It had been two months since we settled here in Pawradigm Peaks. Two long, grueling months filled with debates, chaos, and near-murder over what to name the place. Personally, I was rooting for Felidae Reach—a strong, regal name, if you ask me. But no. Chunky championed Clawhold Keep because he thought it sounded “tough.” Butler pushed for Whiskerhaven because it sounded “cozy.” And then there was Lucky with her obnoxiously long-winded suggestion: Paw-Roar-Dine Peaks.
Lucky, being the conniving manipulator she was, promised to sing once a week if her name won. The cats, of course, sold out faster than a fish market on a feast day. Idiots. After her victory, she “revised” the name to Pawradigm Peaks because apparently, the original was just a placeholder for her “artistic vision.” She even tried to explain the word “paradigm” to everyone. Half the cats dozed off. The other half ran away or nodded along for the sake of those weekly performances. I swear, Lucky was born to be a politician.
So, how was Pawradigm Peaks—“Paw” for short—shaping up? Not bad, actually. At least, not for a place that started as a wild patch of land. I managed to construct two open towers at the entrance of our budding village. They were crude, sure, but they did their job. Three other towers were hidden deeper inside the settlement, serving as vantage points and storage for emergency supplies. The surrounding mountains provided natural defense, and the valley served as the only viable entrance. It was a tactician’s dream, really.
The cats? Well, they were... trying. Some were learning engineering and deriving knowledge through the magical blueprints I shared, though most were still stuck in the trial-and-error phase. The biggest success story so far was the treehouses. They were a massive hit. The moment a cat claimed a tree, they built a home faster than you could say “catnip.” A few ambitious ones even tried planting their own trees or scavenging from the forest.
The funniest disaster? That would be Chunky. A month ago, he won a Lumberjack Skill Book from me during a betting game when he stopped by Paw for resupply. Naturally, he decided to put his newfound skills to the test. He chopped down a tree and built himself a treehouse on one of his off days. A week later, his treehouse toppled over and smashed into Demo’s semi-spherical clay house. I’ll never forget Demo’s scream. Or the look of betrayal on his face.
I sighed, perched on one of the towers, overlooking the budding village. Houses—if you could call them that—dotted the landscape. Some were carved from logs, others built from clay, and a few, like Lucky’s, were fashioned from a mix of leaves and whatever scraps she could charm other cats into donating. We were still very much in the “gather and experiment” phase.
But it wasn’t all bad. The cats were slowly learning. We had food, shelter, and some semblance of order. I had plans to introduce smithing soon, though the idea of cats working with molten metal made me nervous. For now, I’d settle for progress—however chaotic and ridiculous it might be.
This was Pawradigm Peaks. It was messy, unpredictable, and full of cats who couldn’t tell the difference between a hammer and a rock. But it was home.
I referred to my Kaiser Shop for inspiration.
Kaiser Shop - Daily Inventory
[Current KP: 1,305]
- Blueprint: Catapult Tower(300 KP)
- Skill Book: Blacksmithing Basics(400 KP)
- Feline Armor Set - Light Leather(150 KP)
- Magical Tail Whip(350 KP)
- Blueprint: Underground Storage Bunker(250 KP)
- Skill Book: Advanced Engineering(500 KP)
- Feline Claw Extenders(200 KP)
- Magical Water Purifier(300 KP)
- Blueprint: Suspended Bridge(180 KP)
- Skill Book: Animal Husbandry(250 KP)
The biggest boon I could ask for was the Skill Books. These were split into three categories: technical, magical, and special. I categorized them based on what they could do or suspected what they could do… They were pretty much self-explanatory.
“Sheesh… I hope some awesom Skill Book finally shows up…”
You’d think the magical blueprints that could transfer knowledge were overpowered already, but wait until you heard about these Skill Books. They were like divine artifacts. Open one, and bam—instantaneous knowledge download.
Of course, it wasn’t as miraculous as it sounded. While the knowledge transfer was immediate, it still took time and effort to actualize it. Training and practice were non-negotiable. Take my recent experience with the Engineering Skill Book. Sure, I now knew concepts like planes, cars, cement, and a hundred other things. But could I build them? Ha! No way. Without experimentation and dedicated study, those concepts were just fancy trivia in my brain.
It wasn’t like my Fine Arts degree could help much. Maybe if I drew out blueprints, it would speed things up, but... lack of opposable thumbs really threw a wrench in that idea. So, like the genius I was, I delegated the thinking to other cats. Let them handle the technicalities while I ruled and played king. Mwahahaha~!
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Not that my degree would’ve helped build skyscrapers anyway. Sure, I had the vague idea of slapping some charred painting on the walls, but knowing me, I’d probably set Pawradigm Peaks on fire. Better not risk it.
I looked over the settlement, feeling a little too proud of myself. The boars were running around, snorting and playing like overgrown puppies. The horses were grazing peacefully on the other side. Oh, right—the horses.
I recalled our deal with them. One wanted a comb. Easy. Another wanted human meat. That was... less easy, but we made it work. Some human bandits had tried to settle here a while back, thinking they could push us around. We slaughtered them, obviously. The horse got his human meat, and the bandits got their comeuppance. Win-win.
