To His Hell and Back-Chapter 274: Weapon to Kill-I

The sound of the gunshot was loud and Arabella was certain the other vampires who had ran from the place would take it as their mission to spread to all the other participant of the hunt their location. The more power means the easier it would be for them to apprehend her, cut her apart as her limbs were what would turn to points and with that they could be free to win this competition.

Arabella wasn’t sure how much would those vampires speak but she was also worried about Isabelle’s safety as if those vampires instead see her as an enemy, she would be in great danger.

"You were looking at the weapon earlier," said Isabelle and Arabella had to heard it for the second time to understand what the princess had said.

She never knew that riding a horse would hurt her hip, not only that, talking while galloping on a horse was a nightmare with how difficult it was.

Arabella spoke back louder, "It’s... such a dangerous weapon."

"You mean amazing," Isabelle retorted, "It’s a newly made weapon from the West. A weapon that’s thin yet hold the power that’s comparable to even that of a canon."

"A canon," she whispered with a purse of her lips, gulping a little.

"Do you like it?" Then Isabelle inquired to her which made Arabella to blink. She asked again, as though she thought that she hadn’t heard her well, "Do you like the weapon?"

"I find it scary," Arabella answered, "But I also think that the weapon, if used for good, perhaps could solve some problem."

A soft hum came from Isabelle, as if she were pleased by that answer. "So you like it in a certain way." Then, without hesitation, she pulled the weapon from its ornate holster and held it out. "Take this one, then."

Arabella’s stomach twisted. Her hands instinctively reached out, only to immediately panic. She nearly dropped it, but Isabelle’s grip steadied both her hand and the gun. Their fingers overlapped. Warm skin against clammy, trembling hands and Arabella’s breath hitched as the imagery of the vampire whose head had been blasted reappeared to her head,

The gun felt too heavy. Not just in weight, but in meaning.

"No—I... there are others better suited. I shouldn’t—"

"You are suited for it," Isabelle said firmly, slowing the horse to a trot. Her voice had softened, but her eyes... her eyes gleamed with something electric. Her crimson irises shimmered like they were feeding off the fear Arabella was too ashamed to show.

Arabella swallowed, trying not to shake.

She should’ve felt reassured. Isabelle’s kindness to protect her should have allowed her to found comfort in the protective gesture. But instead, a cold chill crawled along her spine. There was something in Isabelle’s voice. A rapture, a certain exhilaration that made her blood ran in excitement. Not about the gun itself, but about Arabella holding it. As if this moment meant something more than just self-defense.

As if Isabelle wanted her to kill. As if Isabelle wanted to watch her kill.

But who does Isabelle really want her to kill?

Vampires? Men? Or-

"I can’t use it," Bella refused again, "I don’t know how to-"

"I can simply teach you, but it’s best for you to have this weapon now," continued Isabelle with a smile, "Please? I’m worried about you."

When seeing Isabelle’s furrowed eyebrows and her saddened expression, Arabella could feel that the princess had been genuine in wanting her to have the gun to protect herself.

There was a glint— almost joy— that unsettled Bella.T hen Isabelle’s fingers slowly stopped at her knuckles, faintly rubbing her smooth skin. Her crimson eyes deepened while she devoured Arabella’s features with her eyes.

Arabella froze.

Something didn’t feel right. The way Isabelle had rubbed her knuckles didn’t feel anywhere innocent.

It should be. Yet it didn’t.

Something was far wrong and her head was yelling at her to stop the invitation.

But Isabelle was clever. Brilliant, even. She knew exactly where the boundaries lay and how to dance on their edge, pressing just enough to unsettle without provoking rejection. It was her way of slipping past Arabella’s defenses: a slow erosion, not a break. She would nudge the line, retreat before protest, then return again. pushing a little further each time. Not enough to be refused. Just enough to be remembered.

"Arabella," she then whispered, "There is a bullet in this pouch," she brought another heavy dust pouch to her hand, placing it on Arabellas’ other hands, her smile turning into a grin, "These bullets contain silver. One shot is all you’ll need and they will die from it without any struggles. No regeneration. No games."

Arabella stared at the weapon. It was beautiful. Too beautiful. Unlike Isabelle’s floral one, this one was darker: etched with vines, thorns, and butterflies caught mid flight. Even the handle was shaped to pull one’s fingers into place.

"Just hook your finger here," Isabelle guided, gently showing Arabella’s hand toward the trigger, pressing the pad of her finger into the smooth metal curve. "Then pull. Simple, right?"

Her voice was almost cheerful, like a child so delighted to teach her friend the ways to use a colored crayons into the papers.

And Arabella’s skin broke out in goosebumps, seeing how Isabelle was so happy to teach her. It wasn’t bad- it supposed to be a gesture of friendliness and loyalty yet why was she feeling so... so scared? It was as if she was about to be pushed off a cliff to the abyss of death.

She couldn’t breathe for a moment. Something was wrong. Not in the action, but in the feeling of it all. As if this wasn’t about protection.

It was transformation.

The smile on Isabelle’s face wasn’t cruel, it was delighted. Proud. And something about that terrified Arabella more than the vampires ever could.

Her back shivered involuntarily.

"Take it won’t you?" Isabelle whispered and when Arabella could only hold it in terror- not utter a single word while staring at her face, studying her expression, Isabelle had instead smiled wide. She then rubbed Bella’s wrists and only when Arabella pulled away in uneasiness, finally did Isabelle let her go and turned back to hold the horse’s reign.

"I trust that you would do it for good," Isabelle kicked the horse to start and as she does she whispered, "After all, not even that crown prince could do anything against it."