The Quest Is Simply To NTR All The Heroes

Kaisen chuckled to himself as he casually told the cats to scram, waving them off like they were flies buzzing around his grand performance.

"Run along, kittens. Leave the big bad dogs to me."

The cats, wide-eyed and clearly relieved, bolted out of there faster than you could say "furry massacre."

Now, it was time for the real fun. Kaisen had the dogs running scared, and honestly, it was hilarious.

They scattered like headless chickens, panicked and desperate, thinking they might outrun the one-man apocalypse they'd just witnessed.

But Kaisen wasn't about to let them off that easy. Oh no, he was herding them—like a twisted farmer guiding his prized cattle straight into the slaughterhouse.

He took his time too, zigzagging through the village, popping up here and there just to give the mutts a good scare. He didn't even need to get close. Just a flash of his smile or a little tap on the shoulder, and they were practically wetting themselves, running in circles like idiots.

Finally, he nudged them toward the shattered monument, where the entrance to the underground bunker yawned open like the maw of some dark, hellish beast.

The dogs, in their infinite wisdom, thought they'd stumbled upon a hidden treasure.

Except... they couldn't see a damn thing inside. They all just stood there, huddled together, peering into the pitch-black abyss like they were contemplating whether it was worth the leap.

At the back of the pack, the dogs could hear Kaisen's manic giggles echoing across the battlefield like the soundtrack to their worst nightmare.

The dude was a straight-up lunatic, dancing around, grinning like he'd just won the lottery while the world burned around him.

It was enough to make any grown man—or in this case, grown dog—question their life choices.

"Jump! He's getting closer!" one of the dogs barked, wide-eyed and twitchy.

"Are you out of your damn mind? I don't even know what's down there!" another growled, peering over the edge of the abyss like it was about to swallow his soul.

"I swear I can hear him! His crazy ass is right behind us! JUMP, you dumbasses!"

Kaisen, of course, was loving every second of it.

He took his sweet time, deliberately stomping his boots louder just to mess with them, watching as these hulking beasts shoved and jostled each other like panicked toddlers trying to squeeze through the world's tiniest doorway.

And then, from the darkness below, came a yelp. A small, terrified yelp.

A kid's voice, unmistakably feline. A little cat kid had spotted the towering dogs looming over the entrance like they were ready to devour anything that moved.

The magic that shrouded the bunker made the drop look like an endless pit—a black hole to nowhere—but the folks inside? They had a front-row seat to this disaster.

They could see the dogs, and the dogs could hear the kid, and for a brief, beautiful moment, it was chaos in stereo.

A large dog had fallen straight through the rock, smashing the ceiling of the bunker with all the grace of a drunk bouncer crashing through a glass table earlier.

The civilians below were frozen, of course, staring up at the gaping hole where the dog's behemoth body came crashing through.

More than 25 dogs peered down from the broken ceiling like a pack of hungry wolves eyeballing a buffet. The tension was thick, like that awkward silence when someone tells an offensive joke at a family dinner.

"Shhh! Shut the hell up, Barney!"

Hissed a panicked father, slapping his hand over his kid's mouth, the same kid who had yelped loud enough to bring the entire circus to town. The poor guy's eyes were wide with fear, and he was backing up like he was about to get tagged in a horror movie.

The problem with this damn bunker? Small. Stupidly small. It was built like a panic room on a budget—meant to withstand heavy magic blasts and all kinds of physical assaults.

But guess what? It was also cramped as hell, like trying to hide a family of six in a closet while a killer roams the house. Sure, it was sturdy, but there wasn't exactly much space to maneuver when a dead dog drops in uninvited.

Everyone huddled together, scooting away from the dead dog in the middle of the room, but there wasn't much room to go.

The bunker was tight for a reason—long bunkers meant more ways in, but short bunkers? They were built to withstand anything except, well, an 800-pound beast crashing through the roof.

And if something—or someone—was strong enough to break through that monument and tear the bunker apart, well, you might as well kiss your ass goodbye.

Because, at that point, no amount of sturdy walls was going to save you.

"Did ya hear that, boys? Sounds like a bunch of scared little mice squeaking down there!" one dog hollered, leaning over the edge, his eyes gleaming with that special kind of psychotic joy that only came when someone knew they were about to cause serious chaos.

