Villain's Breeding System: Evolving 999+ Harem into an SSS-Rank Legion Chapter 38 - A Declaration of Ownership

Hana’s husband’s scream was inhuman—high-pitched and raw, the kind of sound that ca from pain so overwhelming the brain couldn’t process it.

He collapsed sideways, both hands flying to his ruined leg where the knee joint was bent at an angle that knees were definitely not ant to bend.

Bone fragnts were visible through torn flesh. Blood pooled rapidly on the floor.

His face turned purple, veins bulging at his temples as his body went into shock.

Raven stepped over the convulsing body like it was garbage, his eyes never leaving Hana.

She was still on the floor, dress bunched around her hips, tears streaming down her face, looking up at him like he was an angel and a devil all at once.

Raven’s voice, when he finally spoke, was calm. Final. Absolute.

"From now on, you only spread your legs for ."

And that was it.

That was the mont Hana ’broke’.

Not from fear. Not from pain.

But from ’relief’.

The dam inside her chest—the one she’d been building for years, reinforcing with every silent tear, every swallowed scream, every mont she’d told herself to just ’endure’—

It ’shattered’.

She started crying.

"Hic... waaah..."

Really, truly ’crying’.

"Uwaah... Sobb..... Snff... Hic..."

Deep, ugly, wrenching sobs that ca from sowhere primal and broken deep inside her chest. The kind of crying you do when you’ve been strong for too long and your body finally forces you to feel everything you’ve been suppressing.

Her hands covered her face as her shoulders shook violently. She cried like a child—helpless, desperate, ’free’.

Behind Raven, her husband twitched once. Twice.

His face had gone from purple to a sickly blue-gray. His eyes bulged grotesquely. Foam appeared at the corners of his mouth.

Then he went still.

Dead. Or close enough that it didn’t matter.

Heart attack, probably. His alcohol-weakened system couldn’t handle the shock and trauma of his shattered knee.

Raven didn’t even look at the corpse.

He moved forward, stepping carefully around the spreading pool of blood, and bent down.

One arm slid under Hana’s knees. The other behind her back.

And he lifted her effortlessly into a princess carry.

"Kyaaa~!! W-what~!"

She was ’heavy’—thick and soft and warm in his arms, her body substantial in a way that made his muscles actually work to hold her.

But he didn’t struggle. Didn’t grunt with effort.

Just held her like she weighed nothing.

"Wait—the neighbors—" Hana gasped between sobs, her face still buried against his chest. "They’ll hear—they’ll call the police—"

"They won’t," Raven said flatly.

And he was right.

Outside, the neighboring houses remained dark. No lights flickered on. No curtains twitched. No doors opened to investigate the screaming or the sound of splintering wood.

Because people in neighborhoods like this had learned a long ti ago that minding your own business was the key to survival.

See nothing. Hear nothing. Know nothing.

That was the rule.

Hana clutched at Raven’s shirt, her fingers twisting in the fabric as she continued to cry against his chest. Her mascara was running, leaving dark streaks on his shirt, but she couldn’t stop.

Couldn’t control the years of pain pouring out all at once.

Raven looked down at her—at this broken, naive, beautiful woman who’d been ground down by life until she’d forgotten what it felt like to be ’wanted’. To be ’protected’. To be treated like sothing precious instead of sothing disposable.

His arms tightened slightly around her thick, pillowy body.

And then—

The air shimred.

Reality bent.

And they vanished.

One mont they were standing in the ruins of her ho, surrounded by blood and broken wood and the corpse of her husband.

The next mont, they were gone.

Leaving nothing behind but empty space and the faint scent of ozone in the air.

The world snapped back into focus with a disorienting lurch that made Hana’s stomach flip.

One mont she was cradled in Raven’s arms, the ruins of her ho dissolving into darkness behind them.

The next, her feet touched solid ground—wooden floorboards, smooth and polished, so different from the splintered, worn planks of her own house.

She stumbled, her legs weak and unsteady. Raven’s hands steadied her shoulders for just a mont before releasing her completely, leaving her swaying like a drunk woman trying to find her balance.

Hana stood there trembling, her hands clutched together in front of her chest so tightly her knuckles had gone white. Her eyes were still red and swollen from crying, mascara streaked down her cheeks in dark, ssy rivulets that made her look like sothing out of a tragedy.

"Where... where are we?"

Her voice ca out small, confused, barely more than a whisper.

She blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of what just happened.

"Wait—how did I—how did we—"

The question died in her throat as she spun in a slow, disbelieving circle, taking in her surroundings with mounting shock.

They were in an apartnt.

Small. Cluttered. Dimly lit by a single desk lamp in the corner that cast long shadows across the space.

The air slled faintly of paper and ink, with an underlying scent of stale coffee and old takeout containers.

But what made Hana’s breath catch in her throat—what made her heart start pounding for entirely different reasons—wasn’t the size or the lighting or even the ss.

It was the ’walls’.

Drawings. Dozens—no, ’hundreds’—of them.

Taped, pinned, hanging from every available surface like so kind of erotic art gallery.

Pornographic drawings.

n and won tangled together in various positions—explicit, graphic, anatomically detailed sketches that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. So were fully colored, vibrant and bold with shading that made the bodies look almost three-dinsional.

Others were rough pencil sketches, unfinished but no less explicit in what they depicted.

Missionary. Doggy style. Cowgirl. Positions Hana didn’t even have ’nas’ for.

Won with their legs spread wide, mouths open in silent moans of pleasure or pain or both. n with their hands gripping hips, faces buried between thighs, cocks buried deep inside welcoming bodies.

But many of them were ’destroyed’.

Ripped down the middle. Crumpled at the edges. So had been torn off the wall entirely and lay scattered on the floor like casualties of war.

Like soone had been in a rage and tried to destroy their own work.

Hana’s face burned. Heat flooded from her cheeks down her neck, spreading across her chest beneath her thin dress.

Her hands flew up to cover her mouth, but her eyes couldn’t look away from the images.

She ’stared’.

At the curves of drawn female bodies. At the thick cocks penetrating them. At the expressions of ecstasy and submission captured in pencil and ink.

And she felt sothing warm and shaful curl low in her belly—sothing that made her thighs press together instinctively, trying to contain the sudden, unwanted heat.

Raven looked around the apartnt, his dark eyes scanning the space with casual familiarity.

A slow smile spread across his face.

Empty.

The webtoon artist wasn’t ho yet.

Perfect. That gave him ti.

"Just wait a second there," he said casually, his tone suggesting he’d just asked her to hold his coat rather than commanding her presence.

Then he moved forward with predatory swiftness and ’shoved’ Hana toward the bed in the corner.

"Ah—!"