From Rejected Defect To Supreme Queen
Angel was slammed onto the freezing stone slabs of the central square, surrounded by the deafening, mocking laughter of her clan.
Her own sister, Jasmine, stood over her with a look of pure malice, loudly and falsely accusing Angel of sneaking into the Chief's tent to seduce him.
Then, Al Stein, the man who had sworn to be her mate, stepped out of the crowd with a twisted face of disgust.
"You're a genetic reject. You can't give me children. You're useless."
He threw their bone mate ring hard at her face, cutting her cheek, as the crowd roared for her blood.
Without a trial, the High Oracle stripped her of her citizenship and sentenced her to eternal exile in the deadly wasteland.
To make her punishment a complete joke, the guards dragged out a comatose, dying outcast named Kain, slicing Angel's finger to force a mate bond between the two defects.
They were tossed out into the raging blizzard like discarded corpses, the heavy steel gates slamming shut behind them, cutting off all light and warmth.
Angel crawled through the snow, her vision blurring from extreme starvation and the biting wind, suffocating under the weight of their lies.
Why did her own blood frame her? Why did her mate throw her away to die in the ice?
Just as the freezing shadow of death wrapped around her, a sharp, mechanical voice exploded in her mind.
[Genetic Evolution Codex activated. Host Status: Legendary Kitsune Prime.]
The despair evaporated from her chest, replaced by a burning vow to survive and make every single one of them pay.
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Chapter 6
It was noon. The central altar of the Embermane Clan was in the middle of a routine blessing ceremony. Jasmine stood at the front, basking in the attention.
Suddenly, a grating, scraping sound came from outside the heavy steel gates. The two guards stepped back in fear.
The gates were slowly pushed open. Angel, covered in snow, appeared like a ghost. In her right hand, she dragged a bloody, mangled corpse.
The body left a shocking red line on the pristine snow, stretching all the way to the edge of the sacred altar.
The crowd gasped in horror. No one could believe the exiled "defect" was still alive, let alone dragging a corpse.
Angel walked expressionlessly to the center of the altar. She swung her arm and threw Cormac's body at Jasmine's feet like a sack of trash.
Jasmine let out a theatrical scream, hiding behind Al Stein. But the extreme shock and panic in her eyes didn't escape Angel's notice.
Angel looked around coldly. "This is the assassin Jasmine sent to kill me and my consort," she announced loudly. "I demand the High Oracle deliver justice!"
The High Oracle frowned and walked down the steps. He used his staff to push the corpse's face to the side. People immediately recognized Cormac Volkov.
Whispers broke out. Cormac was Jasmine's personal guard; it was hard to deny the connection.
Jasmine immediately put on a tearful face. "I knew nothing about this!" she cried. "Cormac went missing days ago. He must have gone rogue!"
She even turned the tables, accusing Angel of colluding with wild men in the wasteland and murdering her former guard out of jealousy.
Angel scoffed. She stepped forward and kicked open Cormac's collar, revealing the bright red fox clan mark on his neck.
"If he was a rogue," Angel demanded, her voice ringing out, "why does his mate mark still point to Jasmine? Marks don't lie. He was following orders."
The entire square fell silent. The mate mark was irrefutable proof. As long as it existed, it proved he was acting under his Prime's command.
Jasmine's face went pale. She hadn't expected Angel to know the rules of the mate mark.
Just as Jasmine was backed into a corner, Al Stein stepped forward, pointing a shaking finger at Angel.
"She's lying!" Al shouted. "I saw Angel seducing Cormac before the exile! She wanted to run away with him!"
He spun a vile tale, claiming Angel had drugged Cormac and killed him in a dispute over loot. To sell the lie, Al pulled a silver hair clip from his pocket-a trinket Angel used to wear-and held it high. "I found this near his body! She lured him out!"
Jasmine's loyalists in the crowd immediately seized the opportunity. "Murderer! She's trying to frame our Prime!" a burly warrior shouted, intentionally stoking the flames. "Don't listen to the defect's lies!"
The crowd, already prejudiced and easily swayed by the planted evidence and the orchestrated voices, turned on Angel instantly. They hurled insults, and someone even threw a stone at her.
Angel dodged the stone. She looked at her former mate, the man who had sworn to protect her, and a mocking smile touched her lips.
"Selling your dignity for a new master?" she asked lightly. "Is that what men do now?"
The words hit Al's sore spot. His face turned red with rage. He lunged forward, intending to slap her.
