CHAPTER 450: CHAPTER 450: MULTIPLE LIFE SIGNATURES AHEAD

Isabella moved carefully, bow in hand, Glimora perched on her shoulder like a tiny guard dog with fur.

"Alright," she muttered, scanning the darkness, "so where exactly are these ’small mountain beasts’ you want me to slaughter, huh?"

Bubu’s screen flickered softly beside her. "Activating sensory scan."

There was a faint hum, followed by glowing dots appearing in her vision—tiny outlines of creatures moving between the trees.

"There," Bubu said. "Multiple life signatures ahead. Identify carefully before you shoot. Some may be harmless."

"Harmless?" Isabella whispered, squinting. "You mean adorable and innocent?"

"I mean capable of retaliation."

Her stomach twisted. "Oh, great. So they’re all dangerous. Fantastic."

She crouched low, creeping forward as quietly as she could. Her boots pressed against soft moss, muffling her steps. The mist curled around her ankles, glowing faintly from the bioluminescent fungi that dotted the rocks. The forest had no moon, but it didn’t need one — it pulsed with its own strange light, eerie yet beautiful.

In the distance, she caught a flicker of movement — four-legged, sleek, and covered in fur that shimmered faintly with gold. The creature’s eyes glowed faintly, and it lowered its head to graze on some glowing moss.

Isabella inhaled sharply. "Oh my gods... it’s cute."

Glimora squeaked in agreement, tail twitching.

Bubu’s calm voice cut through her hesitation. "That is a goldmane cervine. Classified as a small mountain beast. Target approved."

"Target approved," she repeated, her voice trembling. "You make it sound like an execution."

"Technically, it is."

She glared at the cube. "You’re heartless."

"You are emotional."

"Yeah, and you’re a glowing block of stress."

Glimora let out a little trill that sounded like laughter. Isabella sighed and adjusted her grip on the bow. Her fingers fumbled slightly — it had been a long time since she held a weapon like this.

She pulled the string back, feeling it stretch tight against her fingers. The tension buzzed in her arm. Her breath came out shaky.

"Alright... here goes nothing," she whispered.

The arrow flew — and missed completely.

It hit a tree with a hollow thunk, startling every creature in a five-mile radius. The golden deer bolted instantly, disappearing into the mist.

"Oh, come on!" Isabella groaned, throwing her head back. "I literally blinked for half a second!"

"Host," Bubu said flatly, "perhaps you should observe the target’s behavior before firing."

"I did observe it!" Isabella hissed. "It was grazing! What more behavior do you want?"

"Breathing patterns, muscle tension, line of movement—"

"Stop making it sound like science class!"

Bubu ignored her, as usual. "Approach more quietly. Step lightly. Your current gait resembles stomping."

"I do not stomp!" she snapped, taking another exaggeratedly delicate step forward.

The moss squished loudly beneath her boot.

Bubu’s screen flickered. "You stomp."

She sighed dramatically. "You know what, fine. Teach me, oh wise and annoying system. Show me how to be a stealthy mountain goddess."

"Your sarcasm is noted," Bubu replied. "Move with your weight balanced. Avoid snapping twigs. Focus your breathing. And—"

"I swear if you say ’relax,’ I’ll shoot you instead."

"—do not relax," Bubu finished smoothly.

She glared. "You’re mocking me."

"I am incapable of mockery."

"Then why do you sound like you’re smirking?"

"I do not possess a mouth."

"Exactly. That’s what makes it worse."

Glimora chirped and pointed one hand toward the trees. Isabella followed her gaze. Another beast — smaller this time, gray fur mottled with streaks of silver — emerged from the shadows. It was nibbling on a glowing vine, oblivious to her presence.

"Okay," Isabella whispered. "Let’s try this again."

She crouched lower, taking a slow, deep breath. Her fingers found the next arrow. She pulled the string back carefully, steady this time, her breathing even. The world around her went still — no sound, no movement, just the faint heartbeat in her ears.

The beast twitched its tail. Isabella froze.

"Wait," Bubu whispered in her head. "Do not shoot yet. The wind direction—"

"What about the wind direction?!" she hissed back.

"It is shifting. Your scent will alert it."

"Oh my god, now I have to worry about my scent?"

"Predators always do."

"I am not a predator!"

"You are a hunter," Bubu corrected.

Isabella groaned, resting her forehead on the bow. "I hate my life."

"Focus," Bubu urged.

She lifted her head, muttering under her breath. "Focus, yeah, sure, focus, easy for you to say, you don’t have a baby tap dancing inside your stomach."

"Would you like me to activate steady-hand assistance?"

"You can do that?"

"No."

"Bubu!"

"I was joking."

She gasped. "You do have humor!"

"No," the system said flatly.

"Liar."

Even Glimora squeaked at that one.

She repositioned herself, remembering what Bubu said about muscle tension and timing. She watched the creature this time—how it twitched its ears before lifting its head, how it sniffed the air before taking another bite. She realized there was rhythm in its movement, like a dance with the environment.

And then it hit her. She had been rushing it.

She took another slow breath, syncing her movements with the creature’s rhythm. Her heartbeat steadied, her breathing quieted.

Bubu’s voice was soft now. "Good. Observe. Wait. Predict."

She nodded slowly. "Yeah... yeah, I think I get it."

Her fingers flexed. The bow creaked quietly under tension.

The creature shifted, lowering its head again.

Now.

She released.

The arrow sliced through the air, silent and sharp.

A faint whistle, then a clean, solid thud.

The beast jerked once—then fell still.

The forest went quiet again. Even the mist seemed to pause.

For a moment, Isabella didn’t move. She just stared at the still figure in the grass, the arrow buried cleanly in its side.

"I hit it," she whispered, disbelief in her voice. "I actually hit it."

Bubu’s screen glowed faintly beside her. "Confirmed. Target down."

Her grip on the bow trembled. The rush of adrenaline made her breath shaky.

"I did it," she said again, softer this time.

"Yes," Bubu said. "Precision: eighty-nine percent. Efficiency: acceptable."

"Acceptable?" Isabella scoffed, wiping sweat from her forehead. "I deserve a medal."

"You deserve hydration," Bubu replied.

"I deserve an apology," she muttered, standing and brushing moss from her knees.

But despite her grumbling, a small smile tugged at her lips. It wasn’t joy—not really—but something close. A flicker of pride. Of survival.

She looked down at Glimora, who was watching her with wide, adoring eyes. Isabella smiled faintly. "Yeah, baby. Mommy’s scary now."

Glimora squeaked, puffing her little chest like a proud sidekick.

And for a brief, fragile moment, Isabella felt like maybe—just maybe—she could handle this mountain after all.