Catgirls And Dungeons (Yuri, Gender bender)

Second by second, those bastards creep closer. Their heavy boots scrape against the ground, the sound dragging through the air like a blade across stone. Their laughter is low, guttural, seeping with malice, and their grins stretch wide, baring yellowed teeth.

They're predators. And I'm the prey.

I glance around frantically, my heart pounding like a drumbeat of panic, but there's nothing. No escape. No miracle waiting to save me.

Just me.

Just them.

Still…

I stand. My legs feel like lead, threatening to buckle beneath me, but I force them to stay firm. My grip on the messer sword is slick with sweat, my knuckles trembling so violently that the blade wavers.

But I don't drop it. I can't.

Even though I'm trembling.

Even though my heart pounds so wildly it feels like it might burst.

Even though a suffocating darkness claws at the edges of my mind, whispering that it's already over…

I refuse to let go.

Because I know what I must do.

I have to fight.

Yes. I will fight.

The thought is almost laughable—almost.

After all, what chance do I have?

I'm outnumbered. I'm outmatched.

I have neither the physical strength nor the magic to even do anything.

But I refuse to crumble.

I'll fight, even if it's futile. Even if the only thing I achieve is a fleeting sense of defiance before the end.

Because I won't let them take me.

Not my body. Not my dignity. Not my soul.

I will not let them drag me into their pit of depravity!

If I can and get lucky, I'll cut down one. Maybe two, the more the better.

If I fail, I'll leave them with scars, or even just a tiny scratch is fine.

I'll make them bleed some blood. I'll make them remember me!

And then, when the inevitable comes, when the filthy hands of fate close around my throat, I'll deny them their prize.

I'll turn this blade inward and spill my own blood before they lay a single hand on me.

I'll ruin myself before they can!

Because death doesn't scare me.

Not anymore.

Not when I've already crossed that line once.

And just like that, the thought is cold, a knife of clarity slicing through the haze of fear. My trembling ceases for a second. My breaths, shallow and ragged, slow just enough for me to think.

But even as that calm takes hold, my heart clenches.

Eris…

What will happen to her when I'm gone?

The men's leers and laughter feel distant as my chest tightens with dread. My mind conjures horrors I can't unsee. They will lay their dirty hands on her, they will tear her apart, piece by fragile piece…

Rage floods my veins like venom.

I bite down hard on my lip until I taste blood, forcing the images away.

I don't know what I can do, because I'm more than useless.

However, until my final breath, I will do whatever it takes to protect her. It may not make any difference, but at least I'll know I did everything I could.

After all, she's done so much for me.

She saved me from the dungeon, gave me shelter, food, and kindness.

She didn't have to. She owed me nothing. And yet, she did it anyway.

She's the nicest person I've ever met.

The time I had with her was short. Too short.

I wanted more. I wanted to stay by her side longer, to hold her hand, to laugh and share meals together. To see what's beyond these dungeon walls, to explore the unknown with her by my side.

But it seems that dream will remain just that—a dream.

Even so, I'm grateful.

Meeting her, knowing her, was enough.

I'll give her one last gift. My life for hers.

Thus, I tighten my grip on the sword, the edge gleaming like the sword's responding to my blazing emotions. The laughter grows louder, the men closer, their shadows towering over me.

And so, with a feral scream, raw and unrestrained, I hurl my voice into the void:

"COME!!! GET ME IF YOU CAN, YOU PIECES OF SHIT!!!"

The force of my voice echoes violently, a primal cry that drowns their laughter for a fleeting moment.

Ah… That felt good!

That felt right!

This is what it means to stand your ground. To spit in the face of death!!!

HELL YEAH!

I drag the last remnants of mana from my core, forcing it to activates. As expected, the burning pain erupts in my chest, so sharp it nearly drives me to my knees. My vision darkens at the edges, and my body screams in protest.

But I don't care.

Let it hurt. Let it tear me apart!

This is my final stand. My final moment!!!