Angel's eyes flashed. The system-enhanced reflexes kicked in. She sidestepped and slapped him hard across the face.
The sharp crack echoed across the altar. Al spun half around, blood dripping from his lip. He stared at her in disbelief.
Angel rubbed her stinging hand and stood tall, her aura so fierce that no one dared to approach.
Seeing the situation spiraling out of control, the High Oracle slammed his staff down, releasing a wave of pressure that silenced the crowd.
He looked at Angel deeply. He could see the truth, but he had to protect the high-tier Prime's reputation.
He cleared his throat, preparing to deliver his verdict. Everyone held their breath, waiting for Angel's death sentence.
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9.1
Waking up with a cold, scaly hand wrapped around my throat wasn't the worst part.
The worst part was realizing I'd transmigrated into the body of Terra Mason—the most despised woman in the entire Enclave. She drugged high-level beast-men and forced them into life-binding bio-contracts. She locked an aquatic warrior in a dry basement until his organs failed. She treated the most lethal males in the city like broken toys.
Zev, the Level 6 serpent who's currently choking me, would rather blow up his own heart than spend another day as my slave. His affection metric? Negative ninety. His trust? Zero.
Then my system activates: the Kore AI. It gives me exactly 500 credits, a medical nano-gel, and a recipe for neutralizing the radioactive poison in mutant meat. Real food. In this world, that's worth more than gold.
I save Rhys, the dying aquatic male everyone left for dead. I season a slab of purple mutant steak until Sam, a battle-scarred grizzly shifter, groans at the taste—and his trust points finally tick above zero. When my backstabbing ex-best friend tries to steal my males and destroy me, I don't scream or throw a tantrum like the old Terra. I dismantle her with the truth.
But earning their trust means more than grilling meat. A scorpion swarm ambushes us at midnight. Sam throws himself between me and a stinger the size of my arm. As he stands over the corpse, fur receding from his claws, he stares at me and whispers, "You were testing me."
Yes. I was. Because in this world, the weak don't survive. And I refuse to be weak again.
Four beast-men. Four contracts. One system. And a whole lot of steak. Let this dystopian wasteland know—I'm not the monster they remember. I'm worse. I'm the one who's going to feed them until they'd kill for me.
9.3
I woke up in a freezing, desolate wasteland, my body weak and covered in sores. A mechanical voice in my head informed me that I was a defective rabbit-mutant, and if I didn't conceive within twenty-four hours, I would die permanently.
The terror was suffocating, but the system left me no choice. To survive the brutal cold and the decay of my own heartbeat, I had to force a pregnancy with a stranger.
I stumbled through the snow, my fingers turning blue, until I found a massive, wounded Arctic Fox-mutant in a dark cave. He was a Tier-9 predator, dying and radiating the exact heat I needed to stay alive. I threw away my dignity, crawling into his fur to merge our energies, desperate to trigger the life-reset protocol before my time ran out.
I felt like a monster, forcing myself onto a man who didn't even know I existed, just to keep my own heart beating. How could I ever face him if he woke up? Why did I have to be the one to pay the price for this twisted, mechanical ultimatum?
The fusion was a success, but when I woke up the next morning, the apex predator had me pinned under his massive claws, his fangs inches from my throat. I didn't beg for mercy. I stared into his feral, ice-blue eyes and made a deal that would change everything: I would be his anchor, and he would be my protector. But then I dropped the final, terrifying truth: I was pregnant, and he was the only one who could save us.
9.3
Halie woke up to a sharp pain and a terrifying reality. She was in a new body, her face covered in a hideous web of scars, and her spiritual power reduced to a pathetic D-Class.
Before she could even process the memories of being framed, her bedroom doors were violently kicked open.
Her sister Seraphina sauntered in with a venomous sneer, followed closely by Halie's S-Class fiancé, Jett.
"Look at the disgrace of the Avila family. What a waste," Seraphina mocked, throwing a mirror at her bed.
"I can't be tied to a cripple. As an S-Class, I have to break our engagement," Jett added, his gaze full of disgust.
The nightmare didn't stop there. Her father called, screaming about how she had shamed the family name. He officially stripped her of her inheritance, froze all her accounts, and exiled her to the decaying Southern District to rot.
To make matters worse, a cold, mechanical voice suddenly echoed in her skull, warning her of an impending genetic collapse. Without an immediate energy infusion, she would face total organ failure in thirty days.
A ruined face, a treacherous family, a world that wanted her dead, and a literal death clock ticking in her brain. The original owner had died in absolute despair, a tragic victim of sheer cruelty.
