The Quest Is Simply To NTR All The Heroes

"What the fuck is a human doing sticking his nose in beast-kin business? Has the cat tribe fallen so low they need a human's help now?!"

The main dog barked out, clutching his belly as he and his goons burst into hysterical laughter.

"Ha ha ha! Hear that, boys? Other tribes are gonna piss themselves when they hear about this! Especially the other cat tribes! Ha ha ha!"

The idiot hadn't even realized who he was dealing with. Kaisen just stood there, looking utterly bored as the pack of overgrown mutts howled like they'd just heard the best joke of the century.

"Yeah, for that to happen, you guys actually need to leave here... alive."

Kaisen said with such deadpan indifference, it wiped the smirks off their faces faster than a slap across the snout.

The main dog's ears perked up, his face contorting in rage.

"You dare threaten me?! Us?!"

He bellowed, all growls and fang-bearing like he thought he was in a cheap werewolf movie.

Kaisen shrugged, barely giving a fuck.

"Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not. Whatcha gonna do about it?"

That sent the dog into an even bigger frenzy, his yellow teeth flashing as he snarled like he was trying to audition for a pet shampoo commercial.

"Human... you'll regret this!"

He spat, and his pack followed suit, like a chorus of pissed-off hyenas.

Kaisen yawned, making a show of it, stretching his arms like he had better places to be.

"Whatever. Get lost already, mutt. I've got better shit to do than stand here listening to your yapping."

The dog's eyes flared with fury as he gripped the handle of his sword tighter, trembling with the sheer force of his frustration.

"Insolence! I'll have your head for this, human!"

"Yeah, yeah, sure. Go bark up someone else's tree, you flea-ridden mutt. I ain't scared of you."

Kaisen said, waving off the threat like he was dealing with a particularly annoying chihuahua.

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The main dog's face turned beet red, his muscles practically bulging out of his fur as he prepared to launch himself at Kaisen.

But before the slobbering beast could make his move, Kaisen turned to the woman on his hands.

"Run along now, love. This place is about to get a fresh coat of red, and I don't want a pretty lady like you getting your hands dirty. You've got a couple of adorable kids to look after, yeah? Be a good girl and take care of 'em, alright?"

Kaisen flashed her a smile that could probably melt steel, or at least make her reconsider her whole situation.

The mother blushed so hard it was like her cheeks were on fire, nodding frantically as if he'd just given her the secret to immortality.

Kaisen gently set her and the kids down, as if he hadn't just insulted an entire pack of bloodthirsty beasts in front of them.

She scooped her kids up in record time, scrambling to her feet like her life depended on it—because it kind of did.

With one last glance over her shoulder at Kaisen, who stood there like he owned the whole damn scene, she bolted.

As soon as she was gone, the pack of dogs wasted no time lunging at him. But Kaisen? He didn't even flinch.

In a matter of seconds—seconds—he moved through the six snarling mutts like he was in some kind of graceful, high-stakes dance-off.

One moment they were all teeth and claws, the next they were stumbling, slack-jawed, as if they'd just been hit by an invisible truck. All Kaisen did was tap each one gently on the nape, like he was swatting away a fly, and yet none of the dogs even saw it coming.

By the time they realized they'd been touched, their bodies were already crashing to the ground, limp as ragdolls.

In a single, fluid motion, six bodies hit the dirt like sacks of overripe potatoes—necks twisted, eyes wide open, as dead as yesterday's leftovers.

Kaisen, ever the gentleman, dusted off his hands, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face.

"Now that is what I call a full-body workout."

He quipped, flexing a bit as if anyone was there to admire him.

His gaze wandered over to the underground bunker, cleverly disguised by a rock monument.

Now, did Kaisen know about the bunker's location? Hell yeah. Did the cats have any clue that he knew about it? Not even a little.

So, if by some accident that rock monument got smashed and the bunker got exposed to the invaders, would that be Kaisen's fault? Absolutely not. Nope. Totally not on him. Right? Right.

With that totally innocent thought in mind, Kaisen casually sauntered over to the nearest dog, picked the furry brute up like he weighed less than a sack of laundry, and yeeted him through the air like he was practicing for the Olympics.

Now, you'd think he'd just toss the dog anywhere, but nope—he sent that mutt flying directly at the rock monument like it was some kind of target in a carnival game.

