Elliott managed a tired smile as he leaned back against the rock, feeling the fatigue seep into his muscles. The broken blade lay forgotten at his side, its shattered steel glinting under the dim sky. His friends' relief was palpable, and the moment felt like a fragile sigh of victory.
Joker and Kyora hurried to him, eyes wide with concern as they checked him for any serious wounds. Joker's usually playful grin was tempered by a serious edge, while Kyora's energetic chatter now had a tinge of worry.
"I'm okay, guys, thank you," Elliott reassured them, voice rasping from exhaustion. "I hope none of you got hurt."
Before they could reply, a familiar burst of laughter and the sound of rushing wind broke through the air. A moment later, Tarot came into view, riding his cloud with a wild flourish. He skidded to a comical stop, nearly tripping and flailing his arms for balance before righting himself with an exaggerated bow.
"Yo, guys! Found ya!" Tarot said, eyes sparkling with excitement as he stood up straight, one hand on his hip and the other giving a thumbs-up. The thunderous storm behind him crackled and sputtered, making his cloud bob and tremble as if it, too, was cheering.
"T-Tarot. You're back! What happened to that girl?" Kyora called out, her voice bright with hope. She glanced at Elliott, unsure of what to expect but desperately wanting some good news after the ordeal they'd just endured.
Tarot scratched the back of his head, grinning sheepishly as if he were the most carefree, mischievous trickster to ever wield a staff. "All's been taken care of. Done deal, easy game," he said, winking as if he had just finished a minor errand. "But I gotta say, I didn't expect this... thunderstorm block party happening over here. What gives, huh? Did I miss the invite?"
Joker, unable to resist the tension-breaking energy Tarot, spoke. "You could say it got a little... electrifying around here," he quipped, tossing a glance at the storm still swirling behind them.
Kyora's eyes narrowed disappointed, but her grin soon softened. "Easy game, he says. I don't think I've ever seen anyone make fighting Celosia look like a day at the carnival," she muttered, slapping her forehead in unamusement.
Tarot snorted and rubbed his arm with mock indignation, but his eyes found Elliott, who sat with a weary, triumphant look. "Well, the real hero here is Mr. Lightning himself," Tarot said, pointing at Elliott. "You did it, man. Didn't think that tough guy act was just for show."
Elliott's smile grew, weak but genuine. "We all did. Thanks for coming back, Tarot."
Yipsiv's fingers drummed the armrest of the chair as he stared at the flickering light from the control panels. The screens in front of him displayed data—cold, unfeeling numbers and images of the sisters' failures. His lips were pressed into a thin line, and the sharp crease between his brows spoke of the storm brewing inside him.
"Damn it all," he muttered, his voice low and gravelly, thick with the drawl of a seasoned cowboy. "All this time, all that effort, and three of 'em go down in a day? Not even a whisper of hope left in 'em." He pushed the brim of his hat up with a flick of his wrist, eyes blazing as he looked at the monitors. "The mist ain't even holdin' strong no more. Ain't no way folks should be gettin' knocked out by a little touch of it. Not when that ol' Blooming Tree's still gotta grow. And now, here I sit with nothin' but wastin' roots and a pile of trouble."
The hum of the laboratory echoed around him, a mechanical chorus that seemed to mock his frustration. The connection to the Blooming Tree, that ancient source of power he'd been counting on, was slipping like sand through his fingers. He needed those sisters—needed their strength to feed the Tree's life, to fuel the power he craved, and to fulfill the contracts binding him.
He stood up abruptly, the old chair creaking in protest. His boots hit the polished floor with a defiant clop. "Well, ain't no sense in sittin' here lookin' like a damn fool, waitin' for miracles that ain't comin'. If they failed, then I reckon I'll have to find me another way." The muscles in his jaw clenched tight as he felt the heat of fury rise up his neck. "Ain't nobody gonna put my plans on hold, not while I'm still breathin'. So I'll set this ranch back on course, come hell or high water."
Yipsiv's hand slipped into the holster at his side, fingers curling around the grip of his revolver, and a wry smile stretched across his lips. "Looks like I'm gonna have to ride out and take matters into my own hands. Let the storm come; I'll be ready to make it dance to my tune."
Yipsiv pushed himself off the wall, the creak of the old wood echoing as he straightened up and smoothed his worn-out cowboy hat. The fire in his eyes was a stark contrast to the cold, metallic glint of the laboratory's lights. He looked at Nathaniel, who stood with an unyielding calm, the violin case clutched like a weapon and a statement all on its own. Yumiko sat on the edge of a chair, her sharp gaze flickering between the two men, waiting for the words that would unravel this mystery.
"Did ya forget?" Yipsiv drawled, the words slow and heavy as if each one carried the weight of a secret. He stepped forward, boots creaking against the cold floor, eyes locked on Nathaniel's like he was sizing up an old adversary. "SFA—Spirit Flower Agency. The only damn outfit that ever mattered in this rotten world. They were more than just a team, son. They were a family. A brotherhood forged in fire, loyalty, and blood. When they fell, it wasn't just their bodies that crumbled; the world's balance went to hell faster than a tumbleweed in a hurricane. And I'll be damned if I'm gonna sit here and watch it all fall apart again."
