The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 585: Your face is ugly too but you are gentle sometimes
The growl behind Isabella deepened, rattling the leaves above her head like thunder crawling across the canopy. The men around her all tensed at once, their bodies dropping into instinctive battle stances, claws half-formed, muscles pulled tight like taut bowstrings.
But Isabella did not flinch.
She did not even blink.
Instead, a faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
The wind shifted. Her hair lifted. And with a soft flick of her fingers, a delicate pink and white fan materialized in her palm, shimmering faintly as if moonlight were trapped inside its folds.
The men inhaled sharply.
This fan... had not been there a second ago.
Zyran’s mouth dropped open. "W-wait... where did—"
Osiris slapped a hand over his mouth. "Shhh! She is transforming! This is when she goes crazy! I told you all! I told you—"
Nobody listened to him.
Because at that very moment, Isabella turned.
Slowly. Calmly. As if greeting an old friend instead of confronting a creature the size of a small house.
The beast towered over her, its fur black and coarse, its eyes glowing with a faint red haze. Its jaws were wide, long fangs dripping with something viscous. Steam curled around its nostrils, and each breath sounded like a forest collapsing.
A normal pregnant woman would run.
A normal pregnant woman would scream.
But Isabella merely raised her fan and murmured, "Hmph. You scared my rabbit away."
The beast lunged.
The men shouted.
Isabella moved first.
Her fan sliced through the air, releasing a sharp crack of wind. A crescent-shaped gust slashed across the beast’s chest, splitting fur and skin in one swift motion.
The beast roared, stumbling back, but Isabella did not stop. She stepped forward and delivered a second strike. Then a third. Then five more in rapid succession, her movements quick and elegant, as if she were dancing instead of fighting.
The surrounding men who were from the village could only gape.
Wind spiraled around her feet, lifting dust and fallen leaves into a swirling halo. Her fan gleamed with every slash, rippling the air with shimmering force.
Even when the beast charged again, Isabella simply slid back lightly, as graceful as a drifting feather, and struck once more with the precision of a seasoned warrior.
Slash. Slash. Slash.
By the ninth strike, Zyran whispered, horrified, "She is not human."
Osiris nodded calmly. "Yes. She is not. I have known this for a long time."
The village hunters beside them exchanged terrified looks.
Cyrus, however, stared at Isabella with pure admiration, his heart practically bursting out of his chest.
Kian watched in silence, his eyes dark and unreadable.
Finally, after nearly twenty slashes, the beast faltered. It staggered, lowered itself, then collapsed with a heavy thud that shook the trees.
Dust billowed.
Silence fell over the forest.
The men stared.
Then Osiris lifted a finger proudly. "See? I am the only one who has truly experienced her mountain insanity. You are all children."
No one responded.
They were too stunned.
Cyrus ran forward first, nearly tripping over his own feet. "Isabella! Are you hurt anywhere? Did you twist your ankle? Did you breathe too much dust? Are you dizzy?"
Zyran shoved past him. "Move! Isabella, show me your hands. Your wrists. Your stomach. Everything."
Osiris moved next, checking her elbow as if that ever mattered. "Your aura feels uneven! Wait, no, that is just my fear."
Kian stepped closer quietly, his eyes scanning her like she was the most fragile thing in the world.
Isabella shoved all of them aside. "Enough! The beast is the one bleeding! What is wrong with all of you?"
They froze.
Then looked down at the fallen creature.
It lay in a heap, its chest rising and falling shallowly. Despite its size and terrifying appearance, its breathing sounded weak. Too weak. Isabella’s eyes narrowed.
She crouched down.
"...This is strange."
The fur was wrong. The energy was wrong. Even the scent was wrong.
This thing did not belong here.
She closed her eyes and called silently in her mind.
"Bubu."
A spark of bright light flickered inside her consciousness, followed by a dramatic sigh.
[Oh wow. My user finally remembers my existence. Should I clap? Should I cry?]
Isabella rolled her eyes mentally. "Scan the beast."
[Hmph. Bossy pregnant woman. Fine.]
A soft hum vibrated through her mind.
[Scanning... scanning... scanning... oh. Well. That is unexpected.]
"What?"
[This creature is a Mountain Ridge Beast. Absolutely not native to this region. It never descends to the lower forest unless forced.]
Isabella’s brows knitted.
Mountain Ridge Beasts... were rare.
Very rare.
And very gentle.
Unless provoked.
"Why is it here?" she murmured.
[How would I know? You think I run the world? However, based on its patterns of injury... someone chased it down the mountain.]
Her fingers stilled.
Chased it?
Like Glimora.
When Isabella had found Glimora, she had been chased by hunters who clearly knew her value.
Was this the same situation?
Bubu continued.
[Also, this beast has many benefits. Its fur repels cold, perfect for winter. Its bones are valuable for crafting spiritual tools. Its inner core—]
"Enough," Isabella muttered. "I am not harvesting it."
[Huh? Why not? Free treasure.]
"Because it is alive."
[...Oh. You are in your saintly period again. Pregnancy hormones.]
"Bubu."
[Shutting up.]
Isabella examined the beast carefully. Beneath her slashes, she noticed older wounds. Deep gashes. Bruises. Places where arrows or spears had grazed its hide.
Someone had definitely attacked it before she arrived.
She felt a twinge of guilt.
"I made it worse," she said softly.
Cyrus kneeled beside her. "Beloved, it attacked you. You did what you needed to do."
"It attacked because it was cornered," she replied sharply.
Zyran scratched his head. "How can something so ugly be gentle?"
Osiris elbowed him. "Your face is ugly too but you are gentle sometimes."
Zyran punched him.
Osiris punched him back.
They rolled away again like idiots.
Kian ignored them completely.
Isabella sighed, stood up, and took a step toward the beast...
Branches snapped.
Male voices shouted.
Before she could even turn fully, figures burst out of the trees.
Ragged. Wild-eyed. Covered in dirt and dried blood. Their clothes were torn, their hair messy, their bodies shaking as if they had run for days.
"There it is!" one shouted.
"That’s the beast— catch it before it escapes again!"
"They must not let it get away— it’s worth—"
Isabella’s eyes sharpened dangerously.
She did not like these men.
Not even a little.
Her fan flickered in her hand.
Osiris leaned toward Cyrus and whispered loudly, "She is going to kill someone today."
Cyrus whispered back, "Zyran and I must restrain her before she kills all of them."
Zyran whispered, "I vote we let her kill one. Just one... and i kill the rest"
Cyrus gave him a side eye.
The villagers who came along froze, their expressions turning wary as they gripped their weapons.
The wild-looking men rushed forward carelessly, not even noticing Isabella standing directly between them and the wounded beast.
Their eyes were crazed— filled not with fear, but greed.
Isabella stepped slightly to the side, blocking their path completely.
Her expression darkened.
The wind shifted.
The men finally noticed her.
And they froze.
Her fingers tightened around her fan.
Her gaze dropped to their hands.
Weapons.
Rope.
Hooks.
Hunters.
Her brows lowered.
Her voice dropped, soft and cold.
"...You chased it down the mountain."
The men flinched.
One pointed at the injured beast excitedly. "We finally found it! Move aside, woman. That beast belongs to us—"
Isabella’s eyes slowly lifted.
Sharp.
Bright.
Full of lethal calm.
The men stepped back instinctively.
Around her, Cyrus, Kian, Zyran, and Osiris moved into formation without a word, shoulders stiff, muscles coiled, expressions darkening.
Every villager behind them raised their weapons.
