CHAPTER 264: CHAPTER 260 – THE FLOWERS OF DEATH BLOOM ONCE MORE

The scent of iron and blood still filled the air.

The sky, once deep crimson, slowly shifted into a dusky violet but there was no peace beneath it.

The battlefield was scarred with gaping craters and black fractures, as if the world itself refused to stay whole after such devastation.

Sylvia stood in the midst of a silent sea of corpses.

The night wind drifted softly, carrying the faint clink of chains brushing against her body. The sunlight that had finally broken through the clouds seemed dim, hesitant to pierce the lingering aura of death that blanketed the land.

Celes, Aurellia, Alicia, and Stacia stood not far behind her.

They were exhausted, faces pale, clothes torn but none dared to speak. All eyes were fixed on Sylvia’s back, a living shadow standing amidst a half-dead world.

Sylvia raised her gaze.

Her crimson eyes swept across the field to the countless unmoving bodies, both undead and darkborn who had long sworn loyalty to her.

They were everywhere; some shattered beyond recognition, others still intact but lifeless, their glow extinguished.

Her lips parted softly.

Her voice was gentle, yet carried the weight of the world.

"...They fought for me."

At the eastern edge of the field, Velthya stood trembling. Her face was streaked with blood, her silver hair tangled, her wolf’s tail matted and torn. Her breathing was ragged, but her eyes remained sharp.

When Sylvia approached, Velthya tried to straighten, but her knees buckled.

"Don’t move," Sylvia said quietly, her tone calm, yet absolute.

She knelt before the wounded lycan, examining the deep gash across her chest a claw mark that had nearly pierced her heart.

"This wound..."

Sylvia’s eyes narrowed as she placed her hand on Velthya’s chest.

"It’s deep. You should be dead."

Velthya gave a faint, breathless laugh, blood staining her lips.

"If I die, who’ll keep those wild mutts in line? I promised I’d live until you told me to stop, Sylvia."

Sylvia looked at her for a long moment.

Then just barely a fragile smile touched her pale face.

"Still as stubborn as ever."

She rose slowly, gazing across the silent field.

"So many are gone..."

Her right hand lifted slightly.

"And all of it... under my watch."

A dim violet light began to glow around her fingers.

The black chains that hung in the air stirred, circling Sylvia like the petals of a flower yet to bloom.

But unlike before, this aura carried no destruction. Only stillness and something faintly resembling life.

Celes frowned. "Sylvia... what are you..."

"Silence."

Sylvia’s voice was calm but commanding enough to hush the entire battlefield.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Phantom Bloom – Rebirth Form."

A faint chime echoed.

From the ground, black tendrils sprouted then slowly transformed into dark blossoms, each with a faint violet light at its heart.

They opened one by one, covering the plains with a soft, pulsing glow like a heartbeat.

The oppressive aura of death shifted.

Instead of devouring, it began to draw something back from beyond the veil.

Sylvia’s eyes opened, the light within them blazing. From the soil rose countless glimmers like spirits waiting for her call.

Aurellia’s lips parted. "That’s... not healing magic..."

Stacia’s eyes widened. "No. That’s pure death energy reversed. She’s forcing the world’s current to bring the dead back..."

Celes whispered, "That’s impossible."

But one by one, the violet flowers bloomed fully.

From within their petals, light seeped into the fallen bodies scattered across the battlefield.

Shattered zombies stirred, their bones knitting back together. Vampires whose hearts had been crushed drew breath again, their pale skin pulsing with dark vitality.

In the distance, the lycanthropes who had fallen began to move; their pale fur darkened, their wounds sealed shut.

And not just them, the remaining undead still standing were bathed in the same magic. Their energy surged, hollow eyes flaring brighter than ever before.

Velthya gasped as a cold warmth spread through her chest. The fatal wound over her heart closed with a soft violet shimmer.

She looked at Sylvia, eyes trembling.

"Sylvia... this..."

"Rise, Velthya," Sylvia said softly without turning.

"The world isn’t done testing us."

Velthya clenched her fist and slowly stood. Her breath was heavy, but the pain was gone. "I... have returned," she whispered.

Yet with every blossom that bloomed, Sylvia’s face grew paler. Her breathing became shallow; the purple mist around her flickered. The chains trembled violently, as if trying to restrain something slipping beyond control.

"Sylvia!" Celes shouted, stepping forward. "That’s draining your mana too fast! Stop!"

