Brennan was the first to break the silence. He sneered, "Even without your memory, you're still cunning. Three months is plenty of time for you to scheme something nasty."

Dangelo twirled the discarded quill between his fingers, his eyes dark. "We have no obligation to play house with a crazy woman," he added coldly.

Isolde knew words weren't enough. She took a deep, shuddering breath. Using every ounce of strength left in her battered body, she pushed herself up from the floor. Her legs refused to fully support her, forcing her to heavily drop to her knees beside the table. She dragged her upper body up, leaning most of her weight against the rotting wood. Before they could stop her, she picked up the quill. But she didn't sign the parchment.

Under their shocked gazes, Isolde raised her right hand and drove the sharp, metal end of the quill hard across the pad of her thumb, slicing a deep, jagged line through the flesh.

Blood welled up instantly. Isolde gasped but didn't scream. She pressed her bleeding palm hard against her own chest, over her heart.

She looked up, her eyes clearer and more resolute than they had ever been. "I swear to the Beast God," she declared, her voice ringing with a raw intensity, "by my soul and my life. If, after three months, you three still wish to annul the contract, I, Isolde Perry, will sign without condition. I will exile myself to the wasteland. If I break this oath, let my soul be devoured by beasts, never to find peace."

As the words left her lips, a faint golden light flickered across the ceiling. The Law of the Beast God had acknowledged the vow.

The three men froze. In this world, no one dared make a false oath to the Beast God. It was a curse worse than death.

Brennan's mouth hung open. He stared at the blood dripping from her palm, a flicker of something complex in his eyes. Dangelo's mocking smile was gone, replaced by a deep frown.

Cameron stared at her for a long moment. Then, he stepped forward and swept the three parchments off the table, tucking them back into his coat.

"Since you've sworn to the Beast God," Cameron said, his voice low, "we will give you three months. But don't expect any care from us."

Isolde's tense muscles finally went slack. She had won the gamble.

But the moment the adrenaline faded, the reality of her injuries crashed over her like a tidal wave. Her vision went black. Her body went limp, collapsing forward like a puppet with cut strings.

Cameron, standing right in front of her, instinctively reached out. His arms caught her falling body, pulling her against his chest.

Isolde's head rested against him. She could smell a faint, bitter scent of herbs on his clothes.

Dangelo and Brennan didn't move to help. They just watched.

Cameron frowned, looking down at the woman in his arms. She was as light as a piece of paper, her face as pale as a ghost. A strange, uncomfortable feeling twisted in his gut.

He carried her to the broken wooden bed and laid her down gently. As he pulled his arm back, his gaze landed on the bloody mat of hair at the back of her head. He remembered the moment, just hours ago, when he had shoved her.

He leaned in close. His eyes traced the gruesome, bloody mat of hair, and for a fleeting second, the cold scholar's mask slipped. He looked at her pale face, and a sudden, uncharacteristic wave of hesitation washed over him. He had pushed her on purpose. It was a calculated move to rid them of a monster. Yet, seeing her broken like this, he questioned his own descent into the very cruelty he despised.

Isolde, hovering on the edge of consciousness, felt the tense, complicated silence radiating from him. Her heart clenched in fear. But she forced herself to keep her breathing steady, playing dead.

Cameron lingered for a moment, making peace with his own guilt. He had been a scholar once, not a killer.

He straightened up and turned to the others. "She's lost too much blood. If she dies before the three months are up, we'll be charged with murder. Get some food."

Brennan cursed under his breath and stormed out into the snow. Dangelo just snorted and walked to the far corner of the room, closing his eyes.

The room fell quiet. Isolde lay in the dark, her mind racing. The heavy, suffocating silence of Cameron's lingering gaze still chilled her to the bone. This three-month battle for survival had only just begun.

Outside the stone house, the wind and snow had lessened slightly. Cameron and Dangelo stood under the eaves, staring out at the white wasteland.

Dangelo exhaled a cloud of white breath. "We can't let her remember," he said, his voice icy. "If she gets her memory back, we're dead."

Cameron looked at him. "How do you propose we do that?"

Dangelo's lips curled into a cruel smile. "We make her work to survive. If she's exhausted and starving every day, she won't have the energy to remember anything."

Cameron didn't argue. He nodded. The unspoken agreement was made: they would use the harsh environment to break her, physically and mentally.

Inside the dark, freezing room, Isolde's consciousness had sunk into the virtual space created by the Nexus system.

A soft blue light pulsed. [Host has survived the first three hours. Novice protection period ended. Distributing talent rewards. ]

A surge of warm, immense energy exploded from Isolde's heart. It rushed through her veins, bringing both a sharp pain and an incredible sense of relief.

[Congratulations, Host. You have awakened Life Magic (Beginner). Effective for healing wounds and accelerating plant growth. ]

Before she could process that, a wave of spatial distortion hit her, making her dizzy.

[Congratulations, Host. You have awakened Spatial Magic (Beginner). You have gained a 10-cubic-meter static storage space. ]

Isolde almost jumped for joy in her mind. In a world that worshipped physical strength, having magic was her ticket to survival.

She couldn't wait to test it. Her consciousness snapped back to her body. She opened her eyes a crack. The room was empty, and she could hear Dangelo and Cameron talking outside.

