eyes were molten gold, glowing pits that burned into Leon’s soul.

"Heroes," he said, his voice deep enough to rumble the stones, a mocking lilt curling the word. "So late. So small."

Leon stepped forward, his jaw tight, his magic a fragile spark. "You talk a lot for a corpse," he said, his voice steady despite the fear clawing his chest.

Varnyx grinned, his teeth sharp, gold fire flickering in his gaze. "So brave, for a healer."

Two demon lieutenants stepped from the shadows—towering knights with blackened armor fused into their flesh, burning red glyphs glowing across their chests, their eyes empty voids.

Saria moved first, her sword bursting into flame, a streak of fire as she met one head-on.

Steel screamed, sparks exploding as her blade clashed with the knight’s massive axe.

Terya rushed the second, her wind arcs slicing outward—fast, precise, unrelenting, her plunging top clinging to her sweat-soaked chest, blood darkening her left side from a shallow cut.

Leon stayed at range, casting from behind, arcs of wind-fire spiraling from his palms, each spell a desperate burst that faded too fast.

His mana was burning out, the corrupted air of the citadel draining him with every cast, his breaths ragged, his vision blurring.

Terya ducked a strike, her movements fluid, but the demon’s follow-up claw ripped across her chest, tearing leather and skin.

She screamed, stumbling back, blood spilling down her front.

Leon dashed toward her, his heart pounding, catching her before she hit the bone-tiled floor.

Blood soaked her top, her ample breasts trembling with each shallow breath, the torn leather exposing her wound.

She looked up at him, pale but smiling faintly, her green eyes soft.

"I trust you," she whispered, tugging the remaining flap of leather down—not to seduce, but to expose the gash across her ribs, blood seeping over her bare skin.

Leon dropped to his knees, ignoring the heat of her body, the pounding in his head, the chaos around them.

"You’re not dying here," he muttered, teeth clenched, pressing both hands to her ribs.

His magic flickered, weak at first, then brighter, a golden glow pouring from his palms.

Terya’s breath caught as the flesh stitched closed, the wound sealing, though the effort left Leon slumped, drained, his hands shaking.

She cupped his cheek, her bloodied fingers gentle, her voice a faint murmur.

"Still glowing," she said, her smirk faint. "Even when you’re empty."

Another scream—Saria’s voice, sharp and pained.

Leon turned, his heart lurching.

She was staggering, her side torn wide, her black robe fluttering in ruins, blood streaming down her thigh.

A chunk of fabric hung open, one pale pink nipple barely covered by scorched cloth, but she didn’t notice, her sword still raised, her dark eyes fierce but fading.

Leon ran, catching her before she crumpled, dragging her behind a fallen pillar, its bone surface cracked and slick with ichor.

"Dammit—no, no, stay awake," he said, his voice breaking, her blood slicking his arms as he pressed his hands to the wound.

He pushed, willing his magic to spark, but nothing came—his mana was gone, his body empty, his vision swimming.

"Leon...?" A soft voice cut through his panic.

Tila stood behind him, her armor torn, her cheeks flushed, her hands trembling but her brown eyes resolute.

"I saw what you did. With Terya. I know what you need," she said, her voice shaking but steady.

He shook his head, his voice desperate. "There’s no time—"

"There’s still her," Tila said, stepping closer, her shortbow slung across her back.

"You can’t let her die." She pulled her tunic open, her modest breasts exposed, firm and flushed with heat and embarrassment, her skin glowing faintly in the crimson light.

She was shaking, her breath uneven, but she didn’t flinch.

"I don’t know if I’m good at this," she whispered, her voice raw, "but if it helps you save her... use me."

Leon hesitated, his heart racing, but Tila stepped closer, taking his head and guiding it to her chest.

He took her nipple into his mouth—warm, soft, real, the taste of her skin grounding him.

She moaned softly, barely holding it in, her fingers trembling in his hair. Her other hand found his, guiding it downward over her trousers to the damp warmth between her thighs.

She pressed his fingers against her, her lips parting in a quiet gasp as he stroked slowly, her body arching into his touch.

The charge hit immediately, magic surging through him, bright and violent, his skin crackling with fire and wind.

Tila held him a moment longer, her face red but her smile soft through the blush.

"Now go," she whispered, her voice steady despite her trembling.

Leon turned back to Saria, dropping to her side, his hands glowing the second they touched her.

Golden fire poured from his fingers, knitting her wound, the torn flesh sealing, blood slowing.

Her breath returned, ragged but strong, her dark eyes fluttering open, hazy but alive.

He grinned, exhausted, his voice rough. "Still with me?"

Saria reached up, her fingers brushing his jaw, her touch warm despite the blood.

"Always," she said, her voice soft, a rare warmth breaking through her stoic mask.

The three of them rose together.

Terya rejoined, still weak but standing, her torn top barely holding, her green eyes fierce.

Saria’s flames burned hotter, her sword glowing red, her robe loose but her presence unyielding.

Tila hung back, panting, adjusting her tunic with shaking hands, her smile never fading, a quiet strength in her gaze.

Varnyx stood from his throne, his wings unfurling, the air trembling with his power.

"Ah," he said, his voice a low rumble, gold fire bleeding from his eyes. "Now what, you got strong all of a sudden? What a joke."

He stepped forward, four arms unfurling from his sides, each wielding a cursed weapon—a flaming whip, a jagged blade, a spiked mace, a bone spear.

The hall shook, crimson veins pulsing faster, the throne’s corpses twitching as if alive.

Saria raised her blade, her voice steady. "Leon."

He nodded, his magic surging, the bonds with Saria and Terya flaring, Tila’s touch lingering in his veins. "I’m ready."

Terya smirked, her wind magic crackling at her fingertips. "Let’s cut the bastard down."

They charged, the hall erupting in fire, wind, and shadow as the final battle began.