The Quest Is Simply To NTR All The Heroes

Ronali and her entire family had been dragged into the Elder Hall faster than you could say "Luke's little worm."

Rodalina was a nervous wreck; she almost dropped the tea tray when the tribe guards came knocking.

Roland had to bail on his work shift early after getting the summons.

Now, the whole family stood in front of the Six Elders of the clan, looking like they were about to get grounded for eternity.

Behind the Elders stood the guards and some assorted family members, like they were extras in a drama.

Off to the side was Luke, grinning like he'd just won the village lottery, but still with a "my ass still hurts" expression on his face. He was practically gloating, thinking he was minutes away from claiming Ronali as his bride.

Sure, he'd been humiliated in public, but in his mind, this was a win-win.

"It's one thing to throw shade, but to outright humiliate another beastkin? And not just any beastkin, but one of the next Elders of this tribe? What were you thinking, Ronali?!"

Elder Lenon bellowed, veins bulging out of his neck like he was auditioning for a role inAngry Old Men: The Musical.

Elder Lenon bellowed, veins bulging out of his neck like he was auditioning for a role in

Angry Old Men: The Musical.

Elder Lenon was Luke's grandfather, a fact that didn't exactly fill Rodalina with joy.

He had the kind of hair that couldn't decide if it wanted to be brown or grey, so it went with both just to mess with people.

He was gripping a long cane, supposedly for walking, but he looked like he was itching to use it to whack someone upside the head.

Honestly, for a guy who looked like he was one bad sneeze away from meeting his ancestors, he was in pretty good shape.

"Elder Lenon, seriously? You dragged Roland here for this petty shit? We've got the Dog Tribe sniffing around like horny pups ready to pounce, and you're wasting our time because your 'prodigy' got his ass handed to him by a girl half his size?"

Elder Nora, her snowy white hair and tail giving her the look of a wise old fox, raised an eyebrow. Her voice dripped with enough sarcasm to drown a small village.

"Elder Nora, watch your tone," Lenon snapped, his face turning an unflattering shade of beetroot. "My grandson was humiliated in front of everyone. She had no right to go that low."

"Oh, please. People are saying they caught a glimpse of a 'little worm.' I'm sure that wasn't your grandson's, right? Unless… it was? Lenon, do you know anything about that?"

Chimed in another elder named Salas, a sly grin spreading across his face.

The room erupted into a chorus of chuckles, snickers, and barely-stifled laughter. Everyone except Lenon and Luke, that is.

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Lenon looked like he was ready to have a stroke, and Luke's face was so red it was a miracle his head didn't explode right there.

The poor guy stood stiff as a plank, eyes shooting daggers at Ronali and Rony—the duo who'd turned his life into a public circus.

"Enough!" Lenon barked, his voice booming over the laughter.

"I will not hear any more of this bullshit! What Ronali and Rony did was unforgivable. We're here to discuss their punishment, not to stand around cracking jokes!" He shot a quick, sneaky glance at Luke, a smirk tugging at his lips like he'd already set up the perfect trap.

Ronali caught that look and let out a tired sigh. She knew the game and the players all too well. The dice had already been rolled, and the outcome was as clear as day.

There'd be no fair trial, no justice, just a rigged game where she was the one meant to lose. Resigned to her fate, she didn't even bother to put up a fight.

Ronali stole a glance at her father, and it was all she could do not to roll her eyes. The man was hunched over, staring at the floor as if it held the secrets of the universe, hands clasped together like he'd just been caught stealing cookies from the communal jar.

To any outsider, he looked like a man who'd just been found guilty of something serious.

But Ronali knew better: this was the posture of a man so chained to tribal customs that he'd probably sell his own daughter to a creep like Luke just to keep his reputation squeaky clean.

'Why the hell am I thinking about that pervert now... What is wrong with me?'

Ronali's mind wandered, not to Luke—who was more worm than man—but to Kaisen. She didn't have a thing for the guy or anything.

No, it was more like… admiration. Yeah, admiration, that was it. Kaisen was everything she secretly wished she could be.

He was a loose cannon, a guy who danced to his own damn tune while the rest of them were stuck playing along to the tribe's boring old symphony.

No societal pressure, no commitments, just a free spirit waltzing into their village like he owned the place.

And the hunting-for-humans scare? Kaisen didn't give two shits. He'd strolled in during peak hysteria like he was out for a Sunday picnic.

He had balls, and Ronali respected that. Hell, she wished she had a fraction of that courage.

Instead, she was stuck playing the good daughter, the obedient puppet, forever trying to please a father who would sooner marry her off to the village idiot if it meant saving face.

'I suppose this is the fate that awaits me.'

She thought, the words as bitter as the sour wine the elders liked to drink.

She sighed, a long, dramatic exhale that was the closest thing to rebellion she could manage in the moment.

"But, Elder Lenon, Luke is the one who attacked us first! He punched me so hard I had to drag my ass to the healer. Everyone saw it! What punishment are you going to give him, huh?"