Sylvia gave a faint smile, her half-lidded eyes dim.

"It’s fine..." she murmured. "They deserve life... even if only once more."

A droplet of black blood fell from her chin, landing on one of the blossoms at her feet. It flared brightly for a moment then wilted gently, not in death, but as if its purpose had been fulfilled.

In that strange, sacred silence, the final flower bloomed. And the world fell quiet again.

Thousands of darkborn and undead now stood once more upon the field. Not all were saved, many remained still, their bodies or souls beyond reach. But those who had returned knelt deeply before Sylvia.

Aurellia watched in awe, her expression unreadable.

"You just performed resurrection... not of death, but life born from death."

Sylvia looked at her trembling hand.

"The flowers of death... were never meant to bloom twice," she whispered.

"But... for them, I broke that law."

The last light of Phantom Bloom – Rebirth faded, leaving the battlefield bathed in the purple hues of twilight.

Celes approached carefully, catching Sylvia’s body as it swayed.

"My Queen," she whispered, "please... rest now."

Sylvia met her gaze and smiled faintly.

"I’m fine."

But everyone could see in the dim red of her eyes that she had nothing left to give.

Above them, the fading flowers of violet death released a faint, incense-like fragranc.... the scent of mourning and of life reborn beneath the banner of the Queen of Death.

.....

Velthya had only just managed to stand upright when Sylvia’s body wavered.

The violet aura surrounding her dissolved, the black vines crumbling to dust.

"Sylvia...?" Velthya whispered.

Sylvia tried to answer, but her voice vanished with her shallow breath.

She tried to take a step forward, but her legs felt heavy as though the world itself was pulling her down.

The red glow in her eyes dimmed; each blink seemed to carry the weight of centuries.

Celes rushed to her. "Sylvia! Hey, stay with me!"

She caught the Queen before she could fall.

Sylvia’s skin was cold as ice, her body fragile as though her magic had drained every ounce of strength she had left.

Aurellia knelt beside her, disbelief written on her face. "She really used it... to the very end..."

Alicia clutched her lantern tightly, its blue light trembling.

"That spell forced life itself to rekindle the dead. That’s not ordinary magic, that’s..."

Stacia finished in a low voice, "...the magic of gods."

Sylvia’s hair had fallen loose, strands covering part of her pale face. At the corner of her lips lingered a faint, peaceful smile, beautiful, and unbearably painful to see.

"Our Queen..." Celes whispered, looking up at the twilight sky now fading into night.

"Even when everyone else stops... she always takes one step further."

Velthya clenched her fists and lowered her head.

"Then this time... let her rest. It’s our turn to stand guard."

The night wind drifted softly once more. The remaining violet flowers around Sylvia swayed gently, releasing a dim, soothing light. And within that glow, the Queen of the Dead slept in silence as if the world itself had chosen to pause for a moment,

to honor her slumber.

.....

The night sky descended slowly, bringing with it faint stars veiled behind the lingering violet mist that had yet to fade.

In the middle of the silent battlefield, Sylvia lay peacefully in Celes’s arms. Her breathing was barely audible, soft, light but still present. The faint purple glow surrounding her body pulsed weakly, as if the world itself refused to extinguish the last remaining light.

Celes gazed at her for a long time. Her fingers clasped the Queen’s cold hand, searching for the faintest trace of life.

"She’s still alive," she murmured more to reassure herself than to confirm it.

Aurellia knelt beside them, her eyes fixed on Sylvia’s pale face.

"But she’s completely drained. Her mana, her vitality perhaps even part of her soul has been consumed as the price for that spell."

Velthya stood nearby, her shoulders still stained with blood that hadn’t been cleaned. Her expression was sharp yet gentle.

"She’s done more than anyone in this field. We need to move her now... before the underworld’s mist drains her energy again."

Stacia nodded, opening her cracked grimoire.

"I can create a temporary stasis field but it won’t last long."

Alicia stepped forward, the blue light of her lantern glowing softly once more.

"Then we make it last long enough for her to wake up on her own."

Celes looked down at Sylvia’s face one more time before slowly nodding.

"Alright. We’re going back to the Castle."

Velthya bowed her head, then let out a low, resonant howl toward the sky, a sound deep and heavy, the signal for all surviving forces to gather.

Zombies, vampires, lycanthropes, and other darkborn races responded in solemn silence. They made no noise, no sudden movements, for everyone knew that night was not a night of victory.