Isolde carefully lifted her injured hand-the one Dangelo had crushed and she had stabbed with the quill.

She focused her mind, following the system's instructions. A faint, pure green light bloomed in her palm, glowing like a firefly in the dark room.

She pressed the light against her wounds. A cool sensation washed over her skin. The deep puncture wound and the swollen bruises began to heal at a visible rate.

Within a minute, her hand was smooth and pale, without a single scar.

Isolde was stunned by the power. She immediately reached back to touch the fatal wound on her head. The green light flashed again. The throbbing pain vanished, replaced by a dull itch as the wound closed, leaving only a small scab.

As the magic faded, a wave of exhaustion hit her. [Warning: Beginner Life Magic energy depleted. Requires food or rest to recover. ]

Despite her fatigue, Isolde's eyes sparkled with excitement. She decided to test the spatial magic next. She looked at the chipped wooden bowl on the floor. With a thought, the bowl vanished.

She closed her eyes and saw the 10-cubic-meter space in her mind. The bowl was floating there. Another thought, and the bowl reappeared on the floor.

She took a deep breath. With these two trump cards, she finally had the confidence to survive the next three months.

The crunch of footsteps outside made her freeze. She quickly pulled her hand under the thin blanket and closed her eyes, feigning weakness.

The door burst open. Brennan walked in, covered in snow. He was carrying a frozen, unrecognizable low-level beast corpse by its leg.

He threw the carcass onto the floor with a heavy thud. "Get up and work," he barked at Isolde. "No free rides here."

Isolde opened her eyes, pretending to be startled. She looked at the bloody, scaly beast on the floor, her expression shifting to one of perfect fear and helplessness.

Inside, she was calculating. If they wanted to work her to the bone, she would use it. She would use the chore of preparing food to show them just how much the "new" Isolde had changed.

Isolde stared at the level-four Dual-Horned Rat Demon on the floor. Its hard scales and the stench of its guts made her stomach roll. She forced herself not to gag.

She looked up at Brennan, making her voice tremble. "Do you have a knife? I don't know where to start."

Brennan scoffed. He pulled a rusty iron dagger from his belt and dropped it at her feet with a clatter. Then he turned and walked out, slamming the door shut.

The moment he was gone, Isolde dropped the act. She picked up the dagger, her eyes turning sharp and focused.

She used her modern knowledge of anatomy. Instead of hacking at the tough scales, she found the soft gaps in the belly. With precise cuts, she avoided the foul-smelling glands and guts.

Even though she was weak, her technique was efficient. She managed to carve out the edible hind leg meat.

As for the rest-the bloody bones and offal-she quickly shoved them into her spatial inventory. It would make good fertilizer or bait later, and it kept the room clean.

Holding the slab of meat, Isolde stepped outside to find water to wash it. The freezing wind hit her like a wall. She shivered, looking around. The estate was large, but overgrown and ruined.

She walked along the eaves, avoiding the snow. Suddenly, her nose twitched. A smell cut through the cold air. It was thick, fresh blood, mixed with the scent of a dying beast.

Isolde frowned. She followed the scent to a half-collapsed woodshed at the corner of the estate.

The door was ajar. The wind howled through the cracks.

Gripping the rusty dagger tight, Isolde pushed the door open.

In the dim light filtering through the gaps in the roof, she saw a sight that made her scalp tingle.

A massive man was chained to the wall. His arms were stretched out, locked in heavy black-iron cuffs. He was shirtless. His body was a canvas of horror-whip lashes, knife cuts, and burns that went down to the bone. Fresh blood dripped from his ankles onto the snowy floor.

His head hung low, his silver-gray hair matted with dirt and blood. On top of his head, a pair of furry, blood-stained wolf ears lay flat against his skull.

Isolde's mind supplied the name: Humberto Brewer. The wolf beastman. As the name surfaced, a sickening wave of memories crashed into her-the crack of a barbed whip, the spray of his blood, her own cruel laughter. Her stomach violently lurched, bile rising in her throat as the sheer depravity of the original Isolde's actions washed over her. She swallowed hard, forcing down the overwhelming guilt that belonged to a monster she never was, focusing only on the desperate need to save him. The original Isolde's favorite punching bag.

Because he never bowed or begged, she had locked him in this shed and tortured him for half a month.

Isolde rushed over. She reached out and pressed her fingers to his neck. His skin was ice cold. His pulse was so faint it was barely there.

[Target life signs below 1%. Imminent death. ] The system flashed a red warning.

Isolde's heart skipped a beat. If Humberto died, her mission to win over the five beastmen would fail before it even started.

She dropped the meat and the dagger. Without hesitation, she pressed both hands flat against Humberto's cold, broad chest.

She didn't care that her own magic reserves were nearly empty. She forced every ounce of Life Magic she had left into his broken body.

A brilliant green light erupted from her palms, flooding into Humberto. The deep wounds on his chest began to knit together, the bleeding stopping as the flesh slowly regenerated.

Suddenly, heavy footsteps echoed outside the shed. Dangelo and Brennan had sensed the magical fluctuation. They threw the door open.

They stood frozen in the doorway, staring in shock at Isolde, who was glowing with the holy light of Life Magic, her hands pressed against their dying comrade. It was as if they were staring at the end of the world.