Reincarnated as a Healer : Why are my powers so filthy?

Terya caught Leon watching, her green eyes glinting with mischief.

"Eyes up, naughty-boy," she teased over her shoulder, her voice a sultry purr. "Or at least try not to trip over your own tongue."

"Can't help it if the scenery's distracting," Leon shot back, his grin lightening the tension, his wind magic pulsing stronger with her presence.

A few laughs echoed, even from Lysette, her fiery edge softened by the moment.

Zara grunted, a faint smirk breaking through as she sliced another vine.

The mist thickened in the next chamber, bones littering the floor in symmetrical, ritualistic shapes, their surfaces pulsing with red light.

An altar at the far end glowed, veins of the Veil webbing up the walls, their hum a low threat.

As they advanced, another wall shimmered, revealing a stairwell spiraling downward, hidden until Leon's beam brushed it.

He cast a wind arc, scattering a wave of creeping vines, their crimson tendrils snapping like broken threads.

Terya's smirk widened, her hand brushing his arm.

"You're getting good at that," she murmured, her voice warm, her green eyes sparkling. "Confident."

Leon gave a small shrug, his grin faint but genuine. "Had good teachers."

Lysette stepped forward, her emerald eyes studying the stairwell, her light magic flaring to illuminate the path.

"This temple is luring us deeper for a reason," she said, her voice regaining its edge. "The illusions will only get worse."

"Then we stay grounded," Zara said, her voice firm, her axe ready.

She touched Leon's shoulder briefly as she passed, her calloused fingers lingering, her blue eyes steady with trust.

"You're the only one who can see through it. Keep doing what you're doing."

Leon nodded, his heart steady despite the mounting pressure.

Each step deeper into the temple felt like plunging into a dream stitched with nightmares, the Crimson Veil's whispers growing louder, more insistent.

But Terya's wind guided the path, Lysette's light warded the lies, and Zara's steel guarded their backs.

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The Lysaran temple's crimson veins pulsed stronger with each step deeper into its heart, the air thickening with the Crimson Veil's oppressive presence.

Bone altars lined the walls, their surfaces webbed with pulsing red veins, dripping sap like molten rubies, the temple's once-sacred hope now a bleeding wound of despair.

Leon led the way now, his reforged dagger glinting at his belt, his wind and light magic pulsing faintly in his chest.

Terya followed close, her leather armor tight against her curves, her blonde hair catching the faint glow of the temple's sigils, her green eyes scanning for traps.

Zara guarded the rear, her axe slung across her back, her silver hair damp, her curse marks faintly glowing, her blue eyes sharp despite the pain etched in her grimace.

Lysette moved beside her, her white robe torn at the thigh, revealing the firm curve of her leg, her light magic flickering as she braced against the Veil's whispers.

The shadow mist rose without warning, billowing from the bone altars like smoke from a dying fire, curling around the group, obscuring vision, distorting sound.

It didn't attack with blades but with fear, the Veil's cruelest weapon. Lysette froze mid-step, her emerald eyes glazing, her staff falling with a hollow clatter.

Her robe caught on a shard of bone, ripping further to reveal trembling, pale skin beneath, her light magic flickering violently before vanishing.

She fell to her knees, hands clutching her head, her voice brittle. "No… not again—don't show me that again!"

Terya lunged forward, but a shadow-beast exploded from the mist, its serrated claws swiping for her.

"Watch it!" Zara roared, her axe flashing through the air, splitting the creature in half in a spray of black ichor.

She stood over Terya, her curse marks glowing faintly, her breathing heavy, her bronze skin slick with sweat.

Their eyes locked, Terya's green gaze meeting Zara's blue, a shaky smile breaking through.

"I had that," Terya teased, her voice breathless, her leather top straining as she rose.

Zara's expression softened, a rare warmth flickering, before her gaze shifted to Leon, who stepped toward Lysette, his eyes calm, focused.

"Leon—" Terya started, but stopped, seeing the resolve in his stance.

He extended his hand, wind coiling in his palm, guided by a shimmer of light from his fingertips.

His breath was slow, centered, the Veil's whispers fading under his focus.

A radiant arc burst forth, a fusion of wind and light slashing through the mist around Lysette with divine force, scattering the shadowy tendrils in all directions.

The whispers stopped, the illusion shattered, the temple's air clearing for a moment.

Lysette gasped, her emerald eyes wide, blinking as if waking from a nightmare.

Her auburn hair clung to her sweat-soaked face, her robe tattered, her expression caught between relief and shame.

"Leon…" she whispered, her voice trembling.

He knelt beside her, offering his hand, his golden warmth grounding her.

She took it, her fingers trembling, clinging tightly.

"I saw them all die," she murmured, her voice raw. "Again. And I couldn't move."

"You're not alone now," Leon said gently, his voice steady, his light magic pulsing faintly through their touch. "And you didn't fail them. You're still fighting."

Her lips parted as if to protest, but no words came.

Instead, she leaned against him, her head resting briefly against his shoulder, her grip tightening on his arm, not defiance but raw, unfiltered need.

The moment held, her warmth a quiet anchor against the temple's gloom.

Terya came up beside them, her fingers brushing Leon's back, her green eyes soft with pride.

"That was beautiful," she murmured, her voice warm, her leather top torn, revealing the curve of her collarbone.

Zara moved to the front, her axe dripping with beast blood, her blue eyes meeting Leon's.

No words passed, but her nod, was a confession of trust, her curse marks pulsing faintly but her stance unyielding.

"Keep moving," she said, her voice firm, leading the way.

The temple groaned under its own weight, its crimson veins pulsing louder as they pressed deeper.

More traps awaited—vines slithering from walls, illusions shimmering in corners—but they were ready.

The Veil's whispers persisted, but their voices were no longer louder than the heartbeat of the group standing together, their trust a beacon in the temple's heart as they descended toward the Catacombs of Sorrow.