CHAPTER 51: The Flowers Spoke

A brilliant, blinding light engulfed the battlefield.

The moment Leina unleashed Finalist, the world shifted.

A massive sigil expanded beneath her feet, glowing with an ethereal radiance that stretched across the entire field. The air itself seemed to tremble, as if reality was bending under the overwhelming force of magic.

Then—

The spell activated.

A massive shockwave of magic erupted, engulfing the entire area in its expansive force.

Everyone had witnessed something beyond comprehension.

"That charge of the magic.."

A devastating force that nobody could withstand—except those beyond its reach.

It was not meant for them.

It was meant for the High Greed.

A pulse of pure energy erupted, swallowing the entire size of the Lunaflora.

Its monstrous form convulsed, its roots shriveling under the spell’s immense power.

A single hit.

A single cataclysmic impact.

The earth trembled violently.

Then—

Silence.

The earth beneath them quivered, as if in awe of the power that had just been released.

A howling gust of wind surged outward.

The sheer force of the spell’s aftermath sent everyone stumbling back—bodies bracing against the impact.

Everyone—

Except Sakura.

She stood firm.

Her emerald eyes locked ahead, unfazed by the tempest raging around her.

Because she saw it.

She saw the last remaining piece of darkness struggling to remain.

The Abysmal Bead.

The dark energy clung to it desperately, its essence cracking, shattering—

And Sakura moved.

She sprinted forward, her Jagged Rapture Blade glinting as she raced toward the heart of the corruption.

This was it.

Then—a flash.

The world shifted.

The air inside the dreamscape was thick—not with magic, but with sorrow.

A grief so deep, so profound, it felt as though it had seeped into the very ground beneath her feet.

Sakura stood still, her breath steady as she absorbed the heavy silence.

The garden inside the bakery was wilted, lifeless, its flowers shriveled and forgotten. The only bloom that remained was the Lunaflora in Isla’s trembling hands, its glow faint—barely holding on.

The dim, red light bathed everything in a hollow glow, reflecting the storm of emotions swirling inside Isla’s broken heart.

She sat there, her grip on the flower tightening, her shoulders trembling.

Her voice—weak, fragile—cracked as she spoke.

“Nobody trusted me… Nobody likes me anymore…”

Her words hung in the air, soaked in agony.

“Everyone hates me.”

A tremor ran through her fingers. Her breathing hitched, as if the very act of speaking made her pain even more unbearable.

“It’s all because of me.”

Her chest heaved, her face contorted in raw grief.

“I was always a disappointment—”

Her voice broke.

”…Never an acknowledgment.”

“Never enough.”

The weight of those words felt heavier than the battlefield Sakura had just left.

The rawness in Isla’s voice—the deep, relentless despair—it was more painful than any wound.

Sakura stepped forward.

Slowly. Carefully.

Then—she knelt before her.

She didn’t say anything at first.

She simply stayed there.

Letting Isla’s grief exist—not pushing it away.

Because she knew.

This wasn’t a pain that could be erased with mere words.

This was a lifetime of being unseen.

A lifetime of being misunderstood.

The moment Sakura handed over the blue ball, Isla’s gaze fell upon it.

For a brief second—something shifted in her expression.

A flicker of recognition.

As if, deep within, a memory had stirred.

Her fingers hesitated before reaching out, her touch barely grazing the worn surface of the toy.

Her lips parted slightly, as if the name had slipped out before she could even think.

“Patty…”

A memory surfaced—faint at first, like a whisper from the past.

And two children.

A younger Isla, beaming with excitement, held out a small box wrapped in simple paper.

“Happy birthday!” Isla said, her voice filled with uncontainable joy.

Across from her stood Patty—grumpy as always.

She took the box with little enthusiasm, her brows furrowed as she tore the wrapping apart.

Inside—

A blue ball.

Patty stared at it.

Then—

“Seriously…?” she muttered, her unimpressed tone cutting through the air.

Isla felt her heart sink.

Had she chosen wrong?

Her fingers fidgeted slightly before she forced a small chuckle.

“Isn’t that what you always played with?” she asked, trying to mask her worry.

She leaned forward, her eyes shining with hope.

“So… I bought you one!”

For a moment, Patty didn’t say anything.

She just stared at the ball.

Then—without another word, she turned away, grumbling under her breath.

Isla’s heart tightened.

She thought Patty didn’t like it.

She thought—perhaps—she had disappointed her friend.

But then…

Every time they baked together, Isla noticed something.

Tucked in the corner of the bakery, among the old flour sacks and wooden shelves—

The blue ball was always there.

It was never thrown away.

Never lost.

It was always kept.