And just then, something changes.

The men freeze mid-step. Their movements halt so suddenly it's as if they've hit an invisible wall.

I blink, confused.

They all take a few hesitant steps back, their confident smirks melting away. Their expressions twist, morphing from gleeful malice into something I never expected to see: confusion… and fear.

What?

Fear?

I swallow hard, my heart pounding, but not from panic this time.

Did my earlier war cry really strike such terror into their hearts?

Am I that intimidating?

Hell yeah!

My lips curl into a smirk. I straighten, emboldened, and shout, my voice cutting through the still air like a blade.

"What's the matter? Afraid of a little kitty? COME ON, THEN! COME AND GET ME IF YOU DARE, YOU COWARDS!"

The words roar out of me, raw and furious, vibrating in my chest like the growl of a cornered beast.

And then—

They stumble again, their retreat more pronounced this time. Their eyes flicker with something primal, their pale faces contorted in disbelief.

"I-I… impossible!" the bearded one stammers, his voice quaking like dry leaves in the wind. "H-how can you…? W-what are you?!"

Huh?

What am I?

I'm just a catgirl, that's all! A catgirl who refuses to be taken!

Well, I don't understand what's happening.

But hope surges in my chest, wild and electric.

Maybe I've got this. Maybe my display of sheer badassery is working!

Should I double down? Make an even scarier face? Bare my pointy fang? Maybe hiss a little louder for dramatic effect?

But before I can act, the burly man snaps out of his daze and roars like a wounded animal.

"G-GET HER! PATRICK!!!"

And at his command, Patrick—the slender, wiry guy charges straight for me with a blood-curdling roar.

"RAAAAAAAGGHHH!!!"

He's coming!

He's attacking!

Fuck!

I thought they were scared! Why the hell is this guy charging me?!

I grit my teeth, shifting my stance as my grip tightens on the sword.

Fine.

If this bastard wants a fight, I'll give him one he won't forget!

Raising my blade, I brace for impact, every muscle in my body taut like a drawn bowstring.

This is it.

One strike.

I just need one good strike!

But then—

WHOOOOOSH!

Something tears through the air behind me, faster than my eyes can follow. It's a blur of pure black, slicing through the dim light like a shadow.

Before I can even blink, it slams into Patrick with an earsplitting… PLOOSH!

And his head—his entire head—splits open in half!!!

Blood sprays in a violent arc, painting the ground in a grotesque splash of crimson. His body collapses like a puppet with its strings severed, hitting the dirt with a wet, lifeless thud.

In a blink, it's over.

He's dead.

Just like that.

Silence.

The remaining men stumble back, terror written across their faces. Their bravado is gone, replaced by wide, trembling eyes and quivering lips.

I stare at Patrick's lifeless body, my breath caught in my throat.

What?!

What just happened?

What the heck was that black thing?

My heart races as I whirl around, desperate to find the source.

And then—

BA-DUMP!

My chest tightens. My eyes widen.

Relief, awe, and sheer disbelief collide within me.

"ERIS!!!"

It's her.

She's awake!

And she looks furious!

FURIOUSLY COOL!

And now, Eris' glowing eyes lock onto the men, blazing with a fierce intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. Her lips curl into a snarl, baring sharp fangs that glisten under the dim light. And the aura around her…

It's suffocating. It's thick, it's dark!!!

It churns like a storm on the verge of breaking, a tangible pressure that presses against my chest and steals the breath from my lungs.

"You bastards," she growls, her voice low, rasping, and deadly cool. "I'll kill you all…"

She's saying that like she's giving out death sentences.

And then, I can only watch in stunned silence as she raises one hand to her side. The air around her shimmers and warps, as though reality itself bends in her presence.

Black mana begins to gather at her fingertips, swirling like a vortex. It twists and churns, condensing with an ominous hum.

Slowly, it takes shape.

The shadows solidify, coalescing into a sleek, pitch-black sword.