Nathaniel's jaw tightened, his fingers tightening around the violin case, the wood creaking in protest. Yumiko shifted in her seat, her sharp eyes glinting as she weighed the words, sensing that this revelation was bigger than any battle they had faced.
Yipsiv's grin was thin, shadowed, the kind that suggested he'd seen too many suns rise and set to be swayed by doubts. "That Blooming Tree's power ain't just about growth, ya hear? It's about life, rebirth, and the kind of ties that bind past and future alike. That tree could do what no alchemy, no science, no damn magic ever could—it could bring the dead back. And if I can harness it, if I can feed it just enough strength, that tree will bring back the SFA, piece by piece, agent by agent. They'll return, stronger than before, and we'll set the world to rights. This ain't just some play for power; it's the chance to fix what was broken."
Nathaniel's eyes narrowed, a storm brewing in their depths. "And you think you can just reach out and grab that power, put it in your hands, and make it right?" His voice was low, but it carried a sharpness that cut through the room. "This isn't just obsession, Yipsiv. You're tampering with forces you don't understand. And you're definitely not thinking about the consequences."
Yipsiv's chuckle was low, raw, with an edge like rusted spurs scraping against the floor. "Obsession? Maybe so. But reckon it's more than that. It's about givin' back to the folks who once stood for somethin' greater than themselves. SFA wasn't just a team; it was hope, the kind of hope that'll keep a man from bein' buried under his own damn shadow. And that's the hope the world needs now more than ever. You're right—I'm playin' with fire. But I'll be damned if I let that flame go out without leavin' a mark."
Yumiko's eyes darted between Yipsiv and Nathaniel, her heart thudding in her chest. The room seemed to hum, charged with the weight of old ghosts and decisions yet to come.
Yumiko stepped forward, determination in her eyes as she spoke, trying to understand the depths of Yipsiv's conviction. "But how can you be sure that the tree can do all that? A tree that poisons people with its thick mist—do you really think it can bring life back to those who've already died? You can't just base this on hope and belief. It's too dangerous, too insane."
Yipsiv's response was a cold, mocking laugh. "You, of all people, who've felt the poison's burn on your own skin, doubt that it could wield revival magic? The tree ain't just some plant—it's a god, a divine being that once ruled in its godhood. You, a simple mortal, wouldn't begin to comprehend the true extent of its power."
He leaned forward, his eyes glittering with intensity as he continued, driven by an unwavering belief. "The tree's potential is beyond what you or anyone else can fathom."
Yipsiv's laugh rumbled through the lab, rough and deep, like gravel scraping against an old iron rail. He tilted his hat up just enough to let his eyes catch the dim glow of the lights, a glint of something wild and untamed in them. He looked at Yumiko, his expression shifting from mockery to something sharper, something that cut deeper than any blade.
"You think I don't know the danger, missy?" He spat the words out like they were a bad taste in his mouth. "I know that tree's mist don't play nice. Hell, I know it'll rot a man from the inside out faster than a rattlesnake's bite if you ain't careful. But that's the thing, ain't it? You gotta be smarter than the devil to make use of somethin' like that. The tree, that divine beast, it's got a hunger, a will that don't bend to just anyone. But it's there, deep in the roots and the branches, in the pulse of its life—it can be tamed."
Yipsiv took a step forward, his shadow dancing across the floor like it had a life of its own. "The world's seen what happens when the mighty fall and the light goes out. SFA's sacrifice, that was a blaze that lit up the dark, but that fire's been snuffed out long enough. You say it's risky, sure as rain. But what ain't risky? I've walked that tightrope, seen the edge of the abyss, and I've still got my spurs on. So you ask me how I know the tree can bring folks back, you wanna know why I'm so sure? 'Cause I've got the fire that won't quit, and I know deep in my bones that if that tree's got a sliver of divine life left, I'll make sure it breathes life back into this broken world."
His eyes narrowed, and a grim smile crept up his weathered face. "Ain't no belief, ain't no wild gamble, missy. It's just the kind of risk a man like me takes when there's somethin' worth fightin' for. And believe me, that tree? It ain't just a root in the dirt. It's the last hope for the living, the dead, and all those who dare to dream of a future worth makin'."
He let the silence settle for a moment, letting his words sink into the room like a stone into a pond. The flicker of the lab lights cast long shadows, and Yipsiv's gaze hardened as he lifted his chin. "You'll see, girl. You'll see just what a man with a broken past and an unyieldin' dream can do when the world's got him backed into a corner."
Yumiko's frustration with Yipsiv's mindset deepened, even as she struggled to find any glimmer of goodness in his relentless pursuit. It was hard to accept that someone she once believed might have had noble intentions could be so consumed by obsession.
With a heavy breath, she pressed her hand to her chest and spoke with the fierce resolve of a true heroine. "That shouldn't be your focus...bringing people back to life? Placing that kind of hope in a tree that was once a god? There are still SFA survivors out there, and one of them is on our ship."
To be continued...