A quiet warmth filled Isla’s chest as she smiled softly, realizing the truth.

Even if Patty never said it out loud—

“She didn’t manage to say sorry.”

Sakura’s voice was gentle, but it carried the weight of a truth Isla had refused to face.

“So I’m sending this on her behalf.”

For the first time—Isla’s eyes widened.

Everything—the pain, the resentment, the loneliness—it all shattered in an instant.

She had been so consumed by grief, so lost in the belief that no one had ever truly loved her…

That she had forgotten.

Forgotten the one who had always been by her side.

The one who shielded her.

The one who stood up for her when he—that man—had tried to hurt her.

Patty.

Her oldest friend.

Her first friend.

The one who, despite everything—never left.

A broken sob tore from Isla’s lips.

Her tears fell—unstoppable, uncontained.

Each drop carried a weight too heavy for words, as if years of buried emotions had finally spilled free.

Her fingers clutched the ball tightly against her chest, as if holding onto it would somehow rewind time—bring back the moments she had taken for granted.

Her shoulders shook.

“Patty…” her voice came out fragile, a whisper drenched in sorrow.

Her vision blurred, the garden around her dimming into nothing but regrets.

She had forgotten.

She had blamed herself for everything, convinced that she was undeserving of love, unwanted, unworthy—

But Patty had always been there.

Even when she didn’t realize it.

Even when Isla had pushed everyone away.

Even when she let herself fall into darkness.

Patty had never let go.

Isla squeezed the ball tighter, pressing it against her heart as her knees buckled beneath her.

A choked sob—raw, broken.

The Abyssmal Bead, pulsing with deep, haunting energy, reached its final moment.

Cracks webbed across its surface.

Light bled through the fractures, splitting the dark core from within—its once overwhelming presence now fragile, on the verge of collapse.

Sakura exhaled, stepping back.

Her surroundings had changed.

The sorrowful garden was gone.

Instead—she stood amidst an endless white horizon.

The air was light. Weightless.

Clouds drifted beneath her feet, an ocean of soft brilliance stretching endlessly in every direction.

She had never seen anything like this before.

And then—

A figure.

Isla.

She stood at the edge of the horizon, her delicate dress fluttering in the unseen breeze.

Her face, once marred by grief, now glowed with peace.

The Lunaflora rested gently in her hands, its petals shimmering under the ethereal light.

Sakura stared, momentarily breathless.

Isla looked… beautiful.

Not in a way that spoke of vanity, but in a way that radiated warmth, serenity—freedom.

She turned.

And across the horizon—he was there.

The man from before.

But this time—he wasn’t the same.

Gone was the broken, bitter figure lost in his own darkness.

This version of him stood tall, his presence no longer weighed down by resentment.

He, too, held a Lunaflora, its glow intertwining with Isla’s, their light merging into something whole.

They faced each other.

The weight of a lifetime—forgiven in silence.

Then—they turned toward Sakura.

Their gazes met hers, their smiles gentle, warm… eternal.

A light breeze carried their final words—soft, grateful.

“Thank you, Vessel.”

And then—

The Abyssmal Bead shattered.

A violent surge of wind erupted outward, twisting in chaotic spirals, scattering dust and debris in every direction.

Everyone braced themselves—digging their feet into the earth, shielding their faces, gripping their weapons tightly.

But Sakura—

She stood unmoving.

Alone amidst the storm.

Her hand lingered in the empty space where the Abyssmal Bead had once been.

Her fingers—still reaching, still holding on—as if she could still feel its presence.

Leina, catching her breath, turned—and froze.

She saw it.

Sakura was untouched.

The winds howled, tearing through the battlefield with an unforgiving force—yet she remained, standing in absolute stillness.

The abyssal energy, once suffocating, once wild and uncontrollable—

Now swirled around her.

And then—

It collapsed inward.

The darkness, the twisted corruption that had plagued Velmore for so long—

It was being drawn back.

Sucked into the core.

Leina’s breath hitched.

She can hold it—like it’s nothing.

As if it had never been a threat to her in the first place.

As if it had always belonged in her hands.

And then—
The core pulsed.

Once.

A final, quiet heartbeat.

Then—

It vanished.

A flicker of light. A whisper of darkness.

Gone—into nothingness.

And with it—

Everything shifted.

The fog that once smothered the sky began to lift, carried away by a gentle breeze.

The suffocating weight dispersed, replaced by the soft rustle of wind.

Above them, the sky cleared—bright, endless, free.

And in that newfound stillness, cherry blossom petals drifted through the air, dancing softly, weightless and unburdened.

And there she stood—
the blue ball in her hand.