The cold wind whipped at my bark and whistled empty. I shuddered. My limbs have long forgotten the warmth of summer.

The trees that stood around me were shattered and collapsed in the wind. The lives inside are long gone, and now they are my silent companions. Their fragile trunks are empty shells, and the once dense jungle here is only a rough gray afterimage.

There was an evil spirit hovering among the trees in front of me, pale and dark in the night. There was a slump in my bark. Normally I would pierce its heart with its tendrils, but today I didn't move, not wanting to disturb the wraith. I was too tired to resist. My existence is a blatant defense of this curse.

Its hollow eyes gleamed with moonlight. On the island of the dead, its cold viciousness could not find any life or anything that could be harmed, and it had no prey or food. Evil spirits roamed through the woods, leaving me alone in peace.

I looked around in the forest in the shadows, the branches swaying. My eyes noticed something—a small cluster of red flames growing in the endless gray. It is rooted in a pile of black soil, and its tiny buds are struggling to break free from the ground, and its bright petals are bright and eye-catching.

It's a flower of the night. Once upon a time, the mountains of Fukuko Island were covered with this flower, which bloomed at the same time every year on the night of the summer solstice. By dawn, the flowers wither, leaving only gray-black petals, and they will not be seen again until the same night next year. But on this night, they lit up the deep forest with a bright fiery red, as if the whole land was set on fire.

I looked around, and for a moment, I thought that the presence of this flower might mean that it had other kinds. But the island of death is filled with nothing but melancholy gloom.

I staggered forward, the trunk creaking. I approached the flower, fascinated by the pale leaves that had been trampled to powder under my feet. My massive body was draped over its petite body. I bent over and hung my head, my face just inches away from the sweet scent of the petals. The powerful underground holy water in my core began to surge, and it was awakened by the long-lost cognitive resonance. Life.

The flower tilted its neck and probed upward, as if curious. Vermilion veins covered each petal, and the pale green stems were surrounded by hundreds of silvery-white hairs. I could spend eternity observing every bit of it.

It grows all the time, changing its posture in the most subtle ways; Its stems stretch higher and higher, and the petals gradually stretch out. I was fascinated by every move it made. The flower shyly spat out its stamens under my gaze, and the enchanting fragrance burst into vivid colors in my mind. For a moment, I forgot the cold, the wind, and my pain.

A white light flashed, and I shrank back in shock. A glowing figure approached. My bark is numb. In this lifeless wood, those who come are not good, and those who are good do not come.

The evil spirit had returned, attracted by the rhythm. Life cannot be as static as death.

I tightened my limbs angrily, no longer shying away from violence, and stayed with me to the end.

For at least this night, life will exist on this desolate and barren island, uninvaded by the forces of decay.

The evil spirit glides quietly towards us. She used to be human, but now she's translucent and white. Her originally indifferent expression began to show greed and longing after seeing the blood-red flowers.

The ghost began to run fast towards the flower, trying to suck its weak life into its body. I didn't want to see the little flower wither and become an immortal remnant, and I threw my arms forward and swept them towards the evil spirit's legs. She screamed and retreated as if she had been burned, and I yelled at her. The holy water in my body hates this unnatural product.

She twisted and broke free of my grip. I curled up my tendrils and smashed them to the ground. The blow cracked the earth's dirt, and the shock wave spread along the ground. The shock was so great that the evil spirits wailed in pain. I sneered. Before she could recover her senses, I pierced her body with my limbs and reduced her to nothing.

A dim mist rose from the ground, followed by a foul-smelling evil aura. The wind was still groaning, and dozens of evil spirits were figurative in front of me, their ghostly faces stunned at the sight. Nightflower grows with me stubbornly in front of the Shadow Barricade. I will not let them destroy the only pure creature in this darkness.

I poured out my fury into the onslaught of the onslaught, and drove them back with ferocious force. I can't wipe out all the evil spirits on the island, but I can fend off them for the time being. A wraith wants to get past me. I lifted up the roots with a roar and pierced his heart, and he melted into the mist.

My strength is being drained by so many evil spirits, but I will not surrender.

The floret shimmered brightly in the moonlight, and the battle for its presence made it seem insignificant. A blood-red petal slowly fell from the perfect flower, poignant as if it were dripping blood. The cycle of life of this flower is nearing its end, and death is coming as scheduled, and with it there is rest. But I don't crave rest. I feel like my anger can cleanse the entire island of woe.

The fog of the curse had risen past the treetops, forming dark clouds. Endless evil spirits poured out of the fog, their mouths wide open to reveal the hunger of the ghouls. I straightened up and slammed my limbs at the mad hordes of evil spirits, one after the other turning to dust, but new ones kept emerging from the mist.

I roared and stirred the air into a whirlwind, nourishing the storm with rage and turning it into a raging tornado. I laughed maniacally and let the chaotic spiral of revenge sweep around me and Flora. It violently pushes the evil spirit out of the woods. In the midst of this nightmare, I dug a shelter for life to grow.

I turned to face the flower. We live together quietly in the eye of the storm, seeking peace in the midst of madness. A second fiery petal fell from the Flower of the Night, followed by another. My energy was drained by the vortex of revenge, but I didn't flinch, and the wind continued to howl. Every moment, the flowers are falling, and finally they hang their heads to face the earth. It is flawless in a slow, natural withering. I couldn't help but watch intently as it faded away from its fiery red corolla and finally withered completely.

It's dead.

I lowered my branches, and the vortex of vengeance subsided. Above me, the sky was gray—no more than the brightest day in this miserable place. The fog reigns again, and the evil spirits return. Their faces turned cold, and they no longer felt the abrupt life of the Night Flower, nor did they desire the thrill of killing the living life.

They retreated into the hollow woods, and I tore apart one of the evil spirits that passed by me with a whisker of roots, scattering its spirit into a shallow mist. The other spirits hid in the distance, back into the shadows.

Although the land seems to be unchanged, the archipelago is no longer the wasteland of yesterday. The water of life stirred within me, and the soil beneath my roots was ready to give birth to life again.

Although the petals of the Night Flower have withered in the dust, its light still burns in my mind, igniting my anger. This island was born of hot lava in the first place, and I will use the same flame to purify its stubborn disease.

I followed the retreating spirits and watched them wander among the hollow tree trunks.

They will pay for their evil thoughts.