The cool night air greeted Leon and the party as they emerged from the demon's lair, the moon casting a pale glow over the rocky hillside.
Terya walked upright, her blonde hair catching the light, her face clear of the curse's dark tendrils, though her steps were still shaky from the ordeal.
Saria led with her usual stoic grace, her black ponytail swaying, her sword sheathed but her fiery aura faintly flickering.
Tila bounced with energy, her shortbow slung over her shoulder, while Boren trudged behind, his spear tapping the ground, his gruff demeanor softened by the victory.
Leon's body ached, the ritual's intensity and the fight with Kalthor leaving him drained, but the new bond with Terya—a cool, airy pulse in his chest—kept his spirits high.
I did it, he thought, his sneakers scuffing the dirt. Saved her. Fought a demon. Didn't faint.
The villagers waited at the forest's edge, their faces tense with anticipation.
When they saw Terya, alive and uncursed, a stunned silence fell, broken by a single, slow clap.
It grew into a rhythm, then a roar, the crowd's cheers echoing through the trees.
A child pointed at Leon, eyes wide.
"He healed her!" she shouted, her voice carrying over the din.
Boren grunted, his scarred face twitching with a rare hint of approval. "And fought," he said, his voice rough. "Didn't run."
Tila beamed, nudging Leon's arm. "You came through, Doc!" she said, her grin infectious. "Told you you're a big deal!"
Leon's throat tightened, his face flushing as he raised a hand, waving awkwardly.
"I'm just trying to keep people alive," he said, his voice cracking slightly. The words felt honest, raw, not the grand hero speech he'd imagined in his anime-fueled dreams.
But the crowd's cheers grew louder, and for the first time, he felt like he belonged in this world.
Terya limped to his side, her green eyes glinting with mischief despite her exhaustion.
She leaned close, her breath warm against his ear.
"And you look damn good doing it," she whispered, her voice sultry, sending a shiver through him.
Her leather vest creaked as she straightened, her smirk wide.
Leon's blush deepened, his mind flashing to the ritual—her moans, Saria's guiding hands, the surge of magic.
"Uh, thanks," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, his grin sheepish but genuine.
Saria's eyes flicked to them, her face a blank mask, but she gave a single nod, her tone firm.
"Enough," she said, her voice cutting through the cheers. "Back to Eldwood. We have work to do."
The village's firepit glowed in the central square, casting shadows as the townsfolk gathered, their faces a mix of relief and resolve.
Saria stood at the center, her presence commanding despite her understated demeanor.
"No time for drink or rest," she barked, her voice carrying over the crackling flames. "This was one lair. Vraxus still draws breath, and his army isn't finished."
She turned to Boren, her eyes sharp. "We need fighters—anyone who can lift steel. Train them. Arm them. We leave soon."
Boren nodded, his spear leaning against his shoulder. "I'll whip 'em into shape," he said, his voice gruff but steady.
Saria's gaze shifted to Tila. "Gather the wounded. Anyone who can walk to the chapel does. Leon will heal them."
Leon blinked, his heart skipping.
"All of them?" he said, his voice a mix of surprise and nerves. The weight of her trust hit him hard, and he swallowed, standing taller.
"You're the healer," Saria said, meeting his eyes, her tone unyielding but laced with confidence.
"Earn your fire."
No praise, just trust.
It was enough to make Leon's chest swell, his earlier doubts fading.
I can do this, he thought, his hand brushing the dagger at his belt.
Terya smirked, elbowing him gently.
"Better start stretching those fingers, hero," she teased, her voice playful. "You'll be putting them all over people soon." Her wink sent a flush through him, and he groaned, half-laughing.
"Give me a break," he said, his grin widening. "I'm already sweating."
That night, the chapel's back chamber was quiet, its stone walls lit by a single lantern.
Saria was gone, buried in logistics and barked orders, her steady presence missed in the small, incense-scented room.
Leon sat on a wooden bench, his satchel open, sorting through his remaining herbs—glowcaps, silverleaf, starbloom—his hands still tingling from the ritual's magic.
The new bond with Terya pulsed in his chest, a cool breeze alongside Saria's fiery warmth, and he couldn't help but marvel at it.
Fire and wind. Who'd have thought?