Nocturnal's vision faded, shrouded in darkness as the cold grip of the ocean closed in around him. "I can't... hold my breath any longer," he thought, panic gnawing at his chest. With every passing moment, icy water surged into his lungs, each gulp a reminder of his impending doom. Just as he felt himself slipping into oblivion, a calm and ethereal voice echoed in his mind.
"Life is a precious thing... Would you like to live?" The voice resonated, wrapping around him like a soothing balm. Desperate, he nodded, urgency overriding any caution. "Very well..."
In response, a surge of green energy mixed with flowers erupted from the depths, shooting skyward like a meteor. Bloodhound and Sacred breached the surface, gasping for air as they turned to see the sky transforming into a swirling tempest of green flowers. A radiant light burst forth from the ocean, illuminating a ten-mile radius before vanishing into the ether. In an instant, Nocturnal vanished, and when he opened his eyes again, he found himself gasping for breath as he coughed up water.
"W-where the hell am I?" Nocturnal croaked, disoriented and gasping for air. His surroundings were a blur, his senses overwhelmed by the aftershock of drowning. Before he could gather his bearings, a pair of gentle hands covered his eyes, and a wave of warmth flooded through him, as if the very essence of life was being restored. His wounds began to heal, his body mending with a strange ease, and the sensation of vitality rushed back as though he were being reborn.
"It's okay... just breathe," the soft voice whispered, her presence calming and ethereal. As her words settled around him, Nocturnal inhaled deeply, the air around him heavy with the scent of flowers. The fragrance enveloped him, grounding him in the moment.
As the seconds passed, he felt his mana surge, revitalized by the mysterious energy coursing through him. He raised his hand, only to notice in shock that the missing fingers had returned—his body whole once more. "Who... are you?" he asked, his voice rough but steady, as he raised his hands to remove the woman's hands from his eyes.
What he saw took him by surprise. She stood before him, draped in an immaculate white gown that seemed to shimmer with light. Her long, flowing green hair cascaded down her back, and her eyes—light emerald with a hint of blue—held an ancient, tranquil wisdom.
"I... am not of importance," she answered softly, her voice like a melody. She waved her hands, and in an instant, a dark green shirt materialized on Nocturnal's body, fitting perfectly as though it had always been meant for him.
"It's time to go back now. Your friends think you're dead," she said, her tone serene. She closed her eyes and raised one hand toward the air, and as she did, flowers bloomed around them—each one unfolding with grace. A massive rose unfurled before them, its petals radiant, and the scent of roses filled the room, intoxicating and sweet. Nocturnal's eyelids grew heavy, and before he could protest, sleep overtook him.
In the blink of an eye, he awoke. He found himself back on the boat, chuckling softly as the remnants of the dream faded away. He lay on the cold, hard floor of the vessel, the waves gently rocking beneath him. As his senses sharpened, he saw Sacred and Bloodhound rush from the interior of the boat, their faces full of frantic relief. They froze, eyes wide with disbelief, upon seeing Nocturnal alive and well.
Stiles, SteelArm, and Dante sat quietly on their boat, "So... are we going to talk about it?" Stiles broke the silence, his voice heavy with unspoken questions.
"Not a chance," Dante replied firmly, his gaze fixed on the horizon as he stood up and turned the boat, a clear signal that the conversation was closed for now.
A week passed, and the trio eventually spotted land on the horizon. The boat creaked as it neared a quiet beach, the waves gently lapping against the shore. They disembarked, each of them stepping onto solid ground with varying degrees of relief.
"Anyone got a clue where we are?" Dante asked, scanning the unfamiliar surroundings with a raised eyebrow. The landscape was a strange blend of lush greenery and sprawling beach, but something about it felt... different.
SteelArm squinted at the horizon, his eyes narrowing as he took in the palm trees swaying gently in the breeze. "I think... we've somehow ended up in Hawaii."
Dante's gaze flickered over the scene. The sun hung high in the sky, and the warm air felt almost too peaceful after the chaos they'd left behind. "Hawaii, huh?" Dante muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "Well, it's a hell of a lot better than the island we just escaped."
The three of them began walking down the beach, the unfamiliar surroundings offering no comfort.
Dante approached a local, asking to borrow a phone. After a quick exchange, the man handed it over, and Dante immediately dialed Halstein's number.
"Hey, man. How's it been?" Dante's voice came through with a hint of weariness. "Listen, can we... get a teleport? Somehow, we ended up in Hawaii. Don't ask, I don't wanna talk about it, but we're all fine."
