Apocalypse Villainess Transmigrates Into The Beastworld With Debt

Once the deer was fully roasted and seasoned, Hana dug in, chewing thoughtfully.

The warm, rich protein hit her empty stomach, and she could almost feel the tiny, greedy pulse in her lower abdomen settling down, satisfied with the offering.

As she ate, her mind was already mapping out the wiring diagram she had studied from the system’s technical database earlier.

There was still a bit of information she had yet to grasp, but she was sure it would work out if she looked at the real thing.

Spending ten years surviving in a decaying, post-apocalyptic wasteland didn’t just teach you how to shoot a gun, use a machete, or forage for scraps; it forced you to learn how to keep the lights on.

When the world fell apart, those who couldn’t splice a wire, patch a generator, or read a basic schematics manual were the first to freeze in the dark.

She had spent months in her past life huddling in abandoned research outposts, reading water-damaged engineering manuals just to figure out how to bypass blown fuses.

And she was only 13.

She was so young, and yet she had to grasp all of it in order to survive.

And for the things she didn’t know and couldn’t comprehend? She just had to steal them.

She became a skillful thief and a very great manipulator.

Right now, she didn’t need to be a skillful thief or manipulator, but she did need her technical skills.

She could figure out most things. And as for what she couldn’t figure out, the Aegis security locker had come with a thick, ruggedized digital manual.

"Listen up," Hana said, wiping her fingers with a damp cloth.

The three males immediately locked their eyes onto her—Caspian had a smug look, Raiden’s eyes were filled with sharp curiosity, and Kulu watched her with quiet, steady eyes.

She stood up and walked over to the first massive Aegis crate, popping the heavy latches.

Inside lay thick, heavy-duty black cables, copper grounding rods, and several heavy, rectangular blue blocks—the lithium-ion power storage batteries.

"Caspian, Kulu," Hana commanded, pointing toward the high, flat ridge just above the den’s entrance. "Those solar panels are useless down here in the shade. The sun hits the southern edge of the ridge first and stays there the longest. I need both of you to carry all six panels up there. And make sure they don’t fall.

Caspian puffed his chest out, his golden eyes flashing. "A simple task for a dragon. I can carry three at once."

"No," Hana cut in sharply. "You will carry them one by one, carefully. If a single panel slips and cracks, I will personally make sure you sleep on the hard dirt for the next month. Kulu, you fly the perimeter and help him balance them. The wind up there is strong, and those panels will become heavy and hard to control once you lift them. Work together."

Caspian clicked his tongue, muttering how he didn’t need the bird’s help, but he would take it since it was Hana’s instructions.

Kulu nodded, his amber eyes serious as he had found himself useful once again. "I will ensure the wind does not catch the sun-glass, Hana."

Just call it panels. You don’t have to be so primitive about it. But she found herself calling it a sun-glass as well, for their convenience.

"Anyway, that’s the spirit. Now, Caspian, come here," Hana said, reaching for the heavy tool belt she’d prepared while the deer was roasting.

Caspian stepped closer, looking at the belt draped over her arm with curiosity.

Just as she was about to put her plan in motion, she realized there was an error in her calculation.

Even if Caspian and Kulu got the things up there, there was no space up there wide enough for her to stand on and work safely with a vibrating drill. And she couldn’t leave the work to them either because they were, well, amateurs. Primitive beasts who only knew how to fight, hunt, and flex their ego.

They didn’t know the first thing about handling a drill, and giving them a task to work with the cables was like giving a lizard a screwdriver to install a fan.

She snapped her fingers, her eyes sharp.

"Actually, change of plans. Kulu, you’re the more agile flier. You’ll be the one carrying the panels up one by one and holding them against the rock face for me."

Kulu blinked, his amber eyes as focused as before. "I understand, Hana." More work meant he was more useful, right?

"And Caspian," she turned back to the dragon, who looked momentarily confused by the sudden shift. "You’re going to be my legs today. You’ll carry me up there and hold me in place while I fix the panels to the stone. I need my hands free to work the tools, so you have to keep me steady. If I fall, you’re dead. Understood?"