The dog crashed into the monument with a satisfying thud, but the damn thing didn't budge. Magic, probably. Or just really well-built.

Either way, Kaisen frowned like he'd just been told his favorite bar was out of booze.

"Stubborn piece of rock," he muttered. "Guess I'll need a bigger idiot to break it."

Of course, Kaisen wasn't the type to let a little thing like an unbreakable rock monument get in the way of his fun.

Nope, he had a whole village of meathead dogs to play with, and plenty more to yeet at that stubborn hunk of stone.

Like he was inventing the world's stupidest sport, he casually tossed the beasts one by one, each thud making the monument wobble just a little more.

He could practically hear the rock groaning, like even it knew it was living on borrowed time.

After what felt like ten long minutes of playing fetch with actual dogs, Kaisen finally had an epiphany: these dumb brutes were as useful as a screen door on a submarine.

Time to step it up.

He slyly began closing the gap between himself and the monument, all while pretending to fight off the remaining mutts. Each "missed" punch just happened to slam into the stone, causing little cracks to spider-web across its surface.

"Oops," he muttered with a smirk, throwing a "wild" elbow at the monument.

Crack!

Another chip fell off. Slowly but surely, that rock was crumbling under his oh-so-innocent assault, and Kaisen was grinning like a kid smashing piñatas for candy.

As the cracks spread and his devilish plan inched closer to fruition, Kaisen started to retreat, still fending off the dogs but with one eye on the soon-to-be-exploded monument.

"Run away, you bunch of furballs! You're just holding me back!"

Kaisen barked at the group of wide-eyed cat warriors, who clearly thought they were doing something heroic by trying to help him.

Human or not, he was defending their village, so they thought they could assist their "new savior."

But all they were really doing was slowing down his master plan, like a bunch of toddlers trying to help in a warzone.

The cats hesitated, their pride taking a hit, but the survival of their village was more important than their fragile egos.

With a reluctant bow, they dashed off. Kaisen waved them off, rolling his eyes.

If he really wanted to, he could waltz through these mutts and mop the floor with them, turning the battlefield into a bloody dance floor.

But nah—he didn't need the extra paws sniffing around his masterpiece. He needed to stage the perfect catastrophe, and those fluffy idiots might screw it all up.

After chucking dogs around like oversized chew toys for a few more minutes, Kaisen finally saw his chance.

A behemoth of a dog lumbered into view—less like a canine and more like an 800kg brick of pure, slobbering meat. This beast looked like it should've been wallowing in mud somewhere, not trying to fight a battle.

"Finally, a real heavyweight."

Kaisen muttered, grinning. Without breaking a sweat, he grabbed the massive creature with one hand, hoisting it up like it was nothing.

The other dogs stared in disbelief, jaws practically on the ground. Kaisen, however, was loving every second of it.

With a mighty swing, he hurled the massive brute straight at the monument, like a deranged baseball player going for a home run.

BAM!

The tank-dog slammed into the rock with a bone-rattling crash, and finally, the damn thing gave in.

Cracks spidered up the monument's surface, chunks of rock tumbling down, until the whole thing crumbled into a glorious, dusty mess.

And, of course, the monument didn't just crack—it wobbled like a drunk uncle at a wedding, then crumbled spectacularly, as if the whole thing was just waiting for the chance to make a mess.

The ground beneath it shattered too, because apparently physics was on Kaisen's side today. The beast he'd launched had done its job, smashing through the concrete like a wrecking ball with fur.

The poor dog didn't fare as well, though. It plummeted a solid four meters, meeting the ground with a sickening splat.

The result? It looked like someone dropped a watermelon off a skyscraper—blood, guts, and god knows what else splattered everywhere.

But what really caught Kaisen's attention was the sound that followed. Screams—loud, panicked, terrified screams. Music to his ears.

Kaisen's grin spread wider, a mix of satisfaction and something a little more wicked.

"Ah, the sweet sound of gratitude."

He mused, as if these shrieks were the village's way of throwing him a parade.

Were they scared for their lives? Sure. Were they actually going to die? Hell no—not on his watch. He wasn't that careless. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to milk this for all it was worth.

With a casual flick of his wrist, Kaisen disappeared from the scene, reappearing a hundred meters away like it was the easiest thing in the world.

The plan was moving forward, and now it was time for the next act in his little drama.

"Time to light up this circus."

He muttered, cracking his neck. Whatever came next, it was going to be fun as hell.