CHAPTER 481: CHAPTER 481: OH DAMN, SHE’S SERIOUS TODAY

The forest exploded into motion the moment Isabella screamed.

Birds—yellow-bellied dartwings, mist thrushes, even those weird featherless puff-chickens that only lived on the Lunareen mountain—shot into the air like she had personally announced the end of the world. Wings flapped in a frenzy, leaves drifted down in a confused spiral, and a small squirrel-thing dropped the fruit it was munching on and sprinted away on two legs.

Even the trees seemed to go, "oh damn, she’s serious today."

Osiris, who still stubbornly followed behind her like some lost prince trying not to admit he was lost, froze mid-step. His long lashes flicked once. His brows drew slowly downward. He looked genuinely... worried? Concerned? Uncertain?

He stared at Isabella like a man who had just watched a rabbit learn how to roar.

Meanwhile, Glimora—precious little white furball, the only creature on the entire mountain who acted like it had a functioning brain cell—barely blinked. She simply looked at Osiris with that flat, judgmental baby-beast expression that clearly said:

Relax. This is just her default setting.

If Glimora could shrug, she would’ve.

Isabella, however, was in her own world.

Her eyes were sparkling—literally sparkling—with the kind of excitement that only came when she smelled something promising, life-changing, or edible. Her entire life had been meat, meat, meat, meat, and occasional water. She wasn’t built to handle the sudden discovery of civilization-level ingredients.

It felt like she had just seen heaven open and say:

"My child... have rice."

She pressed her hands dramatically to her chest, inhaled deeply, and whispered, trembling with joy:

"Bubu... I could kiss you right now..."

Osiris blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Slowly.

He looked from Isabella...

...to the empty air where no one stood...

...then back to Isabella.

And inside his mind, he was going through at least seven stages of confusion:

—Why is she offering kisses to the wind?

—Who is Bubu?

—Is Bubu invisible?

—Is she possessed?

—Why is she kissing the air but threw a sandal at him when he tried to kiss her?

—What kind of injustice is this?

—Is this what insanity looks like?

His lips tightened. His jaw clenched. His expression screamed:

I am offended. Deeply. Spiritually. Emotionally.

Even Glimora glanced up at him again like:

Oh wow, now he’s sulking. Cute.

But Isabella didn’t notice. She was too busy panicking from happiness.

She had found rice.

Actual rice.

Grains clustered on drooping stalks, glowing faintly with the soft shimmer of Lunareen dew—the kind only the mountain produced. She reached out but didn’t touch, trembling with restraint. Beside the rice clusters, she noticed dark-green sprouts shaped like baby onions, ground yams popping from the soil in odd clusters, dwarf tomatoes as red as rubies, and a patch of tiny leaf vegetables that smelled like spinach married mint and had magical children.

And then—oh sweet heavens—the seeds.

Seeds scattered openly on the ground like they had been waiting for her. Sun-dried naturally by the glowing spores floating through the air. Perfectly preserved.

Her breath stuttered.

In her mind, she screamed:

"MY VILLAGE WILL NEVER EAT GRASS AGAIN!"

But she remembered—she couldn’t just touch plants on this mountain. This wasn’t a roadside market. This was the early Stone Age version of a magical death trap. Touch the wrong thing? You die. Touch the right thing the wrong way? You also die. Touch the right thing on the right day with the wrong breath? Guess what—still die.

So she inhaled slowly, dropped her shoulders, and mentally called:

Bubu.

Scan. NOW.

The system appeared in her mind with its smug little glowing circle eyes and pixel mouth already preparing to say something sarcastic—

But Isabella stopped it with one, single, soul-crushing side-eye.

Bubu flinched like a bullied cube.

"Yes, host," it said immediately. "Scanning."

A humming sensation filled Isabella’s mind—soft pulses passing through each plant.

Rice. Safe.

Ground yam. Safe.

Lunareen spinach-mint thing. Safe but wash thoroughly.

Dwarf tomatoes. Very safe.

Wild pea pods. Safe if boiled.

Herbs. Mostly safe.

Seeds. All safe.

Except one suspicious brown bean that looked like death holding hands with diarrhea.

She stepped over that one.

When the scan finished, Isabella’s throat grew tight. Tears stung behind her eyes. Actual tears.

Food.

Real food.

Food she could plant.

Food she could take home.

Food that would feed her people.

After months of survival horror and meat-only diet, this was like witnessing the birth of civilization with her own eyes.

Her knees weakened. She placed both hands on her knees and let out the kind of emotional gasp that only aunties at weddings usually made.

"Thank—thank you, Bubu..."

And Bubu, smug returning like a tide, whispered:

"You may shower me with gratitude—"

She cut it off with an internal glare so vicious the system physically dimmed.

Osiris, meanwhile, stood a few feet away, just watching her.

He could not see the system.

All he saw was a girl staring lovingly at a bunch of crops like they had complimented her hair... then whispering to the air... then glaring at nothing... then almost sobbing.

He rubbed his forehead.

She is insane, he thought.

Utterly and beautifully insane.

But inside him, a small traitorous part added:

...And weirdly adorable.

Before he could dwell on that betrayal of his dignity, something else happened.

Ten baskets—sturdy, woven, large—appeared out of thin air.

POOF.

POOF.

POOF.

POOF.

One after another, surrounding Isabella in a semi-circle like she was a deity and these were her worship offerings.

Osiris stumbled back a step, eyes widening as he stared at the floating baskets.

He wasn’t sure if he should prepare for battle...

...or start praying.

Witchcraft, he thought in panic.

Definitely witchcraft.

Glimora didn’t even blink. She crawled into one of the baskets like:

Finally. My carriage has arrived.

Isabella clapped her hands once.

"Perfect!" she squealed.

Then she rushed forward, kneeling in the dirt, and began scooping rice into the first two baskets like a woman possessed. Her long hair swayed, her smile stretched to her ears, and her fingers trembled from pure adrenaline.

She grabbed handfuls of seeds, placing each one carefully—like handling gold.

She collected wild yam sprouts.

She took the herbs Bubu marked safe.

She plucked leaf vegetables with gentle fingers.

She even grabbed the tiny tomatoes with a gasp of delight.

Osiris watched the entire scene, utterly lost.

What was this woman doing?

Why did she need ten baskets?

Why was she so emotional over grass?

And why—WHY—

did he feel strangely proud watching her?

Something warm tugged in his chest. Something like admiration. Something like curiosity. Something like—

No.

Absolutely not.

He straightened his back and told his heart to shut up.

Isabella shoved another handful of rice into a basket, then stood abruptly, pointing at Osiris without warning.

"YOU."

He jolted.

Her eyes narrowed, fierce, commanding.

"Hurry up," she barked, breathless with excitement.

"Join me."