Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System!
Chapter 441 - 441: Bella: The Granter and Bearer

Back in Manhattan, Nyxavere shook her head with a soft sigh, "Annabelle," she murmured, as though she could see exactly what was happening three thousand miles away in Beverly Hills. Her omniscience allowed her to witness Annabelle's typical lack of diplomacy even while managing a cosmic-scale rescue operation.

There was a reason she'd specifically wanted Annabelle and Elena to welcome a mortal they could erase instantly. If it had been up to her father to decide Karen's fate, the grieving sister would have been memory-wiped and sent home before she could blink. But Nyxavere had other plans—plans that required mortals to witness what came next, to document the truth of who really saved humanity when gods tore reality apart for sport.

Around her, the impossible rescue operation continued within the protective space she had created. What had started as empty air had transformed into a vast, shimmering sanctuary that defied architectural understanding.

Crystalline walls rose in spiraling patterns that seemed to exist in multiple dimensions simultaneously, their surfaces reflecting not light but hope itself. The floor beneath stretched endless, its surface soft as silk yet strong enough to support thousands of rescued humans who now lay in neat rows, receiving care that transcended medical science.

Seraphina arrived in a blur of vampiric speed, her Draven form magnificent and terrible as she touched down with inhuman grace. Her wings folded against her back as she gently deposited another group of rescued civilians—eleven more souls snatched from the jaws of artistic annihilation. Each human floated in a protective bubble of energy that maintained their life signs while filtering out the reality-warping toxins that had begun poisoning their cellular structure.

"Two hundred and thirty-seven more saved, Daddy," she called out to Parker, though her father was now deep underground pursuing his own cosmic agenda.

Her fangs gleamed as she smiled with genuine joy at the successful rescue. "The eastern are is clear!"

Atalanta and Cassidy worked in perfect coordination, their newly enhanced abilities allowing them to move through the impossible landscape of transformed Manhattan with supernatural efficiency. Cassidy's Immortal-tier power manifested as trails of fire that burned away the artistic poison afflicting rescued humans, while Atalanta's experience guided them to survivors trapped in rumbles and buildings scared to go out.

But it was Bella who truly transformed the sanctuary into something divine—no, something primal, as if the forest itself had breathed her into existence.

She didn't walk so much as glide between the rescued mortals, her presence commanding reverence from even the trees. The clingy persona she'd once paraded around Parker, the flirtatious sparkle in her eyes, the teasing tilt of her voice—that all shattered like an illusion under sunlight.

What remained was something older than memory and holier than scripture.

She moved with the effortless grace of a breeze, captivating every gaze. Gone was the clingy, playful persona she'd worn around Parker; what replaced it was a majestic allure, both commanding and seductively inviting.

Her figure was an ode to sensuality itself, curves flowing elegantly beneath a gown woven from living vines and blossoming petals that seemed to cling lovingly to her skin. Each step accentuated her sculpted thighs, revealed teasingly through the gown's gentle parting. Her hips swayed subtly with a rhythm as ancient and irresistible as nature itself, drawing eyes and breath alike.

Golden-green hair cascaded down her back like a silken waterfall, interwoven with delicate blossoms, catching impossible shards of ethereal light. Her full, softly rounded breasts rose and fell gently beneath the leafy fabric, hinting at forbidden secrets and irresistible warmth.

Skin luminous as moonlit marble, warm and inviting to the touch, radiated a soft glow that beckoned admirers closer, promising the embrace of life itself.

Leaves bloomed within her locks, woven like a crown that even the gods would hesitate to touch. Her skin—sun-kissed ivory wrapped in the very essence of spring—glowed with soft bioluminescence, and every inch of her bare feet left trails of blooming golden lilies with every step.

Wherever she walked, the broken earth mended itself. The wounded breathed easier. Children stopped crying, unaware why.

Her gown wasn't sewn but grown—stitched together by vines, blossoms, and woven magic that pulsed gently in time with her heartbeat. Emerald energy rippled from her palms as she lifted them skyward, and above her, light didn't just gather—it obeyed. Glowing spirals of golden Omni Energy swirled in perfect harmony with the wind and trees, illuminating her as though nature itself had declared her its sovereign.

This was no girl.

This was a High Elf in her truest form—born not of myth, but of cosmic truth.

