The attackers were your typical beastkin types—tail, animal ears, the whole package—but the dog tribe had a key difference: they were huge.
While the average cat tribe mber barely hit 5 feet tall, the dog tribe mbers were towering brutes, averaging around 6 feet of raw muscle and testosterone.
Cats might be sleek and agile, but the dogs? They were like walking refrigerators. Sure, the dogs could snap a cat warrior like they were breaking a toothpick, but first, they had to catch the slippery bastards.
Every ti one of those dog brutes swung their ham-sized fists or that ridiculous sledgehamr they all carried, the cat warriors just noped right out of there, dodging like their lives depended on it (which, to be fair, they did).
These dog tribe fools loved their sledgehamrs, but swinging those things was slower than a drunk turtle.
The real advantage the cats had? Traps. The cat tribe had a PhD in booby traps, and they used them like they were going out of style.
Dog tribe idiots would charge in, thinking they were invincible, and suddenly, boom—caught in a pit, tangled in a net, or worse, stepping into a trap that yanked them up by the ankle, leaving them dangling and looking like total morons.
"Yeah, there's the crack in the wall like he said. Through it! Grab any kittens you can find and plunder the village! And don't kill the females!"
Jacky, the leader of this not-so-bright raid, barked out orders like he was leading a parade. His eyes zeroed in on a weak spot in the village's bamboo wall, just like that weird human had told them.
Of course, Jacky didn't know that trusting a human for directions was about as smart as using a porcupine as a pillow. But hey, he'd figure that out soon enough.
Jacky had been suspicious of the human from the mont he slithered into the camp with that cocky grin.
Jacky's first instinct? Capture him, roast him over a fire, and maybe snack on his bones. But no matter how many tis he tried to catch this slippery bastard, the human moved like smoke, always just out of reach.
And Jacky wasn't so weakling either—he was level 600, the second strongest in his entire village. The fact that he couldn't even scratch this guy? That was a kick right to his oversized dog-ego.
The human had waltzed in like he owned the place, talking about how he knew all the weaknesses of the cat tribe. Even pulled out a map, pointing to a weak spot in their village defenses like he was so kind of strategy genius.
Jacky had narrowed his eyes, growling, because if this human was feeding him a load of crap, he was gonna be lunch, no questions asked.
So naturally, Jacky asked the human,
"What's in it for you, huh? You want gold? Weapons? Or you just one of those weirdos who gets off on causing chaos?"
But the human? He didn't even blink.
"Two won," he said, calm as ever. "I've got my eye on two fine cat ladies, and that's all I want in return."
Jacky's ears perked up at that. Now this was a guy he could get behind! If this human had said sothing noble—like wanting to save lives or bring peace—Jacky would've gutted him on the spot.
He couldn't stand those high-and-mighty types, the ones who thought they were heroes sent by the gods to save everyone's sorry ass. Nah, this guy was after sothing simple, primal.
"Should I go straight to your chief since you're clearly not interested?"
The human asked, but Jacky cut him off before he could even finish.
"No need for that, human. The tribal chief's too busy handling... more important matters. Small jobs like this?
Leave 'em to Jacky."
He gave a sly grin, already plotting how he'd twist this to his own advantage.
"Alright," the human shrugged. "But rember, the won shouldn't be hard. I've got plans for them."
Jacky chuckled.
"Don't worry, human. No harm will co to the won."
Of course, Jacky was lying through his sharp teeth. The truth? The chief wasn't busy at all.
In fact, if this human went directly to the chief, Jacky would end up as nothing more than cannon fodder, while the human walked away with all the glory—and probably a couple of hot cat girls too.
No, Jacky had to play it smart. He'd take all the credit, and if the plan went well, the chief would have no choice but to reward him handsoly.
As the human turned to leave, he tossed one last nugget of advice over his shoulder.
"Rember, keeping the cat kin as slaves is way more satisfying than just killing them. Think about it: personal servants at your beck and call. You can do... whatever you want with them."
Jacky's grin widened. Now that was an idea he could get behind. The human was right—why waste such pri material on a quick death when he could make their lives a living hell, and enjoy the perks along the way?
Jacky was already daydreaming about a cute little cat tribe mber wearing an apron, scrubbing his floors and cooking his als, all while calling him "Master" in that purring voice. Hell, the idea alone made his tail wag like an excited pup.
It was strange, though—after the initial urge to rip the human's throat out, he suddenly felt... at ease around him. No tension, no suspicion. Just blind trust.
And, sure, there wasn't any magic involved. Right? RIGHT?!
Ah, who gives a shit, Jacky thought. The human was right about everything so far. The bamboo walls really did have cracks in them, just like the guy said.
Normally, they'd have to waste precious ti hamring away with those clunky sledgehamrs, but not today.
Today, those sneaky little cats were done for. Ti to collect so new house servants.
"Break their hands and legs!"
Jacky bellowed, raising his sledgehamr like a warrior about to claim victory.
"We're taking them as slaves. Glory is ours today, boys! Hooray!"
He grinned wide, his sharp canine teeth gleaming under the moonlight, ready to smash through the wall and kick off his new career in catgirl managent. The future had never looked so... furry.
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