Halstein's response was slow at first, but the relief in his tone was palpable. The month of uncertainty seemed to finally start to lift. "I'll get the teleport ready now. I have a ton of questions, but... I'll give you all some time to rest. Just... get here safe."
Dante hung up, his shoulders sagging as the weight of the situation began to settle. Halstein was finally calming down after all this time.
Moments later, the teleport circle flickered to life around them. The world blurred for a second, and then they were standing in the familiar hallways of the guild. They walked slowly to Halstein's office, exhaustion pulling at their limbs. When they stepped into the room, they collapsed into three comfortable chairs with audible relief.
"I don't think I've ever missed these chairs as much as I do today..." Stiles muttered, closing his eyes and letting the comfort seep into his bones.
Halstein stood by his desk, his gaze sharp but tinged with concern. "So... what happened?"
Dante leaned back in his chair, his eyes still clouded with the memories of the island. He started to speak, recounting everything: the chaos on the island, the storms, and the events that had led to their escape.
For the next two hours, he explained every detail, the weight of each word drawing out the magnitude of their experience. "So yeah..." Dante finished, the exhaustion clear in his voice, "the island's gone. Swallowed by the sea. No trace of it left."
The room was quiet for a moment, the reality of their ordeal settling over Halstein. The silence was only broken by the soft hum of the air conditioning, but even that felt like a distant echo after everything they'd been through.
Halstein let out a deep sigh of relief, his posture relaxing for the first time in what felt like weeks. He ran a hand through his hair and nodded. "Good. You're all safe." His voice was calm but full of gratitude. "You've been through enough. Get some rest. I'll handle things here. You can take the next few days off. Don't worry about anything."
The three of them stood up, their exhaustion evident as they moved toward the door. They silently filed out of Halstein's office, the weight of everything they'd endured slowly sinking in. Once they were in the hallway, Dante spoke up, breaking the silence.
"At least we didn't have to fight those things..." he said, his voice hoarse but with a faint touch of relief.
Stiles and SteelArm both nodded, the shared unspoken understanding hanging in the air between them.
They walked in quiet companionship down the hall, the tension of the past days slowly melting away as they reached their rooms. Without another word, they each retreated to their beds, the soft creak of doors closing behind them the only sound. As soon as their heads hit the pillows, sleep claimed them, and within moments, they were all lost to its embrace, the chaos of their journey finally fading into nothingness.
Halstein sat in his office, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass, his mind still processing everything that had happened. The calm after the storm was an illusion, and the weight of the past few days lingered heavily in the air.
His phone rang, snapping him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the screen and saw Nocturnal's name. With a sigh, he answered.
"Halstein," Nocturnal's voice came through. "I just want a funeral for every member who passed... all at one location. Pay for that with the other half you owe me."
Halstein's brow furrowed slightly, but he didn't argue. "Understood," Halstein replied, his voice calm.
Nocturnal didn't respond, and before Halstein could say anything more, the call ended abruptly.
Halstein stared at the screen for a moment, then sighed again. He opened the message Nocturnal had sent and found the details for the location—a peaceful valley of flowers leading to a cliff that overlooked the water. The place sounded beautiful, a fitting place for remembrance.
He placed his phone down with a sigh and stood up, gazing out the window as the sun dipped below the horizon. "At least... everything is fine now... mostly everything." he muttered quietly, the weight of the day slowly lifting from his shoulders.
The woman with long green hair sat on a chair made from flowers, her silhouette framed by a window carved into the shape of a tree, the view opening up to the vast ocean beyond. She closed her eyes, her thoughts drifting like the breeze, and spoke softly to herself. "Viviana... Principle of Life. That is my name." As she spoke, vibrant flowers bloomed around her, their petals glowing in the dimming light. She took a deep breath, and her voice, filled with the essence of life itself, began to hum a melody—a song that resonated with the heartbeat of the earth.
Her voice filled the room, gentle yet powerful, as if the very air around her vibrated with vitality. After a moment, she rose gracefully, her presence as calming as the calmest breeze, and walked toward a wooden door, its edges ornate like the intricate design of an ancient tree. She paused before the door, her fingers brushing the surface, and with a final look back, she whispered, "This... is the end for now."
With a soft sigh, she stepped through the wooden door, closing it slowly behind her. The air inside remained still, yet alive, as roses and cherry blossoms unfurled in quiet elegance, their petals swaying as if touched by an unseen breeze, filling the room with a lingering fragrance of serenity.