Chapter 778: Chapter 779: Yes. Lady Isabella, it is a girl.
The pain became a bright white thing.
Then pressure.
Then burning.
Then release.
A third newborn cry filled the room.
It was smaller at first.
Then it rose higher.
Clear.
Sharp.
Alive.
The older woman’s face broke into relief. "A girl."
For one second, Isabella did not understand.
Then the words reached her.
A girl.
Her whole face crumpled.
"She’s a girl?" Isabella whispered.
The younger woman was already cleaning the baby with warm cloth, hands shaking from joy and exhaustion. "Yes. Lady Isabella, it is a girl."
The baby was tiny, curled in beast form like her brothers, her little snake body dark red but with a softer shine beneath the firelight. She also had two tiny soft horns on her head. They were small and delicate, almost hidden at first until the cloth moved. She cried again, her little body twisting with surprising strength.
Cyrus stared at her.
His daughter.
His sons.
All three children were here.
All alive.
And Isabella was still alive.
For one moment, Cyrus could not speak.
He pressed his face against Isabella’s hair and kissed her again and again, not caring that she was sweaty, exhausted, and covered in the mess of birth. His lips touched her temple, her cheek, the side of her head. His arms shook around her.
"You did it," he whispered. "You did it. You are safe. They are safe."
Isabella could barely keep her eyes open.
Her whole body felt hollow and heavy at the same time. The pain had not disappeared, but the terrible pressure was gone. The last child had left her body. The room was full of babies crying. Three cries. Three living sounds. Three tiny beings who had taken almost everything from her and given her something she did not even know how to hold yet.
The older woman and younger woman did not waste time. The birth was done, but their work was not. They checked Isabella quickly, cleaned what needed to be cleaned, pressed warm cloths where needed, and watched her bleeding with sharp experienced eyes. The older woman spoke low instructions to the younger one, and the younger woman obeyed fast.
"She is weak," the older woman said. "But she is steady."
Cyrus heard steady and nearly broke all over again.
Then Bubu appeared.
The little glowing system floated in front of Isabella with the most shameless smug look in the world.
{Congratulations, user. You did a good job. You are now a mother.}
Isabella opened one eye.
If death had not failed to take her, Bubu’s timing might finish the job.
{As a congratulatory gift, your perfect system has prepared a small recovery potion. It will ease some pain and help heal the birth damage. Please note that full restoration is not included because user did not purchase the premium postbirth care package.}
A small bottle appeared beside Isabella’s hand.
Isabella stared at it.
Then she looked at Bubu.
"For free?" she asked weakly.
{If user does not want it, I will take it back immediately.}
Isabella snatched it from the air so fast that even Cyrus blinked in confusion.
The two women stared.
Cyrus looked at the bottle in her hand. "What is that?"
Isabella was too tired to explain properly. "A gift from that greedy thing."
Cyrus did not understand, but he trusted her. After everything that had happened, strange bottles appearing around Isabella had become something he could only accept and question later. He helped lift her head slightly, and Isabella drank some of it.
Warmth spread through her body.
It did not magically heal everything. It did not make her jump up from the bed. It did not erase the exhaustion or the soreness or the heavy ache left behind by nearly two days of birth. But it softened the worst edges. The sharp pain in her lower body eased. Her breathing became smoother. Her head cleared a little.
She let out a shaky breath. "Oh, thank God."
Cyrus’s eyes softened with relief.
Then Isabella looked at the bottle.
There was still some left.
Her gaze moved to Cyrus.
He was pale. Too pale. His arm was bitten in several places. Blood marked his skin. His power had been drained from suppressing the demon blood, holding her steady, protecting the children, and pushing himself beyond what even he should have done.
She lifted the bottle toward him.
"Drink."
Cyrus immediately shook his head. "No. It is for you."
"I already drank."
"You need it more."
Isabella looked at him with tired anger. "Cyrus."
His lips pressed together.
She raised the bottle a little higher. "You gave me your blood. You used almost all your strength on me. You are not about to sit there looking like a tragic ghost and tell me no."
"I am fine."
"You look like flour."
The younger woman coughed once and quickly turned away.
Even the older woman’s mouth twitched.
Cyrus looked at Isabella with tired helplessness. "You just gave birth."
"And you are still arguing with me."
He lowered his head slightly, and for the first time since the labor started, a small smile touched his mouth. It was weak, but it was real.
Isabella softened.
"Drink it," she said, gentler now. "Please."
That did it.
Cyrus took the bottle from her hand and drank the rest.
The effect was smaller on him, but it still helped. Some color returned to his face. The wound on his arm slowed its bleeding. His breathing became less strained. He looked at Isabella, then leaned down and kissed her forehead.
"Thank you," he whispered.
Isabella closed her eyes. "You better thank me. I gave birth to three of your horned snake babies."
His smile trembled.
Then, while she was not looking, he placed his palm lightly over her lower stomach and let the last bit of his power flow into her, small and careful. It was not enough to drain him badly, but enough to ease the leftover pain. Enough to make her body relax a little more.
