Chapter 40. I’m a Biased Healer!
Succubi Chapter 40. I’m a Biased Healer!
The crowd was still buzzing, people slowly dispersing, talking about the fight like they’d just witnessed a pro league match.
Leon was flat on his back grinning like a lunatic.
Ares looked like someone had punted his pride straight into the sun.
Evelyn? She was calm, collected, arms crossed, watching it all like a bored queen who just got through another Tuesday.
I took a big bite of my baguette, chewing slowly, satisfied. Life was good. I was full. My best friend just threw hands with a glorified holy knight and lived.
Then came the voice behind me.
“You said you’re a healer, right?”
I froze mid-chew.
Another voice chimed in, annoyed. “Yeah! You said that back there to get to the front.”
“Oh crap,” I muttered, turning slightly.
A small cluster of dudes stood there. Mostly Ares’s fanboys, judging by their matching smug faces and definitely overpriced cloaks. A few looked like they just watched their childhood hero get bodied live. Their disappointment was personal.
“You’re a healer, aren’t you?” one of them repeated.
I slowly swallowed my bite. “I mean… not technically…”
They didn’t like that answer. A whole wave of glares hit me like AoE passive aggression.
I heard the mental group chant clear as day.
Liar!
Fraud!
Impostor!
Disgrace to baguette kind!
I raised a finger. “Okay, listen, that was—”
But then I heard something beside me.
Sera.
She stood up. Not fast. Not annoyed. Just… like gravity was trying to hold her down and she was politely declining.
She lazily padded toward the center of the arena, posture slouched and pace a perfect 1/10 speedrun.
“Tch.” I clicked my tongue. “Fine.”
I stood up, brushing crumbs off my lap, and followed her.
I wasn’t really mad. I mean, healing Leon? Yeah, sure. That’s my boy.
But Ares? And that assassin guy who looked like someone dunked him in Evelyn’s personal shadow blender? Nah. They could stew.
I stepped into the arena, the mana-forged tiles cool under my feet, still crackling faintly with leftover enchantments. The air was thick with post-battle energy—burnt ozone, scorched magic, and a faint note of something sweet I couldn’t place.
Maybe Leon’s wolf sweat.
Maybe Evelyn’s weird perfume.
Leon was still on the ground, hands behind his head, legs spread like he’d just finished a spa day.
I leaned over him.
“Yo,” I said, smirking.
He cracked one eye open. Then both. “Hey, Evan!”
I was about to say something cool. Like ‘Nice job, champ,’ or ‘You punched him so hard I felt it in my bloodline.’
But no.
He sat up, snatched my smoothie and the rest of my bread straight out of my hands like I was a human vending machine.
“Nice! You’re the best, Evan. Thanks!” he said mid-chew, voice muffled by literal baguette.
I blinked. “Did you just—?”
He sipped. “Mmm. Still cold. Dude. Hero move.”
I cringed, but also... yeah. I got it. Werewolf metabolism was crazy.
Food = power.
And Leon? He was basically a Border Collie with fists and a punchable grin. Can’t stay mad.
“Alright, sit still,” I said, cracking my knuckles. “I’ll heal you.”
He blinked. “Wait, really?”
I nodded. Then raised my hand, activating the skill.
[Skill Activated: Dark Healing][Effect: +680 HP over 4 seconds. Stamina regen: +20%. Buff: Minor Pain Resistance.]
Dark mist coiled out from my palm, like ink spilled underwater. It wrapped around Leon’s body like a lazy ribbon, sinking into his skin without so much as a sting. The mana had weight—cool and thick—almost like velvet laced with static. His wounds pulsed once, then began to close. Bruises faded. Cuts sealed. Even the burn marks from Ares’s fire slashes dulled to faint red lines.
Leon looked down at himself. “Whoa. That’s… new. You using healing spells is like… I dunno. Watching a cat do taxes.”
“Rude,” I muttered.
“But weirdly effective,” he added quickly. “Kinda like… gentle necromancy.”
“It’s a normal healing skill,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Not death magic. Totally different department.”
“Still looks like you’re bribing death to go away.”