"Should we go down?" asked another dog, his tail wagging like he just found a bone, completely ignoring the fact that the bone might be covered in someone's blood.

"Hell yeah! What else are we gonna do? Might as well have a feast before that lunatic human finds us. Better die with a belly full of fresh meat than get cut down like a bunch of losers."

The rest of the pack exchanged eager nods, like a bunch of frat boys about to crash a house party.

Without hesitation, they started leaping into the drop one by one, landing like furry missiles onto the unfortunate piggy dog who had already been flattened into a pancake.

Luckily for them, none of these mutts weighed in at 800 kilos, so their landing wasn't nearly as tragic—more like hopping down from a bar stool after a few too many drinks.

The bunker exploded into chaos as the cats, eyes wide with terror, scrambled back.

The sound of claws on stone filled the air as they pressed themselves against the walls, their faces a mask of pure horror.

Screams echoed through the tight space, bouncing off the walls as the dogs strutted in like they owned the place, sniffing the air and grinning like they'd just walked into a buffet.

"Dogs, here... more of them are coming. We're trapped!"

Amother thought frantically, clutching her children so tight they might as well have been stuffed toys.

Every cat around her had the same look of sheer panic plastered on their faces, their legs turning into jelly, ears drooping like sad little flags in defeat.

These weren't warriors—they were just regular folks. Sure, they had that whole beast strength and agility thing going on, but without proper training, they were about as useful as a hammer made of wet bread. Their bodies betrayed them, stomachs twisting, knees giving out.

Some were already sinking to the floor, trembling like leaves in the wind, while the dogs stared them down with hungry eyes.

The dogs, now fully landed and grinning like they just found the dessert table at an all-you-can-eat buffet, took in the scene of pure terror with a sinister delight.

"Well, well, what do we have here? Looks like dinner's served early, boys! Whether it's death or freedom, we're feasting today!"

Snarled one of the bigger dogs, stepping forward like he owned the joint.

His gaze locked onto a small, trembling kid, and without a second thought, he raised his massive clawed hand.

His nails, sharp enough to make a butcher jealous, glinted in the dim light as he reached for the kid, licking his lips in anticipation.

But just as his claws were about to close in, BAM!—out of nowhere, like some last-minute, over-the-top hero entrance, someone dropped from the sky and landed between the dog and the kid with the grace of a goddamn action star.

The dog's hand froze mid-air, and he blinked in confusion, taken aback by this sudden plot twist.

The newcomer stood tall, backlit like the climax of a cheap movie, and you could almost hear the imaginary soundtrack blaring in the background.

The dogs and cats alike stared, slack-jawed, as if they couldn't decide whether they should cheer or just try to survive another minute.

"Stop this nonsense, you fucking idiots!"

Avoice boomed from the entrance, cutting through the tension like a hot knife through butter.

"Oh no..."

Muttered one of the dogs, while every single cat in the bunker turned towards the entrance with faces that lit up like someone just told them rent was canceled for the month.

"It's... it's Roland!"

Gasped one of the old men, practically shaking with excitement.

Yeah, it was that Roland—the deadbeat dad and husband who could barely manage to keep his house in order but somehow always showed up at just the right moment when shit was really hitting the fan.

At home? Useless. But out here? For the people of this village, Roland was the real deal—the guy who'd stroll into danger like he was going out for groceries.

Sure, he had all the charisma of a wet mop when it came to his family, but on the battlefield? Dude was legendary.

Do the dogs know about this guy? Oh, they knew him, alright.

Roland didn't even flinch. He was up against twenty-five fully grown, pissed-off dog warriors. A fight like this?

Absolute suicide. But the thing is, Roland wasn't famous because of brute strength—nope, not at all. His real power was something else.

He was a genius at setting traps and turning the battlefield into a living nightmare for anyone who crossed him. The dude had more tricks up his sleeve than a sketchy magician at a cheap casino.

With a casual neck crack, he squared up. No speeches, no bravado. He just raised his hand and did the most insulting thing he could possibly do—he beckoned the dogs. Like, come at me, daring them to bring it.

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