The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 51: Are You Ready To Slay?

Isabella dusted her hands off and turned to Ophelia and Shelia, eyes sharp with purpose.

"Alright," she said, stretching her fingers. "I need two really large stone slabs. Where can I get them?"

Ophelia’s ears perked up. "I know a place!" she said, practically bouncing on her feet.

Isabella’s eyes lit up. "Perfect. You and Shelia, go get them. And make it quick!"

Ophelia and Shelia nodded with determination before sprinting off.

Isabella sighed, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. This whole process was taking longer than she expected, but—oh well.

Minutes passed.

Then, in the distance—heavy footsteps.

Isabella looked up just in time to see Ophelia and Shelia marching back, each carrying a massive stone slab between them.

She gawked.

"...You two are monsters." At this point she realized even females in this world, were hundred time stronger than her.

Ophelia grinned, completely unbothered. "Where do you want them?"

Isabella pointed to a shady spot outside her hut. "There. Gently, please. If you break my work station before I even use it, I might actually cry."

The girls set the slabs down with a dull thud.

Perfect.

Isabella exhaled quietly and took her carefully designed bowl, placing it gently on the slab. As she did, a sudden realization hit her.

Why had she struggled so much at first?

Her first instinct had been to act like some professional potter, trying to mold everything the ’right’ way.

But that wasn’t her.

She wasn’t some serious, textbook craftsman.

She was Isabella.

A girl who was obsessed about everything that concerned fashion and beauty to the extent she even had her own line of small brands.

A girl who made things look good.

A slow smirk spread across her lips.

She had been locking her real self away to focus on survival—and failing miserably.

Never again.

She dusted her hands off, turning toward Ophelia and Shelia.

"Alright, ladies," she said, grinning mischievously. "Are you ready to slay?"

The girls stiffened immediately.

Shelia squinted. "...Slay?"

Ophelia frowned. "You mean... kill something?"

Isabella paused.

Then, very slowly, she brought a hand to her forehead and rubbed her temple—forgetting her hands were still covered in clay.

A smudge of grayish-brown streaked across her skin.

Sheila and Ophelia watched in silence.

Isabella exhaled sharply. "No. Not kill." She lifted her hands dramatically. "Slay. As in... absolutely destroy. Dominate. Be iconic."

The girls blinked.

"To slay," Isabella continued, fully committed to this lesson now, "is to do something so well that people stare at you in awe. It’s when you walk into a place, and everyone knows—damn, she’s THAT girl."

Shelia nodded slowly, trying to process it. "So... not actual killing?"

"No! It’s a mindset. A way of life," Isabella explained, placing a hand on her chest. "When you slay, you don’t just do something—you own it."

Ophelia still looked confused, but Shelia suddenly nodded in understanding.

"So if I make a really good pot, I’m... slaying?"

"EXACTLY!" Isabella snapped her fingers. "See? Shelia gets it."

Ophelia still looked skeptical. "So... are you slaying right now?"

"Obviously," Isabella said, tossing her hair back, completely smearing more clay across her cheek in the process.

Ophelia bit her lip, trying not to laugh.

Shelia nodded approvingly. "Understood. I will slay."

"Good. But before you two try," Isabella said, rolling up her sleeves, "let me show you how it’s done one more time."

With renewed confidence, she grabbed another lump of clay, kneading it expertly.

She used the coiling method, layering the clay in a smooth spiral, then pinched and molded it into the perfect shape.

The girls watched, completely absorbed.

Within minutes, Isabella had created another beautiful, symmetrical bowl.

She set it down with a satisfied smirk and turned to the girls. fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm

"Alright," she said, clapping her hands. "Your turn. Slay."

The moment Isabella gave the signal, Ophelia and Shelia sprang into action, snatching up chunks of clay like warriors grabbing weapons before battle.

Isabella watched with pride. This was it. Her students were ready to slay.

Then, something terrifying happened.

The girls were good.

Too good.

They pinched, coiled, and smoothed their clay with unnatural ease, their hands moving with instinctive precision. The focus in their eyes was deadly.

Isabella’s confident smirk began to twitch.

"...Wait."

She narrowed her eyes. Ophelia’s bowl was already taking shape—a near-perfect circle with an even rim. Meanwhile, Shelia, who had chosen the coil method, was smoothing the edges so flawlessly that the seams vanished.

Isabella’s stomach dropped.

They had never done this before.

And yet.

They were already better than her.

She inhaled sharply. Okay. Deep breaths. Maybe it was just luck—maybe they’d mess up any second now.

They did not.

Instead, Ophelia finished her first bowl.

And it looked... perfect.

Shelia placed hers beside it, and it was just as flawless.

Isabella stared at their work.

Then she stared at her own.

She looked back at theirs.

Then at hers again.

A sharp, cold pain stabbed at her pride.

This isn’t fair. Not fair at all.

She had struggled, sweated, failed miserably, and wasted so much clay before she made anything decent!

But these two?

Fast learners. Unfairly fast learners.

They had watched her once—just once!—and now they were making art.

Ophelia, sensing Isabella’s silence, turned to her with innocent, shining eyes.

"How did we do?" she asked eagerly.

Isabella’s jaw tightened.

She wanted to lie. She wanted to say, "Hmm... not bad, but I see some flaws," just to preserve her dignity.

But she couldn’t.

Because there were no flaws.

The little traitors had actually slayed.

She swallowed her pride.

"...You did amazing," she admitted, voice tight.

The girls beamed.

"Really?!" Shelia clapped her hands, tail swishing. "That means we’re slaying!"

Isabella forced a smile. "Yeah. You’re slaying."

She internally sobbed.

The girls cheered.

"We should make more!" Ophelia declared.

Shelia nodded. "Yes! A lot more!"

Isabella rubbed her temple again—now smearing even more clay on her forehead.

Maybe she had created monsters.

But at least they were talented monsters.

But then maybe it was a good thing, if they could learn really fast then that’d mean that she might not have too much problem with them.