The deal with the horses was still active, but there were a few loose ends. Two of them had requested armor. That was still pending. I’d get to it... eventually.
I was lost in thought, planning my next steps, when Lucky snuck up on me and pounced.
“Gotcha, Kai!” she said, pinning me down with that mischievous grin of hers. “What are you thinking about?”
“Lucky!” I yelped, wriggling under her paws. “I’m thinking about important leader stuff! You wouldn’t understand!”
“Oh, leader stuff, huh?” she teased, her tail flicking. “You mean lounging around and watching us do all the work?”
I glared at her. “Hey! Delegation is a skill!”
Lucky just laughed and rolled off me, her golden eyes gleaming with amusement. “Sure it is, Your Majesty.”
I grumbled under my breath, but I couldn’t stay mad at her. After all, this kingdom wasn’t going to build itself, and I needed all the help I could get—even if it came with teasing.
Lucky stared at me, her emerald eyes glinting with that teasing light that always made me uneasy. “Why aren’t you building a house yet?” she asked, her tail flicking lazily.
I shrugged, trying to look casual. “I’m fine with living here and stuff.”
“Here and stuff?” she repeated mockingly. Then, with a grin that sent alarm bells ringing in my head, she added, “Let’s go to my place and have sexy time. Mary’s two months pregnant already. Come a week or two, she’ll have a litter of kittens.”
My fur bristled, and I felt a bead of sweat roll down my metaphorical brow. That was... a touchy subject.
I had a vision for this kingdom, a monarchy where my legacy could thrive. Objectively, having children early had its advantages—it secured the line, after all. But emotionally? Complicated didn’t even begin to describe it.
I was still a human inside this feline body. My aesthetics, my sense of attraction, were stubbornly rooted in my human preferences. Sure, I adored cats, practically worshipped them, but that adoration was more about admiration than attraction. Idolization, not... whatever this was.
The thought of getting into some furry sexy action now? My brain might actually implode. I couldn’t do it—not yet, maybe not ever. It was selfish, but I needed time to sort through this mess in my head.
And then there was the bigger picture. If kittens were inevitable—and in a growing community, they definitely were—I needed to introduce some rules. Fatherhood, child support, marriage... these concepts were alien to cats, but if we were going to build a proper society, they had to become part of the norm.
Living with my Cat Mom had taught me just how tough it was for feline mothers to raise a family. Out of her seven kittens, I was the only one who survived. That kind of loss was something I couldn’t let happen here.
Most importantly, though, was marriage. I couldn’t allow polygamy to run rampant in a small, isolated community like this. Inbreeding would become a real risk. For the sake of the future, I had to establish rules—sooner rather than later.
Lucky’s tail brushed against my jaw, soft and deliberate, pulling me out of my thoughts. She was cozying up to me, her purring growing louder as she got closer. And then, with the grace only a cat could manage, she angled her bum in my face.
“Lucky,” I said warningly, my voice cracking.
She let out a soft purr, playful and persistent, before pouncing on me.
I bolted.
“Lucky!” I yelled, running as fast as my legs could carry me.
“I’m gonna come and getcha~!” she sang behind me, her voice full of laughter.
This was my life now. King of cats, ruler of Pawradigm Peaks, future builder of a monarchy—and still running for my life from an overly affectionate Lucky.
“Aaaaah!”
Two hours later, I was hiding in the pub.
Yes, we had a pub now. Some of the cats who’d developed a taste for beer after our initial barrel of booze decided it was the greatest thing since sliced bread—or whatever the feline equivalent of that was. Naturally, Demo and Scruffy teamed up to make it happen. It was a miracle they hadn’t burned the place down yet.
I was crammed inside an empty beer barrel, crouching in the dark, praying to whatever deity looked after cats that Lucky wouldn’t find me.
The lid creaked open, and my heart leaped into my throat. I held my breath, ready to bolt, but to my heartfelt relief, it wasn’t Lucky.
“Boss?” Scruffy peered inside, his head tilted in confusion. “What are you doing in there?”
“Hiding,” I whispered, as if that would keep Lucky from hearing me.
Scruffy raised an eyebrow. “Is it Lucky?”
“Yep,” I replied, the word coming out more like a squeak.
He snorted, a mix of amusement and disbelief. “I don’t understand your obsession with running away from her.”
I shot him a look, narrowing my eyes. “She wants to pop my cherry!”
Wait. Did that metaphor even apply to me? Was it the boy who got their cherries popped, or the girl? Was there a cat version of this?
Scruffy’s whiskers twitched as he stared at me. “Oh, she just wants to eat cherries? We’ve got some of those in the back. Goes great with distilled liquor.”
“No!” I hissed, but before I could explain, a familiar voice echoed through the pub.
“Is Kaiser here!? Where is he!?” Lucky’s tone was laced with frustration and, to my growing terror, determination. “I swear I’m gonna choke that cat!”
I gulped, the sound loud in the silence of the barrel.
Scruffy glanced back toward the door, then down at me, his expression torn between sympathy and entertainment. “Good luck, boss,” he whispered, closing the lid with a soft thunk.
Great. Just great.