Wherever her bare feet touched the ground, life flourished—golden lilies unfurling gracefully, responding to her very presence. Yet amidst this purity was a subtle promise of sensuality, an intoxicating mixture of the sacred and the seductive. Bella, in her full glory as a High Elf, was nature's embodiment of desire and reverence, irresistible and transcendent, a vision no mortal—or immortal—could ever forget.

Those who saw her didn't speak.

They bowed.

They cried.

Because Bella, in that moment, wasn't just beautiful—she was transcendence.

As Bella moved among the injured, her healing transcended mere medical intervention. Where her hands touched broken bones, they didn't just mend—they became stronger than before. Where her breath fell upon poisoned flesh, it didn't just cleanse—it elevated the very concept of health to levels mortals had never experienced.

Even those on the verge of death found themselves not just saved but transformed, their mortal frames suddenly capable of processing the enhanced reality they now inhabited.

The sanctuary itself responded to her presence. Flowers of impossible beauty sprouted from the crystalline floor wherever she walked—roses that bloomed in colors that had no names, lilies whose petals contained miniature galaxies, vines that grew in mathematical spirals that somehow sang harmony when the wind passed through them.

The air itself grew sweeter, more oxygen-rich, as though she were a living atmosphere processor designed to sustain paradise.

Trees began growing along the walls of the sanctuary—not planted, but spontaneously generated by the overflow of life energy Bella radiated. Their branches intertwined to form living tapestries that depicted scenes of hope and healing, while their roots created networks of support that made the entire structure more stable and beautiful.

Every human she healed added to the cumulative life force in the sanctuary, creating a feedback loop of vitality that transformed their refuge into something beyond the garden of Eden.

Children who had been near death now ran laughing between flowers taller than themselves. Adults who had been broken by impossible trauma found peace in the overwhelming presence of pure, nurturing life.

Far, outside the sanctuary, the battle between Ma'at and the Painter had left Manhattan in a state of artistic impossibility. Streets flowed like rivers of liquid asphalt.

Buildings , although protected now—existed as geometric poetry that hurt to perceive directly.

The very concept of "city" had been deconstructed and reconstructed according to an artist's fevered imagination, it had left millions dead through the simple fact that they could no longer exist in a reality rewritten by cosmic madness.

But within Nyxavere's protected protection, life flourished under Bella's care while Seraphina, Atalanta, and Cassidy continued their impossible mission of salvation.

Nyxavere adjusted her camera to capture everything, her livestream now reaching over eighty million viewers as humanity watched gods save mortals from destruction caused by other gods.

The irony wasn't lost on her—in the end, it wasn't heroes or traditional saviors rescuing the innocent. It was her family, beings of such power that they operated beyond human understanding, yet who chose to value mortal life when it would have been easier to let everyone die.

"And that," she announced to her global audience with genuine pride, "is how you do cosmic disaster relief. Like and subscribe if you want to see more impossible rescues!"

****

Meanwhile...

Parker's expression remained steady, though his jaw tightened slightly as he felt the weight of what he was about to attempt. He understood the true cost—a cost that went far beyond mere responsibility. Prime World cores weren't sources of power to be claimed; they were cosmic infants that required constant protection and care.

Once he bonded with one, his very essence would become intertwined with every iteration of that location across infinite realities.

If the core was damaged, he would suffer. If it was destroyed, he would die alongside it.

He had known from the start that his mother's plan involved this exact burden. The pearls designed to interface with and protect Prime World cores were her creations, but the moment he used them, they would bind his life force to beings that held the weight of infinite realities within their essence. Every New York across infinite dimensions would become his children to nurture and defend—and every threat to those cities would become a direct assault on his existence.

It was the ultimate blessing wrapped in the ultimate responsibility: infinite connection at the cost of infinite vulnerability. A cosmic parenthood where love and death were separated by the thinnest of margins.

Seoryeon stared at them both, her mind still reeling from the revelation about Sophisticated Space's true purpose and the impossible numbers still flooding her tablet.

She was about to witness someone attempt to claim authority over the multiversal anchor point that kept infinite Earths connected through a single cosmic nexus. Her corporate understanding of acquisition and ownership suddenly seemed laughably inadequate for what was about to unfold.

Parker's power reached critical resonance as he prepared to access the Prime Core—the beating heart of multiversal New York, where all possibilities converged into a single point of infinite potential.

The descent into responsibility was about to begin.