But if they thought she would just sit there and die, they were severely mistaken.
Armed with a mysterious system and her brilliant scientist mind from her past life, Halie packed her bags. She chose the craziest survival quest: head to the slums, find the exiled, sterile S-Class "madman" Coleman, and cure him to harvest his life energy. It was time to start her counterattack.
9.4
My retirement was finally approved, and I was supposed to be sipping drinks on a sunny beach.
Instead, a cold system voice forced me into a nightmare scenario: "Cursed Mates Who Want Me Dead." I woke up in a stinking cave, trapped in the body of a psychopathic tribal princess.
The memories that flooded my brain made me sick. The original owner of this body had forcibly marked seven of the continent's most powerful beast-men and reduced them to tortured pets. She had ripped the shimmering scales off Jordi the Merfolk prince, gouged out a proud wolf-man's power crystal, and snapped an eagle-man's magnificent wings.
Now, Jordi was a mutilated, terrified mess hiding in a corner. He was so traumatized that he tried to slit his own throat just to escape me. His sister was actively trying to assassinate me.
To make matters worse, the system warned me that if I didn't heal these seven ticking time bombs, my soul would be erased. Yet the future timeline clearly showed that these men would eventually unite, burn my tribe to the ground, and dismember me alive.
I was paying for a monster's sins. Every time I tried to show mercy, they thought it was a sick new torture method. Words were useless, and my very presence was a trigger.
But I am a Tier-S operative, and I don't play the victim. I forced the system to unlock my powers and strapped on my tactical gear.
"Stay here and don't starve."
I left the trembling Merfolk behind and walked into the deadly primitive forest, heading straight for the powerful Oasis Tribe to take back his stolen scales by force.
7.2
I am a top-tier Alpha from another universe, but a spatial jump error dropped me straight into a high-security military isolation chamber.
Right in front of me was a terrifying, silver-haired wolf-beastman Admiral, completely losing his mind to a lethal biological heat cycle.
To survive in this strange dimension where my powers were restricted, I had to pretend to be a helpless, terrified girl.
Surprisingly, my mere presence and scent instantly cured his incurable madness.
But this backfired horribly. He became obsessively possessive, treating me like a fragile, priceless treasure.
When I managed to sneak out to the city's lawless slums to gather intel and accidentally saved a dying panther boy, the Admiral went completely feral.
He brought an entire war fleet, blotting out the sky, just to "rescue" me.
He nearly slaughtered the boy out of blind jealousy, forcing me to throw myself into his arms and cry fake tears to stop the bloodshed.
"I'm taking you home. No one will ever hurt you again."
He brought me to his flagship's secret medical bay and ordered the Empire's chief doctor to run a full genetic classification test on me.
I panicked. If they discovered my true identity as an off-world Alpha, I would be dissected or executed.
I immediately commanded my AI system to fake my blood data, aiming for a perfectly average, forgettable Omega result.
But as the machine processed my blood, the alarms blared, and the system overloaded.
The old doctor fell to his knees in absolute worship, and the terrifying Admiral looked at me with wild, starving eyes.
My system had overcompensated. I wasn't registered as average. I was just classified as the only SSSSS-grade Omega in the history of the universe.
9.1
June woke up transmigrated into the body of a ruthless billionaire's toxic, disposable wife.
Before she could even process the massive Beverly Hills mansion, a cold system voice announced she had exactly five minutes of lifespan remaining.
To survive, she was forced to bind with the system and strictly maintain the original owner's "brainless, abusive drama queen" persona to earn hours to live.
She was forced to violently slap hot coffee out of a terrified maid's hands and physically spank her manipulative five-year-old stepson.
When she tried to escape this nightmare by throwing divorce papers at her terrifying husband, Isaac Walton, he simply ripped them to shreds.
Every time she tried to be reasonable or show a hint of kindness, the system tortured her with agonizing cardiac pain, cementing her status as the most hated monster in the family.
The most absurd part happened when she threw a hysterical, system-mandated tantrum over a gossip magazine, and Isaac's icy demeanor suddenly melted.
He gently touched her hair, offering the one thing she desperately needed.
"Stop crying. I'll handle it."
Just as a spark of hope ignited in her chest, the system's critical death warning exploded in her skull: accepting his sympathy would instantly deduct thirty days of her life.
To stay alive, June had no choice but to violently slap away the only hand reaching out to save her, forcing herself to play the greedy villain while her husband's gaze turned dangerously dark.