Caspian didn’t hesitate. His grin widened, his large hands sliding around her waist and hoisting her up as if she weighed nothing more than a feather. "I would never let you fall, Hana. You are safer in my arms than on the ground."

He seemed even more smug now, enjoying the fact that he was the one literally supporting her.

"We’ll see," she muttered. She looked over at Kulu. "Kulu, grab the first panel. Caspian, let’s go."

"What about me, Hana?" Raiden asked, sulking because he had not been given any tasks.

"I’ll let you know once I get back. For now, monitor the boars and watch the cave. If anything happens, call out, okay?"

"Yes, Hana." He sounded quite pleased for someone being left behind, much because he had more time to spend staring at his face in the mirror.

With a powerful leap and a single snap of his obsidian wings, Caspian shot into the air. Hana gasped as the wind whipped her hair, but his grip was firm, steady, and secure.

Hana’s eyes swept through the tip, looking for the best spot that didn’t seem likely to fall apart in a sudden earthquake or storm.

Then, just as she thought the southern ledge seemed perfect, and the sunlight would reach there even as the sun was setting.

"Go over there," she announced, pointing over at the ledge.

They hovered just inches away from the vertical face of the high ridge, the roar of the wind competing with the flapping of Kulu’s wings as he brought the first panel up to meet them.

Hana pulled a heavy, battery-powered drill from her belt. She looked at the two of them, their faces filled with a mix of awe and confusion as they watched the strange metal tool.

"Listen to me," Hana called out over the wind. "This mountain is strong, but we need to make it hold our things. This tool has a ’tooth’ that eats stone. I’m going to make a hole, and then we’re going to put in a ’metal root.’"

The reason for explaining this was so they could also learn how to use it. They were going to find more bunkers in the future, and they would have more work to be done, so she wouldn’t be the only one using these tools.

Hana held up a long expansion bolt. "See this? When it goes into the hole, and I tighten it, the bottom opens up like a bird’s claw gripping a branch. Once it’s in, the wind won’t be able to pull the sun-glass away. Understand?"

They both nodded, though still in awe at the strange tools, wondering if they would work just as she said they would.

Caspian watched intently as Hana pressed the drill against the bedrock. Whirr—! The high-pitched shriek of the drill bit hitting the stone made both men flinch, their wings stuttering for a second. Kulu’s amber eyes widened as he saw the gray dust spray out, a clean, perfectly round hole appearing where there had been solid rock.

"It... eats the mountain?" Kulu whispered, his voice hushed with reverence.

"It does," Hana replied, her focus entirely on the task. "Caspian, hold me steady. Don’t let me drift even an inch."

She worked quickly, but she made sure they were watching every move. This was both a task and a lesson, teaching them the logic of her world. She showed them how to align the brackets and how to hammer the ’roots’ into the stone.

"Next time, one of you will have to do this," she said, glancing at Caspian. "You have the strength, but you need to be precise. If you push too hard, you break the tooth. If you don’t push enough, the root won’t take hold. It’s like a firm grip—strong, but not crushing."

Caspian nodded, his expression unusually solemn. He looked at the drill, then at the sturdy metal bracket now bolted to the cliff. He was beginning to understand that Hana’s power didn’t come from claws or fire, but from the strange, silent wisdom of these metal objects.

By the time the third panel was secure, the sun was at its peak. Hana was sweating, her hair plastered to her forehead, but she didn’t stop.

"Kulu, get the next one," she commanded. "We’re halfway there."

As Kulu dived back down toward the den, Caspian pulled Hana a little closer to his chest, his golden eyes searching hers. "You are incredible, Hana. You make the world obey you without even raising your voice."

Hana let out a dry laugh, wiping dust from her cheek. "The world doesn’t obey me, Caspian. I just know which levers to pull. Now, keep your wings steady. We have three more to go."