Before Raven could fully process the implications of his system interface, the tent flap exploded inward with a violent crash.
A mountain of muscle and fury barreled through the entrance, his massive frame filling the space like a living siege engine.
The man stood nearly seven feet tall, his body a testament to raw physical power that made even seasoned knights look like children.
Bulging muscles strained against his battle-worn leather armor, veins standing out like cables beneath bronzed skin.
His face was carved from granite—a square jaw, piercing blue eyes, and a permanent scowl that spoke of countless battles won through pure brutality.
Before Raven could react, iron fingers wrapped around his throat and lifted him clean off the ground.
The grip was so powerful it felt like a steel vice crushing his windpipe.
"You fucking bastard," the giant snarled, his voice like grinding stone.
"Did you just lay your hands on a married woman?! And at that, Nanny of—"
Raven's feet dangled helplessly as he stared into those furious blue eyes.
Even through his choking gasps, his strategic mind identified his attacker—Gareth Ironhold, the Hero Party's tank and possessor of the purest Titan bloodline seen in three centuries.
His stats were astronomical—Level 120.
The only weakness in his armor was his intelligence, which barely scraped a measly 6 points out of a possible 10.
In short, a perfect muscle-brained moron with the power to level mountains.
"You... you're yelling as if I fucked your mother," Raven managed to wheeze out through his constricted throat, his natural sarcasm refusing to die even when facing imminent strangulation.
Gareth's eyes blazed with killing intent.
"You are dead."
The Titan hero's free hand began to glow with golden energy, preparing to deliver a punch that would turn Raven's head into red mist.
But before he could strike, a small figure darted forward and grabbed his massive wrist.
"Please stop, Master Gareth!" came a melodic voice, tinged with desperation.
"You cannot bloody your hands on weak garbage like him."
"Leave this man now."
The newcomer was a cat-kin woman, standing barely five feet tall with a petite frame that looked almost childlike next to Gareth's bulk.
Her most striking features were the fluffy black cat ears atop her head and the long tail swishing anxiously behind her.
Her body was a tight little fuck package, with small tits that poked out firm and perky against her black bodysuit, nipples already hardening into stiff peaks that strained the fabric like they were begging to be sucked raw.
Her ass was a plump, juicy handful, the kind that jiggled just right when slapped, squeezed tight by her pants that hugged every curve of her meaty cheeks and the deep crack between them.
Down below, her pussy mound bulged subtly against the material, hinting at fat lips and a slick slit that leaked arousal even now, while her thighs were slim but toned, perfect for wrapping around a cock and squeezing the cum out.
Her face was delicately beautiful, with large amber eyes, a small button nose, and soft pink lips.
Black hair fell in waves around her shoulders, perfectly framing her feminine features.
She looked like an exotic doll come to life.
Gareth glanced down at the cat-woman, his rage cooling slightly at her intervention.
With a disgusted grunt, he released Raven, who dropped to the ground like a sack of grain.
"You better not interrupt me next time, Nyra," Gareth growled, though his tone was noticeably gentler when addressing the cat-kin.
Raven coughed violently, one hand clutching his bruised throat as he struggled to catch his breath.
Gareth loomed over him, his shadow blocking out the tent's lamplight.
"This isn't your world where you were some kind of popular guy in college," the Titan hero sneered.
"Remember this, you city fucker."
"If you ever dare to get close to Astasia again, I will kill you."
With that promise hanging in the air like an executioner's blade, Gareth turned and stormed out of the tent, leaving destruction in his wake.
The wooden tent posts creaked ominously from where his massive frame had brushed against them.
Nyra bowed deeply in the direction Gareth had departed, her cat ears flattening submissively against her head.
Only after he was completely gone did she turn her attention to Raven, who was still coughing and gasping on the ground.
"Are you alright?" she asked softly, kneeling beside him.
Her small hands moved to his neck, fingers gently probing for serious damage with practiced skill.
Raven inhaled shakily, looking up at the cat-woman's concerned face.
"Kind of," he croaked.
"Did you get the information?"
Nyra nodded and reached into a hidden pocket of her bodysuit, producing a folded piece of parchment.
"Here."
Raven took the document with trembling hands and unfolded it carefully.
As his eyes scanned the contents, his expression shifted from pain to disbelief to dark amusement.
The tactical plans detailed exactly what he'd predicted—the other heroes had modified his carefully crafted strategy, splitting their forces to enter the Demon King's palace from multiple directions instead of the single coordinated assault he'd recommended.
'Those arrogant fools,' he thought, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips.
Instead of overwhelming a single demon general with their combined might, they were planning to face each of the demon commanders separately.
It was suicide dressed up as heroic individualism.
"What happened, sir?" Nyra asked, noting his expression.
"Nothing," Raven replied, slowly standing with her support.
Her small hands were surprisingly strong as they helped stabilize him.
"I was just thinking those fools really did what I thought they would."
He knew they were going to die.
Each hero, no matter how powerful their bloodline or impressive their stats, would be slaughtered one by one as they faced demon generals alone.
And he would be left to fend for himself in the aftermath, assuming he even survived the initial assault.
The irony wasn't lost on him—his betrayal to the demons might actually save his life when his "allies" got themselves killed through sheer stupidity.
Raven looked down at Nyra, who was blinking up at him with those large amber eyes.
Without warning, he stretched out his hand and began gently rubbing her soft cat ears between his fingers.
"Mmph!" Nyra muffled a small sound of surprise, her cheeks flushing pink as her ears twitched under his touch.
Cat-kin ears were notoriously sensitive, and his caress sent pleasant shivers down her spine.
"You know what this means, don't you?" Raven said quietly, his voice taking on a darker edge.
His hand moved from her ears to her back, slowly guiding her toward the strategy table.
"Sir... must we have it now?" Nyra whispered, though she didn't resist as he bent her forward against the wooden surface.
Her tail swished nervously as she found herself in the same position where Nanny had been fucked just minutes earlier.
"Are you forgetting who your real master is?" Raven's voice was low and commanding as he positioned himself behind her petite form.
"It's..." The cat-woman tried to push back against him, but he easily captured both her wrists in one hand like handles, pinning them against the small of her back.
"...you, Sir."