I sighed. “You want me to stop?”
“NOPE.” He sat up straighter, holding the smoothie like a sacred chalice. “You do whatever you want, Mr. Medic. I am thriving.”
Evelyn finally approached, arms crossed. She glanced at me, then at Leon, then at the smoothie. “Where’s mine?”
“Uh, sorry. I only have one. I got it from my instructor.”
She huffed, looking disappointed, then walked right past to go check on the assassin dude she’d casually humiliated. She crouched, muttered something to him, probably something like ‘get better or get lost.’
Ares, meanwhile, was still hunched over on one knee. Pride bleeding out of him like a popped mana balloon. He looked up at me as I walked by.
“Don’t even think about it,” I said flatly.
“I didn’t ask,” he replied coldly.
“Good.”
But then one of his guys from earlier yelled, “You healed him! You can’t just pick sides!”
I turned, raised both hands, and smiled with every ounce of fake innocence I could summon. “Sure I can. I’m a biased healer.”
“You said—!”
“Yeah, I lie. A lot.” I pointed at my face. “Look at me. Do I look like a holy priest to you?”
That shut them up.
Sera finally reached the group. She walked past all of us, plopped down near Leon, and immediately laid flat on the tile floor like she was claiming it as bed property.
“Done walking,” she mumbled.
“You did great,” I told her, patting her head. “Ten steps in record time.”
She lifted a hand, fingers forming a peace sign. “I live for recognition.”
Leon flopped down next to her, sipping his drink like life was perfect again. “We should do this every week.”
“You want to get your ribs broken every week?” I asked.
“Only the left ones.”
Evelyn rejoined us, stepping over a chunk of broken arena tile. “Everything’s fine. Other guy’s conscious. Ares is embarrassed. Leon’s fine.”
Meanwhile, Sera was still laying there like the arena floor was a five-star mattress. Her cheek was smushed against the stone tile. If drooling was legal in public, she was two seconds away from earning a fine.
Then she groaned softly, sat up like someone yanked her soul halfway back into her body, and muttered, “Right… I need to heal them.”
I blinked. “Wait, what? Why?”
Sera rubbed one eye. “’Cause… to get permission for this match, Evelyn dragged me here to get it.”
I tilted my head. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” she sighed, standing up in slow motion like gravity was extra clingy today, “that to hold an official duel like this, the academy requires either a teacher, an instructor… or at minimum, a capable healer to supervise and make sure no one dies.”
I blinked. “That’s the minimum?!”
“Yeah,” Sera said, wobbling a little as she stretched her arms. “So. Guess who got dragged here because she’s technically certified.”
I blinked again. “Wait… that healer is… you?”
She pointed at herself with her thumb. “House of Saints, remember?”
I groaned and smacked my forehead. “Right.”
Of course. Evelyn didn’t bring Sera for moral support. She brought her as a walking, yawning, nap-hungry legal stamp of approval. A lazy lifeguard with divine magic.
Sera wandered toward the middle of the arena where the mystery assassin dude still looked half-dead—leaning against the wall, a cut on his eyebrow slowly bleeding down the side of his face.
She approached him with all the urgency of a sloth that just spotted a couch.
“...Heal,” she muttered.
Her hand glowed with soft, dark blue light, barely brighter than a nightlight. The magic was quiet, cool, and slow. Like it didn’t want to disturb anyone.
The light sank into his body. And just like that—his wounds vanished. No scars, no blood, not even the tiniest bruise left behind.
He blinked, stunned. “I… I feel completely restored.”
Sera yawned. “Yeah. That’s the point.”
She turned and walked toward Ares next, moving through the scorched battlefield like someone doing grocery shopping on a lazy Sunday.
I crossed my arms. “I still think I should’ve done it.”
Leon raised a brow. “Why?”
“Because if I were Sera,” I said, lowering my voice, “I’d have half healed him.”
Leon blinked. “Wait, like…?”
“Three-fourths, maybe,” I added, grinning. “Just enough that the wounds are gone, but the pain stays.”
Leon let out a snort. “Evan, that’s evil.”
“Correction. That’s petty.”
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