Bella had always been cautious, no matter how reckless she might appear at times. Those who only glanced at her actions thought she was prone to dangerous gambles, but in truth, she never acted without carefully calculating the risks. Her instincts for survival were razor sharp, and unless she had already prepared for every angle, she would never step into uncertain territory.
She wasn't foolish enough to take on impossible odds. Why would she charge headlong into the armies of Planned Parenthood's soldiers, or worse, provoke the terrifying beings known as the Level God Fathers? Bella valued her life too much for that.
The enormous Mossa beasts she had faced earlier were proof enough. Killing one was a legendary feat. Taking down a hundred had nearly shaken the galaxy with her reputation. But Bella knew better than anyone that these creatures couldn't be endlessly farmed for strength or reward. Once slain, they required years before their kind would rise again with new power. That was the natural law.
If it had been possible, Bella would have already hunted another divine creature, perhaps even tried to drain strength from someone like the God of Thunder. Thor himself would have been her target—the irony of using a promoted hero to further her own path would have been delicious. But the universe was never so generous.
The mysterious Golden Finger that had guided her since her transmigration didn't allow for cheap exploits. No loopholes, no shortcuts, no infinite wool to be plucked. It forced her to climb step by step, testing her patience as much as her strength.
At the moment, Bella sat at the top floor of a luxurious interstellar hotel, savoring a dish made from ingredients whose origins she could not identify. On the outside she looked relaxed, calmly eating as though she had all the time in the world. But behind that quiet smile, her mind worked furiously.
She would need to be patient. Her only option was to continue gathering information on other ancient, primal beings of the universe—solitary Sub-God Fathers, powerful creatures wandering without armies or empires. Those were her stepping stones.
Then, without warning, Bella's eyes narrowed. She didn't even glance behind her as her voice turned sharp, colder than a winter storm.
"One step forward, and you die."
The atmosphere shifted instantly. The hum of conversation around the dining tables froze, as if time itself had been interrupted. The elite guests sharing the floor with her—ambassadors, warlords, cosmic merchants—exchanged amused smirks. They weren't about to intervene. Instead, they leaned back, curious to watch the drama unfold.
Less than ten meters away, a tall figure had frozen mid-step. He was humanoid, over two meters tall, his skin darker than human bronze, his face marked with grotesque bony spikes. Dressed in elegant robes, he looked almost regal, but right now he was trembling.
He could feel death pressing against his chest. The moment he set his foot down, he knew it would be his last.
Cold sweat trickled down his forehead as he swallowed. "I… I am here to invite you on behalf of my master. There is no malice." His voice, calm but unnaturally smooth, carried a tone almost like a radio announcer from Earth.
Bella's lips curved into a thin smile. "No malice? You dare approach me and think I cannot sense your intent?" She finally turned her head slightly, her eyes glinting with frost. "Get out. I am not interested in your master's invitation."
Her words landed like the judgment of a queen. An invisible weight slammed into the spiked messenger. His body convulsed as though a mountain had dropped onto his shoulders. Unable to resist, he was hurled backward with explosive force.
He crashed into the wall beside the elevator with a deafening thud, spitting blood as he collapsed to his knees. Dazed and broken, he didn't wait for another strike. With the last of his strength, he staggered to his feet, forced the elevator open, and fled in terror.
A sharp hiss escaped from the other diners as they watched. Shock flickered in their eyes. They had already known Bella was dangerous, but this display of raw dominance unsettled them. Few beings in the cosmos carried such overwhelming presence.
To slay a hundred Mossas was impressive enough. But to project that power so effortlessly… it confirmed her as a galactic powerhouse.
Still, none of them dared interfere. They knew who the messenger had served, and they had half-expected Bella to suffer for her arrogance. Now they realized she carried her own unshakable confidence. The other guests turned back to their meals, pretending indifference. Best to avoid attracting the gaze of such predators.
Bella ignored them all. Calmly, she lifted her fork again and resumed eating, as if nothing had happened. The food was excellent, and she wasn't about to let interruptions spoil her appetite.
But peace never lasted long.
Ding—
The elevator chimed again.
Out stepped another figure, similar in appearance to the first—tall, dark-skinned, draped in ornate finery. Unlike the last messenger, however, this one carried open hostility. His eyes narrowed as they locked onto Bella, and a malicious sneer played at his lips.
Each step he took echoed across the floor like the tolling of a funeral bell.
Bella sighed inwardly. "Why do people insist on courting death when I only want to eat in peace?" She gently set her cutlery down.
The plate rang with a crisp, clear note.
The sound was the spark to a storm. An overwhelming wave of power burst from Bella, filling the entire top floor with suffocating pressure.
It was as though the ancient gods themselves had awoken in fury, or as though a timeless empress had unleashed the wrath of centuries.
The ceiling lights flickered. Outside, the once-blue sky blackened, covered by sudden clouds. Thunder rolled, lightning cracked across the heavens, silver serpents dancing wildly. Wind howled, rattling the glass walls of the tower, sending tablecloths snapping like flags in a hurricane.
The floor trembled beneath their feet.
A bolt of lightning split the sky, illuminating Bella's face—a calm mask over the storm she controlled.
The other diners shivered. Even the automatic emergency lights that flared to life couldn't drive away the oppressive darkness pressing into their souls.
The new arrivals—seven or eight in total—were caught completely off guard. Under Bella's suffocating aura, their bodies buckled. Guards fell to their knees instantly, gasping for air. They strained against the invisible weight, but no strength in their bodies could break free.
Even their leader, who had walked with such arrogance, collapsed to the ground. Sweat poured from his forehead, his breath coming in broken gasps. His arrogance evaporated, leaving only desperation.
"I—I am Sass!" he stammered. "Seventh commander of the Crow Empire. I… I mean no harm! Please, mighty Bella, calm your anger!"
The words tumbled from his lips between ragged breaths. His chest heaved, each inhale feeling like fire as the pressure crushed him. Inwardly, Sass cursed himself. What madness had driven him to provoke such a monster?
He had only intended to recruit her. News of Bella's feats had spread rapidly—how she had cut down Mossas, how she stood unflinching against cosmic predators. Any empire would be eager to secure such strength. When Sass had learned she was here, alone, dining without guards, it had seemed the perfect chance.
Now he realized the fatal error of mistaking her calm demeanor for weakness.
Bella didn't need an empire behind her. She was the empire.
And now, kneeling beneath her crushing aura, Sass could do nothing but pray that the empress before him would show mercy.
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