Apocalypse Villainess Transmigrates Into The Beastworld With Debt

​The Chief’s eyes were clouded with a mix of anger and grief, but before he could protest, Hana leaned in closer.

​"But I am not taking him for free. So, here is my proposition," she said. "I will help you get better. I have a medicine that can knit your skin back together and purge the poison from your blood. If you are strong and healthy again, you won’t need to cling to Kulu. You can lead your tribe. You can make more heirs with your own females. You won’t be a dying man watching his son walk away; you’ll be a King standing on his own two feet again."

​The Chief stared at the white pill in her fingers. He was a beast of instinct, and right now, his instinct was screaming for survival.

​"You would... give this to me?" he asked.

​"For a price," Hana murmured, though the system had already rewarded her. "The price is Kulu’s total freedom. He belongs to my nest now. No more ’prince’ duties. No more ’Saint’ nonsense. Do we have a deal?"

​The Chief let out a long, shuddering breath. "Give me... the life... and you may have the Prince."

​Hana didn’t hesitate. She pressed the pill against his parched lips. As soon as it touched his tongue, it dissolved into a warm, golden mist.

​The effect was nearly instantaneous. The sores on the Chief’s arms began to dry, and new, pink skin started to knit over the raw patches.

His breathing, once shallow and ragged, smoothed out into a deep, powerful rhythm. The grey, brittle feathers on his bandaged wings, the ones Caspain had ripped to shreds, seemed to regain a hint of their former luster.

​Hana watched the transformation with an analytical eye. Fifty thousand for the mate, ten thousand for the pill, and I just bought the loyalty of a whole tribe.

She straightened her back, looking out toward the horizon where she could see Kulu’s vibrant red wings returning to her.

​"Civilization doesn’t just need tools," she whispered to herself. "It needs allies. And I think I just bought myself a very big bird."

> ​[QUEST PROGRESS: 45%]

> [TIME REMAINING: 10 HOURS 06 MINUTES]

> [RELATIONSHIP UPDATE: Red Falcon Tribe - Neutral/Indebted]

Kulu landed, accompanied by a heavy wind that blew her hair about.

Hana tucked her hair behind her ear and walked towards him to check his hands and make sure he did not make any mistakes.

Kulu watched her, wondering why she was caring, and his heart did frantic flips.

"Good, it seems you made it safely," she said, lifting her head, only to find him blushing again, but he quickly looked away.

"I have dropped the box in front of the bunker and asked them not to touch it if they value their hands," he said, his voice firm as if he had not just blushed at her action.

"That’s good," Hana said. "And it seems your father is getting well now that I have taken the box out. So, do I earn more of your trust now?"

Kulu’s eyes widened, and he quickly sped past her, shoving the feather curtains aside as he made his way inside to confirm her words.

And to his shock, he found his father sitting, the peeling skin giving way to fresh tanned skin, and the dying red feathers stitching together and glowing vibrantly like that of a newborn falcon.

He was speechless, stunned, and... he did not know what to say.

Kulu fell to his knees beside the bed of furs, his fingers hovering, trembling over his father’s arm. He didn’t touch the skin, terrified that it would still fall away at the slightest brush, but the weeping red sores were gone.

The heavy, metallic stench of the room was being replaced by the natural, musky scent of a healthy predator.

​"Father?" Kulu whispered, his voice cracking.

​The Chief looked at his son, his eyes no longer clouded with the grey film of the ’curse’. He gripped Kulu’s shoulder—his grip was firm, strong enough to bruise.

"The land-crawler... She spoke the truth, Kulu. She has healed me. The cold fire is gone. My blood... it feels as though it has been washed clean."

​Hana stood by the curtain, her silhouette framed by the harsh mountain light. The scene was playing out exactly as she had calculated. To Kulu, she wasn’t just the woman who had shamed him anymore; she was the one who had brought his father back from the grave.

With this, Kulu will not only feel the need to trust her, but he will be indebted to her as he follows her.

​"I have made a pact, my son," the Chief said, his voice regaining its deep, resonant boom. He looked over Kulu’s shoulder at Hana. "You are no longer the heir to these cliffs. You are the wind beneath her wings. You will go with her, and you will protect her nest as if it were our own."

​Kulu’s eyes widened, and his head snapped back to look at Hana. The blush from earlier was gone, replaced by a look of profound, heavy-hearted realization. He wasn’t being sold; he was being traded for his father’s life. And for the first time in his life, Kulu didn’t feel like a victim of the trade. He felt a strange, terrifying sense of relief.

​He stood up slowly, his wings unfurling to their full, vibrant span. The red feathers shimmered in the dim light. He walked toward Hana, stopping just inches from her.

He was two heads taller than her, a powerful beastman who could snap her neck with one hand, yet he looked down at her bare feet and the silver hem of her dress with the eyes of a devotee.

​"You saved him," Kulu said, his voice a low, jagged murmur. "You didn’t have to. You could have just taken the stone and left us to rot."

​"I told you, Kulu. I don’t like wasting useful tools," Hana replied, her tone as blunt as ever. She reached out and flattened a stray feather on his collarbone. "Your father is a tool for the future. You are the tool I need right now. Do we have an understanding?"