Resurrecting the Genius Within

Chapter 454 Companion 

dont matter if she’ka clone She’s still trabelle 

Tm starving, let’s hustle. Isabelle declared. 

George hoisted her up, grinning. “Got it.” 

The pair made their way back to the hotel, grabbed a bite, then resumed their journey. 

The rain, unyielding for days, showed no signs of abating. Property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

Having just secured new accommodations after relocating across town, they’d spent two days holed up in the hotel, hoping for a break in the weather. 

As the rain finally subsided, the ground remained damp underfoot. 

Isabelle slowed her pace, eventually coming to a halt. 

Turning to George, she announced, “I’m craving grapes.” 

“There’s a fruit stand back on the street we just passed; want me to grab some?” George suggested. 

“You go,” Isabelle replied. 

“By myself?” George clarified. 

“I don’t feel like walking.” Isabelle teased.. 

“I’ll carry you there,” George offered. 

“Just go,” Isabelle insisted, waving him off. 

George looked at her, still not moving. 

Isabelle didn’t act any differently than usual. “Well, what are you waiting for?” 

“Give me a second. I’ll be right back.” 

“Yeah.” 

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Grenge hesitated the departed. 

Oher he left, Ibelle followed suit. 

Having ins arrived and unfamiliar with the neighbourhood, she wandered towards quieter streets until she found herself in a deserted corner. 

Show yourself. Isabelle called our 

A ligure emerged, slender with sharp features and eyes devoid of emotion. 

It wasn’t Jacques or Storm Shadow; it was Storm Shadow’s clone–a presence that shouldn’t exist. 

Dark clouds hung overhead ominously, the air heavy with the lingering dampness 

of rain. 

Puddles dotted the ground, reflecting the two figures confronting each other. 

The clone’s eyes gleamed with malice, a glint of cold steel in hand, poised for 

attack. 

In a tense stance, he focused solely on Isabelle. 

Conversely, Isabelle stood with her hands in her coat pockets, regarding the clone with an absence of animosity, as if facing an old acquaintance. 

Her gaze held a knowingness, as if she saw beyond the clone, glimpsing another. soul. 

The clone seemed to catch something in her look, hesitating to strike. 

“Do you have to come alone, knowing you can’t win? Clones may lack emotion, but they aren’t mere automatons. Aren’t you afraid of death, of risking your life like this?” Isabelle’s tone was gentle, as though conversing with an old friend. 

But her final words weren’t directed at the clone; they were meant for the original. 

Storm Shadow glanced at her but said nothing. 

“I thought clones could talk?” Isabelle remarked. 

Before Storm Shadow could respond. Isabelle smiled to herself. “Well. if you won’t 

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i 

talk, then heather will 1. That’s just how it goes. 

With a composed demeanour. Tabelle withdrew her hand from her pocket, revealing a dagger. Let’s finish this” 

As the sky resumed its drizzle, the cold wind tugged at their clothes, and raindrops stung then faces. 

Storm Shadow narrowed his eyes and lunged at Isabelle. 

The rain intensified, drowning out the sounds of their battle on the street corner. The clash of their weapons echoed sharply. 

An unidentified weapon fell to the ground, staining the water with a pool of crimson–the blood of an unknown source. 

The skirmish ended quicker than expected. 

Isabelle displayed a level of decisiveness and ruthlessness previously unseen. Despite sustaining wounds, she pressed forward without hesitation, displaying a formidable resolve. 

Even when a dart grazed her arm, she continued undeterred like a machine intent on killing and killing only. 

Were it not for the absence of hatred in her eyes, her attacks would almost look like they came from a place of deep enmity. 

She didn’t dare let up her momentum lest she couldn’t bring herself to deal the final blow. In her mind, hesitating would result in her own downfall. 

Storm Shadow collided with the wall, his body battered, blood seeping from his mouth, arms limp, tendons severed, unable to support himself. 

Instead of crashing to the ground, he found himself caught by Isabelle, who had rushed forward to break his fall. 

His bloodied chin rested on Isabelle’s slender shoulder. 

In a soft voice, Isabelle addressed him, “Speak, and I’ll spare you.” Her tone was gentle, akin to coaxing a child. 

A silence settled over them, broken only by Storm Shadow’s labored breaths for 

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survival. 

“Once more” habelle pleaded, almost as if in prayer, say my name, call me Isabelle 

Driven by the instinct to live, Storm Shadow’s bloodstained lips parted slighty, and after a moment’s struggle, he managed to utter the name she sought.“. Isabelle 

It was a voice she was so familiar with. Isabelle almost broke down. 

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