CHAPTER 439: CHAPTER 439: I’LL THROW MYSELF OFF THIS MOUNTAIN

Isabella’s scream caught somewhere between her throat and lungs, trapped like a frightened bird. For a heartbeat, her mind went blank—her body refusing to believe what her eyes were seeing.

Then—something moved.

From behind a charred wing, a small blur darted forward.

"Glimora!"

The little creature leapt right into her arms, trembling like a leaf. Isabella almost burst into tears of relief as she clutched her close. "Oh my god, you scared the life out of me!" She pressed her forehead against Glimora’s soft head, breathing hard. "What did I say about running off? Do I look like one of those cool main characters who can fight off ten monsters at once? I am not!"

Glimora made a soft chirp, burying her face against Isabella’s chest in what felt like an apology—but Isabella wasn’t buying it. "No, no, don’t act cute now! You made me age ten years in two minutes!"

Bubu’s voice cut through the clearing, calm and clinical. "Area has been scanned successfully. No threats found."

Isabella sagged with relief, her knees wobbling. "Oh, thank God..." She glanced around again, taking a deep breath, though the air burned her nose with the thick smell of ash and blood. "You could’ve started with that instead of letting me nearly faint."

"I was calculating."

"Calculating my death probability?"

"Correct."

She glared at the floating screen. "You’re insufferable."

"You say that every day, Host."

"And I’ll keep saying it until you start developing manners."

Glimora squeaked softly, like she agreed. Isabella sighed and tucked the little creature under one arm while her other hand reached out for her fan. The elegant pink-and-white weapon shimmered faintly as she slid it back into her spatial ring. "No threats," she repeated to herself. "Right. Which means I can breathe again."

But the sight before her didn’t let her breathe easily.

She took a cautious step forward, her boots crunching on brittle grass slick with dried blood. The feathers glowed faintly, pulsing in soft golden light. Each one was beautiful—perfectly shaped, shimmering like liquid sunlight—yet the ground beneath them was littered with death.

"What... happened here?" she whispered.

The corpses of magnificent creatures surrounded her—majestic birds with bodies too large to be normal, their wings half-spread as if caught mid-flight. They were breathtaking, even in death, and terrifying in their stillness. The faint scent of smoke hung over them like a ghost of battle.

She crouched near one, staring at its long neck and shattered beak. "They look like something straight out of a storybook," she murmured. "But... why do I feel sad looking at them?"

Bubu appeared beside her, its screen faintly glowing blue in the mist. "They are called the Phoenix Clan," it said simply.

Isabella’s head snapped toward the system. "The Phoenix Clan? As in the actual immortal birds that burst into flames and come back all shiny and brand new?"

"Affirmative," Bubu replied. "But it seems their rebirth cycle was disrupted."

She frowned, brushing her fingers just above a bloodstained feather, not daring to touch it. "Disrupted how?"

Bubu paused, scanning the area. "Signs of forbidden energy. It appears they were recently assassinated."

The word assassinated hit her like a slap. Isabella’s throat went dry. She rose slowly to her feet, eyes scanning the endless stretch of golden carnage. "Assassinated?" she repeated. "Wait—you’re telling me someone wiped out an entire clan of firebirds? How do you even kill something that comes back to life?!"

Bubu didn’t answer immediately. The screen flickered, cycling through faint sigils. "Evidence suggests soul-severing magic was used. Once the soul flame is extinguished, there is no rebirth."

A chill swept over her, crawling down her spine like ice water. She wrapped her free arm around herself, holding Glimora tighter. "Soul-severing? That’s... that’s insane."

"Insane but effective," Bubu said. "Even the strongest immortals fall to it."

Isabella swallowed hard. Her gaze swept the clearing again. "Why would anyone do this?"

"Power. Territory. The Phoenix Clan guarded one of the main leyline veins of this mountain. Whoever did this now controls it."

"Leyline veins..." she echoed under her breath, staring down at the glowing soil that faintly shimmered with residual heat. She could almost feel it—the faint hum beneath her feet, like the earth’s heartbeat.

The thought made her uneasy.

She began walking again, careful not to step directly on any feathers or bodies. The further she went, the quieter everything became. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

Her steps echoed through the still air, crunching softly against stone and ash. The faint scent of scorched magic clung to everything—sharp and bitter, the way burnt incense lingered after a ritual.

Every few meters, another phoenix lay fallen—some with wings curled protectively over their nests, others with their claws buried in the earth as if they’d fought until their last breath.

"Bubu..." Isabella’s voice was quiet now, soft with something close to grief. "Do you think they felt it? When they died?"

"Pain?" the system asked.

"No. Losing their flame."

A long pause. Then: "Yes. They would have known the moment it was stolen."

Her throat ached. She didn’t know why she cared so much. These weren’t her people. They weren’t even human. But something about this place—the silence, the glow, the lingering warmth of what used to be life—hurt in a way she couldn’t explain.

She didn’t realize how far she’d walked until the bodies began thinning out. The golden feathers grew fewer, the scent of smoke weaker. Only a few scattered remains lay along the path now.

She exhaled shakily. "It’s almost over," she whispered to Glimora, who peered from her arms, eyes wide and shimmering.

But just as she was about to turn back, something caught her attention.

A body lay a few meters ahead, slightly apart from the rest. Male.

He was facedown, half-buried in the grass, his body still faintly glowing like dying embers. His wings—no, not wings, those were... tattoos?—flickered along his back like molten gold trying to escape his skin.

Isabella hesitated. "Another one," she murmured. "Poor thing..."

For a moment, she simply stared, not wanting to get close. She had seen enough corpses for one day. And besides, she wasn’t exactly trained for this kind of thing. What was she supposed to do—poke him with a stick?

She sighed, brushing her sweaty bangs back. "Alright, you rest in peace too, okay? Sorry I can’t light candles or anything." She turned to leave.

But Bubu’s voice stopped her mid-step.

"Host."

Her tone was different this time—steady, but not monotone. Something about it made Isabella freeze. "What?" she asked cautiously.

"He is alive."

Isabella blinked, turning slowly. "...What?"

"The male before you. He is still alive."

For a second, Isabella just stood there, blinking at the system like it had just told her the sky was made of pudding.

Then she let out a long, shaky exhale and turned her entire body toward Bubu, glaring daggers. "How the fuck does that concern me?"

Because she knew that tone.

That calm, deliberate tone Bubu only used right before throwing her into another death trap.

Her voice cracked slightly as she jabbed a finger at the glowing screen. "Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare even start suggesting I do something heroic right now! I’m traumatized, Bubu! I’ve seen enough corpses for a lifetime! I am tired, I am pregnant, and I have exactly zero patience left for you and your mysterious tasks!"

Glimora blinked up at her, clearly startled by her outburst.

Bubu, unfazed as always, blinked once. "Emotional stability level: decreasing rapidly."

"Oh, you think?!"

"Heart rate elevated. Host appears distressed."

"I wonder why, Bubu!"

"Would you like me to play calming background music?"

"I swear, if you do that, I’ll throw myself off this mountain."

"Not recommended. High probability of fatality."

"Exactly my point!" she snapped.

Her voice echoed across the quiet clearing, bouncing off the mist and stone. The only sound after that was her heavy breathing—and the faint, barely audible heartbeat coming from the still figure lying face-down in the grass.

She didn’t notice it yet.

But the mountain did.

The golden feathers near the body shimmered faintly, their glow pulsing in rhythm with that weak heartbeat—as if answering it.

And in the space between her fury and her fear, something ancient stirred in the air.