"Even if I'm not the bait, I'll still have to face the curse. The danger level is about the same."
"Trust me—against supernatural forces like that, your agents and I are no different. If I get hurt, you can save me. But if you get hurt, I can't save you. I'll be the bait."
Bella stated firmly and without hesitation.
Victoria Hand didn't immediately agree. She turned to glance at the agents behind her. Being the sharp, insightful leader she was, she instantly understood what her subordinates were thinking.
Truth be told, the agents were scared. Facing a Grim Reaper with unpredictable attacks, all the skills they'd honed—marksmanship, languages, combat, infiltration, surveillance, counter-surveillance—were useless. In comparison, they really weren't much different from Bella.
Though they didn't say it aloud, the agents genuinely admired Bella's courage.
Even Storm felt a faint sense of goodwill toward her—courage, integrity, responsibility… these were universal virtues. Even the leader of a ruthless criminal syndicate would rather have loyal underlings who'd take a bullet for him than those selfish cowards who secretly plotted to stab him in the back.
Bait, of course, needed some protection.
There were no bulletproof, stab-proof, fireproof super-suits here—the era of mass-produced superhero tech was still far away. While the technology for advanced armor existed, manufacturing one wasn't yet considered necessary. Even Victoria Hand herself was only wearing a standard bulletproof vest.
So all they could offer Bella was a lightweight ceramic-composite vest capable of stopping handgun rounds within twenty meters. It was more psychological comfort than actual protection. Against the Reaper, the increase in her survivability was negligible.
But Victoria Hand clearly had no intention of taking it back. Considering an organization of their size had ample resources, Bella accepted it without reluctance.
"We'll protect you. Don't worry," Storm said seriously.
Bella nodded. She was nervous—anyone would be. The Grim Reaper was far more troublesome than a vampire.
One bait wasn't enough, though. What if Bella died? What if the Reaper didn't clash with the Native curse the way they expected? They had to account for every contingency.
Victoria Hand arranged two backup decoys.
Claire Redfield, moved by Bella's fearless resolve, volunteered as the second bait. The young man Alex—who'd shown precognition during the flight accident—also wanted to volunteer, but after testing his reaction speed, the agents found him far inferior to Bella and Claire. Sending him would simply be sending him to die. So the third decoy position went to a highly trained agent already on the Reaper's kill list.
The survivors watched them with expressions like prisoners awaiting execution. They had no idea what was happening, but obediently stayed aside.
Night settled quietly. Everything proceeded in an orderly, methodical fashion.
Agents opened the building's doors to let the natural environment flow into the interior, creating the conditions needed.
"I'm starting. Be ready," Storm warned. Her role was simple—forcefully activate the Native American curse.
Bella nodded gently. She was prepared.
Storm stepped outside. An invisible force erupted from within her. This was Bella's first time seeing someone cast a spell. Her eyes locked onto the energy currents around Storm, scrutinizing every detail.
"Hm?" She let out a small sound of confusion.
Victoria Hand glanced at her. Bella shook her head, signaling it was nothing.
She couldn't distinguish the essence, but from this close range, she could at least observe the general framework.
Storm's magic was clearly a clever hybrid. She used the magic in her bloodline as the guide, her X-gene as the power source, merging magic and mutant ability into a casting effect greater than the sum of its parts.
Ingenious.
To outsiders, it was spectacle, but to the initiated, it revealed the true mechanics. Bella, as a beginner in the mystic arts, was unquestionably an "insider."
Storm's core power was her mutant ability. Bella's was her psionic energy. Neither of them was a pure spellcaster.
Bella memorized every detail, saving it for later study.
A violent wind roared into existence out of thin air. Storm's silver hair danced wildly as her body levitated a meter off the ground. Her eyes turned white, her arms raised high, static crackling in the air like sand grinding against metal.
The agents' radios were heavily disrupted, but they'd been warned beforehand and remained calm.
Bella didn't remember much about Storm—just that she was descended from some African lineage. The spellcasting motions resembled a ritual of some kind. What was being invoked? What was the underlying principle? Bella couldn't quite understand yet.
But observing Storm's method gave her a spark of insight into the Reaper.
Magic requires a process. A ritual.
Why did the Reaper kill? Revenge? Rage? If so, what was he doing for the past two hundred years?
He wasn't just killing randomly. He was conducting a ritual—a ritual for himself—trying to awaken his own power through slaughter.
Watching the process firsthand gave Bella a burst of enlightenment. Her still-in-development invisibility technique finally broke through its final conceptual barrier and solidified into an actual spell.
The essence of invisibility was not true disappearance, but becoming unseen. Her scent, body, and presence remained in the physical plane, and hostile interactions would still break the spell.
Would that help in the current situation? Bella sighed. Not really.
She kept staring intently at Storm, searching for more inspiration.
BOOM!
It was like a sharp awl piercing through a balloon.
Storm's spell collided head-on with the Native curse that filled the canyon.
The curse roared, enraged at being provoked. It surged forth from the trees, from pits, from water, from cracks in stone.
Suddenly, the surrounding forest erupted. Countless rustling sounds awakened in the dark. Swarms of insects surged forward. They would purge these intruders from their ancestral land—something the long-dead tribe had failed to do.
"Now!" Storm yelled, exhausted beyond belief, collapsing from the sky. Two agents rushed to catch her and helped her run back inside. As she fled, she shouted toward Bella:
"It's all you now!"
Bella was already ready.
If the Reaper had a favorite person, she didn't know who it was. But if she had to guess who he hated most—
She was almost certainly at the very top of that list.