Rony spat out, his voice dripping with righteous anger, earning a surprised furrow from Ronali, who looked like she'd just witnessed a cat bark.

"Shut it!"

Roland's voice boomed through the Elder Hall, cutting through his son's defiance like a knife through butter. It was the first time he'd opened his mouth since entering, and the room fell silent.

"Let him be, Roland," Elder Lenon interjected smoothly, holding up a hand as if calming a wild animal.

"I know you're a proud man, a family man. You hold our kin and customs dear. But let the boy speak his mind. Isn't that how we resolve things around here?

And it seems like little Rodalina might appreciate hearing this too, don't you think?"

Lenon's voice was soft, but his eyes shot a filthy look toward Rodalina, who immediately dropped her gaze, trembling as if she'd just been doused in ice water.

"Yes, tell us, Rony," Elder Lenon continued, turning his attention back to the boy. "Who threw the first punch?"

His question was smooth and unhurried, like a spider spinning its web. Luke's face twisted into a grin, confident as ever. Of course, it had been Rony who initiated the fight. He'd kicked Luke first, sparking the brawl.

"..."

Rony's lips clamped shut, and he stared at the floor as if he could find a magic portal to escape through.

"What? Cat got your tongue? Silence speaks volumes, little Rony. It's clear what happened in the street.

Little Rony here struck Luke first, and Luke, naturally, defended himself. So what should we do with a boy who can't control his temper, hmm?"

Elder Lenon taunted.

"That isn't ho—"

"Silence, you disgrace!"

Slap!

Rony barely got a word out before his father shut him down with a slap to the back of his head that echoed like a whip crack.

His mother and sister winced, eyes squeezed shut, as if the sheer force of the slap might knock out their collective dignity.

Rony stared at the floor, tears welling up, not just from the sting of the slap but from the shame he felt bubbling up like a bad case of indigestion.

It wasn't just that he was being wrongly accused—it was the fact that his screw-up was dragging the family name through the mud.

His father, once a man of pride and reputation, was now on the verge of being the village laughingstock because his son couldn't keep his temper in check.

Rony, the seven year old over-thinker, was spiraling into a pit of despair, envisioning the endless mockery that awaited them at every village gathering.

Meanwhile, Luke was grinning like a cat who got the cream, despite his earlier misadventures.

Sure, he'd taken a kick to the leg, and yes, his balls had been publicly squashed by his supposed future wife, but damn it, he was going to win this in the end—even if he had no idea how he'd ended up humiliated in front of everyone in the first place.

"Respected Elders of this sacred village..."

Roland's voice broke through Rony's spiraling thoughts, slow and deliberate.

Rony's eyes widened in horror as he watched his father, a proud man who had never bowed to anyone, start to sink to his knees.

Both Ronali and Rony looked like they'd been punched in the stomach.

Roland didn't just kneel; he dropped forward, forehead kissing the dirt in a full-on kowtow, groveling like a dog.

"My children are foolish, brainless! They're at that age, you know, when all the blood goes south and they forget how to think! As a father, I beg of you, please, show mercy. Spare my children…"

Rony felt like his world had shattered. Watching his father, the man he'd always seen as invincible, groveling in the dirt because of him.

This wasn't just embarrassing; it was downright soul-crushing. The kind of scene that gets burned into your memory forever, making you wake up in a cold sweat years later.

"He he he. We are not dogs to beg, Roland. We are proud cat kins. But that doesn't mean we can let your brats off with just a slap on the wrist.

The villagers saw everything, and if we don't dish out some punishment, we'll look softer than a newborn kitten. So, what can we do here, hmm?"

Elder Lenon said, stroking his long beard, savoring every bit of Roland's humiliation like it was a fine wine. Roland stayed silent, glued to the floor in shame, as if hoping the earth would open up and swallow him whole.

Elder Lenon's gaze shifted back to Rodalina, who kept her eyes firmly fixed on the ground, avoiding his gaze like it was poison. There was a hungry glint in his eyes, like a cat that had spotted its next meal.

"What are you getting at, Elder?"

Elder Nora asked, eyebrows furrowing in suspicion.

"A proposition."

Elder Lenon purred, practically licking his lips. Ronali shut her eyes, feeling her fate closing in like a cage made of barbed wire.

"And what would that be?"

"A marriage proposal between Roland's daughter and my prodigal grandson—"

Lenon started, clearly relishing every word, like he was already hearing wedding bells and the clinking of dowry gold.

But before Lenon could finish sealing Ronali's fate, the doors to the Elder Hall burst open with a loud bang, and a commotion followed like a rowdy parade.

Everyone turned, and there he was—a handsome young man, standing in the doorway with a grin that could charm the pants off anyone, even the most crotchety elder.

"Boy, oh boy, am I late to the party?"

He boomed, his voice dripping with cocky bravado.

Ronali's eyes snapped open at the familiar voice. Her heart skipped a beat, and for the first time in what felt like hours, hope flickered in her chest.