"We've done unimaginable damage to this land…" Storm stood within the protective circle as well, but her focus was completely different from that of ordinary people.
Bella had realized it earlier than anyone else. As more and more insects died, the Reaper's energy weakened accordingly. That energy didn't simply disappear—it flowed back into the natural environment through the countless insect corpses.
This canyon might once have been a paradise for insects, but after today, it was fit only to become a graveyard. The death aura here was so dense it made her physically uncomfortable.
Ecology? Bella didn't care. After what had happened, she had no intention of ever returning. Whether this place became a dead zone or not had nothing to do with her.
Her attention remained completely fixed on the Reaper. From what little she could make out, he wasn't humanoid, nor was he a cloud of smoke—he was more like a winged… something. The details were impossible to distinguish.
Even though she had a full invisibility charm active, she still wrapped herself tightly in several thick blankets, leaving only her eyes exposed.
Despite such excessive protection, she was still bitten twice. Two purple welts swelled up on the back of her hand, throbbing painfully. She clenched her teeth and endured it.
The battle lasted the entire night. By dawn, every trace of life force inside the canyon had been completely drained.
Now? Forget Native Americans—even if aliens from Reach showed up, none of them could survive here. Under the sunlight, faint ghost-like shadows drifted across the ground. Who could stand a place like this?
The Reaper had annihilated all vitality in the canyon, replacing the old curse with a new one of his own.
"That thing… looks like it disappeared?" Storm said uncertainly.
No one could answer. The survivors and agents alike were utterly exhausted—Bella included—looking wilted and half-dead.
They retreated to a nearby town to rest. Sensing no omen of death, Bella lay down on a bed and fell asleep almost instantly.
…
Back in the canyon, the FBI team—FBI in name only, actually S.H.I.E.L.D.—returned.
Victoria Hand was still in charge, but all personnel had been replaced with fresh faces. This group consisted mostly of technicians rather than field agents.
They deployed advanced-looking instruments, donned full protective suits, and began a grid-style sweep of the canyon.
That afternoon, they discovered a pool of thick, foul-smelling liquid in the south-central area. The puddle was about one meter in diameter. No one touched it, but the dark brown mass slowly writhed on its own, as if alive, inching in a particular direction.
"Ma'am, we found another puddle like this two hundred meters west."
"Ma'am, another one to the northeast."
Victoria Hand had clearly anticipated this. "Collect them in batches. Seal each sample in an alloy containment box. Label them X-1187, X-1188, X-1189… Codename: Reaper. Transfer them to Site 'Cabin in the Woods' for containment."
Then she picked up her phone. "Nick Fury, your assignment is complete. Don't forget what you promised."
A voice on the other end replied, "Of course. The funding will be transferred to your lab account before sunset today."
She ended the call with a sigh. These days, survival was hard for everyone.
High school students had their own worries; she bore crushing responsibilities herself. For her dreams, for her future, she refused to slow down.
This time, she had taken more than half of Bella's credit for herself. Under normal circumstances, if it were just an ordinary high schooler, who would bother competing for credit?
But Victoria had sharp instincts. Bella was definitely not a normal high school girl. When things were at their worst—even Claire had panicked, and several elite female agents had performed worse than Bella.
Why was she so calm?
Hand sensed that Bella still had cards she hadn't revealed. She hadn't stolen the credit out of malice—she simply had no choice. Still, she didn't want Bella to resent her. She planned to compensate her properly afterward and smooth things over.
…
"Ah—" Bella yawned loudly and stretched, sunlight glinting across the smooth skin of her waist and abdomen.
No death omens. No vampires causing trouble. This was how life should be.
She guessed the Reaper was dead—or if not dead, then at least incapable of attacking anyone for quite some time.
The agents withdrew soon after. They were busy people, and without an immediate death threat, there was no reason to stay in this small town.
The survivors prepared to return to Arizona. They fully intended to sue Global Airlines for an astronomical sum in compensation. Demons and curses were beyond them, but lawsuits, protests, and appearing on television to stir public sympathy? They were experts. Bella figured she'd need to learn that skill someday.
Storm left alone. She had come only at Professor Charles Xavier's request, and with the incident resolved, she naturally returned.
The Redfield siblings said their goodbyes as well. They didn't want media attention. Mercenary work wasn't hard to find, and unlike Bella, they weren't short on money. They abandoned the compensation lawsuit entirely. Chris even transferred Claire to another school.
"Goodbye, Bella."
"Goodbye, Claire."
Bella was just about to leave when Victoria Hand called out to her and invited her for coffee.
Without her tactical vest, Victoria looked far more refined. A chestnut-colored suit, eight-centimeter heels, and a pair of wide-framed glasses gave her the air of a university professor.
The self-interested, hyper-practical woman asked gently, "Bella, which university are you planning to apply to?"
College was Bella's next major goal, and she'd already done some research.
Professor Jean Grey's mentor—Professor John Grey at Bard College—had an excellent program. Founded in 1860, Bard was one of America's top liberal arts colleges.
But the tuition was a nightmare. According to Bella's research, it was at least seventy thousand dollars a year.
Even if she somehow had seventy thousand dollars, she wouldn't dare go. That was New York—the Marvel Universe's New York. Toss a brick and you'd hit two superheroes and a supervillain. Terrifying.
The farther her school was from New York, the safer.
Though she didn't entirely agree with it, she had technically spent enough time in the West to count as a "Westerner" now.
East Coast versus West Coast prejudice, Northerners looking down on Southerners, the Midwest pitied by everyone—if she went back East, she'd definitely face all kinds of subtle discrimination.
Her options were limited.
"Stanford University's History Department, I guess… My grades should be good enough, but I seriously lack real-world experience…"