The Transmigrated Villain Claims the Heroines!

The aircraft descended through the smoke-choked sky, the ramparts of Ravenhold growing larger beneath us. Below, soldiers were already clearing a landing zone, waving signal torches to guide us in.

The wheels touched down with a jolt, and the engines began to whine down. Reina was already at the bay door, scanning the landing zone for threats.

"Clear," she said.

"You didn’t need to do that."

"Just making sure you don’t have assassins or traitors within your ranks."

I followed her out, boots hitting the stone, and the moment I did, the soldiers nearest to us snapped to attention. Bloodied, exhausted, some of them barely able to stand, but they still straightened their spines when they saw me.

"At ease," I said, waving them down. "Someone get me a status report."

"Cian."

Anastasia’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding. She strode toward me across the rampart, her crimson eyes alert despite the dark circles shadowing them.

But it wasn’t her urgency that caught the men’s attention; it was the name she’d used.

Even Reina noticed.

"Did she just call you... Cian?" she murmured, close to my ear.

"You’re bleeding," Anastasia said, her gaze dropping to my sleeve.

"Stray bullet. Nothing to worry about."

Her eyes narrowed. She swept her gaze across the camp, jaw tightening. The look on her face promised retribution.

"Don’t worry," she said. "I’ll make sure they’re punished properly."

"That’s not necessary."

"Cian." Her voice softened, just slightly. "Please. Let me handle it."

I studied her for a moment, then sighed. "Fine. But don’t let it get in the way of efficiency."

"No need to remind me."

She’s just as strange as when I first met her, but at least now I can read her properly. That’s one of the main reasons I chose to unlock [Lust Sense]. If she’s going to be the second heroine, I need a reliable way to know what she’s thinking.

And... her thoughts are just as strange as the expression she wears.

If I had to describe it, it was a strange mix of something between obsession and a tense challenge. Like she still hadn’t made up her mind about me, her body coiled, ready to snap at any moment, still deciding which mask to show me next.

Even in the novel, her personality was never fully described. Which, now that I think about it, is a little surprising.

"Edward," I said, turning away from Anastasia. "Where is he?"

"Command post." Anastasia fell into step beside me, her boots echoing mine. "The medics wanted to sedate him. He refused."

"Of course he did."

We crossed the rampart, weaving through clusters of soldiers who stepped aside the moment they saw me coming. The command post was a reinforced bunker built into the inner wall, its entrance guarded by a pair of sentries who snapped to attention as I approached.

Inside, the air was thick with the smell of antiseptic and old blood. Maps covered every available surface, marked with fresh notations in red ink. And there, propped up on a cot in the corner, was Edward.

His armor had been removed, replaced with bandages wrapped around his torso, his arm, his thigh. A fresh dressing was pressed against his side, already darkening with blood. His face was pale, his eyes hollow, but when he saw me, relief immediately replaced his expression.

"You look terrible," I said, pulling up a crate to sit beside his cot.

"I feel worse." His voice was hoarse, scraped raw from shouting orders over gunfire. "But I’ll live."

"The A-Class beast?"

"Retreated after it tore through my unit. We wounded it, I think. But not enough."

Behind me, Reina had drifted to the map table, her violet eyes scanning the notations. Anastasia stood near the door, arms crossed, watching.

"I apologize for my incompetence." Edward’s voice was low, his gaze fixed on the bloodstained floor. "I never should have engaged it alone. I thought I would have been able to—"

"Copy my tactics?"

He flinched. "...Yes."

I let the silence stretch for a moment, long enough for the weight of his mistake to settle between us.

"The past is the past," I said finally. "But let me remind you of something, Edward. You’re not me."

My voice wasn’t harsh, but it didn’t need to be. The words landed like stones in still water. And I definitely need to make sure I did. The last thing I needed was to have my most competent general and advisor just die because he tried stepping up to replace my sudden loss of proactiveness.

"Don’t do anything reckless like that again."

Edward’s jaw tightened. For a moment, I thought he might argue. Then his shoulders sagged, and he nodded.

"Of course, my duke."

I turned to Anastasia, who had been watching the exchange from the doorway, her crimson eyes unreadable.

"The beast’s movements. What’s the report?"

"None." She stepped into the room, her boots silent on the stone floor. "Or to be more precise, all of them are avoiding our territory now. According to the reports I received the moment you landed."

"Avoiding us?"

"Yes." Anastasia moved to the map table, her finger tracing the surrounding territories. "We’ve received news from the other outer dukes and marquisates, it looks like the beasts that were bombarding us have switched targets. Guess you scared them off."

"Think they’ll be able to handle our workload?"

"Most likely, no," Edward answered for her. "I’ll give them a week before their borders collapse, and we’re the only ones left standing."

"And after that?"

"Either the beasts will switch focus back to us again, or ignore us completely and continue straight towards the empire’s center."

Strategy really is annoying...

Just because I helped win a decisive battle and a rescue mission didn’t mean I won the entire war. And this made that very clear.

What in the world did I get myself into...?

"Then we’ll plan for the upcoming days."

"You’ll be staying here for a while?"

"Of course."

"Then what about Lady Amberlyne? Will she be able to handle the other nobles while you’re gone?"

"She will. I can assure you of that."