Apocalypse Villainess Transmigrates Into The Beastworld With Debt

The crowd erupted into a low murmur, the greed for the ’Sun-glass’ light shifting into a competitive hunger for the reward.

​"Vane!" Hana barked, and the dragon prince nearly tripped over his own tail. "You want to be useful? Organize them. If they want to help, they can start by clearing the lower path and moving the outer crates to the secondary landing. But nobody enters my den. If anyone crosses the threshold without my permission, Caspian, you have my permission to incinerate them."

​Caspian let out a huff of smoke, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. "With pleasure, Hana."

​As the mass of beastmen began to move under Vane’s frantic directions—mostly out of fear of Caspian’s molten gaze—Hana turned back toward the den.

She wasn’t about to let ’street rats" into her home. She and her mates would handle the internal setup of the kitchen; she preferred her sanctuary kept to those she actually trusted.

​Raiden was leaning against the stone wall, still admiring his own reflection, when a small, scruffy fox-kin scurried forward. He was a pathetic sight—scrawny, covered in patches of mud, and possessing only a single, limp tail.

​"Raiden..." the little fox squeaked, trembling so hard his ears rattled. "Is it really you?"

​Raiden lowered his mirror, his emerald eyes narrowing in immediate, cold disgust. He looked like he was seeing a piece of filth that had survived a fire.

​"Ugh. Why is a mangy thing like you coming near me?" Raiden spat, his nine tails lashing out behind him with a sharp, aggressive snap. "You’re getting dust on my aura. Get lost before I let the lizard eat you."

​"Wait!" the scruffy fox cried, bowing his head until it hit the dirt. "I know a place! Beyond the Whispering Ravine. There is a hole in the mountain that feels like... like cold lightning. We can’t get in. Even the Elders’ magic bounced off the gray skin of the cave. They said it was a curse, but when I saw your lights..."

​Raiden’s face transformed. The playful, narcissistic mask didn’t just slip—it shattered. A dark, bitter hatred bubbled up in his eyes, the kind of look that usually belonged to Caspian. The mention of the Whispering Ravine and the ’Elders’ seemed to trigger a memory that tasted like ash.

​"The Whispering Ravine," Raiden repeated, his voice dropping into a dangerous, low hiss. He stepped toward the shivering fox, his shadow looming large. "The Elders are still hiding in their holes, then? Still calling anything they can’t understand a ’curse’ to hide their own weakness?"

​Hana stepped forward, sensing the sudden spike in Raiden’s blood pressure. "Tastes like cold lightning? Gray skin?"

​The little fox nodded frantically. "Yes, Great Female! It is exactly as you said. Gray stone that is not stone. It stands in the deep territory of the Fox Tribe, near the place where the shadows never move. We were told to never touch it."

​Hana looked at Raiden. The fox was unusually still, his fingers gripping the edge of his hand mirror so hard the frame creaked.

This felt like more than a lead. Raiden rarely ever got worked up, but right now, it was silent, just added the mention of his tribe. It seemed... personal.

Was he like this because he had been expelled? And looking at the raw venom in his eyes now, she suspected the ’tricks’ he’d played on them were only half the story.

​"Your old home, Raiden?" Hana asked quietly.

​Raiden huffed, a sharp, jagged sound. "A graveyard is more like it. They killed everything worth keeping in that place a long time ago." He turned to Hana, his usual smirk returning, though it looked forced and brittle. "If there’s a bunker there, Hana, let’s go. I’d love to see the look on those old hags’ faces when we tear their ’curse’ wide open and take everything inside."

​Hana smiled, a sharp, knowing glint in her eyes. "Well, it looks like we’re going to go break a curse. If this runt is right, that’s Bunker Number Two."

​She looked at the scruffy messenger. "What’s your name?"

​"K-Kip, Great Female."

​"Fine, Kip. You’ll stay with the Boars for now. If your information is good, you’ll be rewarded. If not..." She glanced at Caspian.

​"I’ll have a snack," the Fire King promised.

Kip gulped and nodded before being led away by the boars.

Raiden turned back to his mirror, but he wasn’t looking at his hair. He was staring at the reflection of the Ravine in the distance, his eyes cold and unforgiving.

Hana realized then that the Fox Tribe had wronged Raiden in some way. This overly chirpy Narcissist can’t just go quiet for no reason.

​"Cheer up, Raiden," she teased, though her voice was firm. "You’re going back as a winner."

​"I don’t want them to dream, Hana," Raiden muttered, his green eyes flashing. "I want them to watch while I take everything they thought was sacred."

Raiden’s voice lacked its usual melodic lilt; it was flat, like the surface of a frozen pond. The way he spoke about "everything they thought was sacred" wasn’t about greed. It was about desecration.

​Hana watched him for a moment longer, her internal processor whirring. She knew that look. It was the look of someone who had watched their world burn and was now holding the match for someone else’s.

Well, if it was revenge he wanted, she would help him. Hopefully ,the system rewards her efforts for it.

​"Caspian, Kulu," Hana called out, turning away from the plateau where Vane was currently screaming at a group of confused bear-kin. "The ’guests’ are handled for now. We have work to do inside. I want the kitchen module unboxed and the induction plates tested before noon."

​Caspian grunted, giving the horizon one last suspicious glare before following her. Kulu lingered a second longer, his gaze shifting between the retreating Kip and Raiden’s stiff back. He didn’t understand the fox’s past, but he understood a soldier’s grudge. He placed a silent, heavy hand on Raiden’s shoulder as he passed.

​Raiden flinched, then relaxed, his tails drooping slightly. "Don’t touch the fur, Falcon. You’re dusty."

​The jab lacked its usual bite, but he understood Kulu was trying to cheer him up.

"Seriously," he muttered under his breath. "Look at your own messy past."