PSW Chapter 26: I’m Super Fierce!
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"Ah! My hand—!"
Inside the sacred and solemn temple, the wrapped-up “mummy” woman let out a sharp, startled scream as three deep scratches across her hand began to gush blood.
No one could tell which one it was—both were wrapped too tightly—but she clutched her injured hand and crouched down in pain.
Around them, ministers, priests, and even Nephthys were momentarily stunned by Bastet’s sudden attack, their faces filled with shock.
Yofar frowned slightly, his gaze landing on the little black furball—fur bristling, breath huffing in fury, its body seemingly puffed up twice its size.
Something crossed his mind.
Then his brows relaxed, and the corner of his lips curled ever so slightly.
You think you can protect me, little thing?
I do.
Bastet didn’t know what Yofar was thinking, but if it did, that would have been its answer.
Right now, all it felt was fury and a touch of smug satisfaction. Judging by the voice of the woman screaming in pain, it was Batrana—the very one Bastet had personally witnessed fooling around.
Bastet: Heh, looks like my luck isn’t bad today—got her in one strike!
Wrapped up like a mummy, Batrana crouched in pain, stunned and confused. But when she saw the blood soaking through the white gauze, the first thing she thought was to stand up and strike back hard.
She was a princess! A noble! No one would dare harm her!
With that thought, she acted—shooting up to her feet, glaring murderously at the black cat huffing at her, and raising her hand high.
"You damned cat!"
She roared and swung her palm down.
But Bastet wasn’t scared at all. It was a cat now, after all! No ordinary human could be as nimble as it was. With its speed, it could dodge in an instant—then claw this woman into oblivion!
"Myao—!"
Bring it on! You think I’m scared?!
Bastet reared up on its hind legs, claws biubiu shooting out, eyes gleaming fiercely. Its thickened tail lashed sharply, its fangs bared in a silent snarl.
Despite its sleek, elegant frame, Bastet was an ancient breed nearly the size of a caracal. Though its bones hadn’t fully matured, the shape of a wildcat was already forming. Its narrow face twisted into a—
Well.
A very menacing expression.
Quite terrifying, really.
Bastet bared its fangs and glared: “A good man doesn’t hit a woman—but I’m no damn man! Today, I’m giving you a tattoo you won’t forget!”
"Myao—come on, let’s claw each other!"
Batrana faltered at the sight of the ferocious black cat. Those ghostly green eyes seemed to glow like eerie flames. For some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to strike down.
Is this cat insane?
Will it scratch me again?
Pain throbbed in her injured hand. In the end, Batrana didn’t dare act. Furious, she turned to the others.
"Where are the royal guards?! The priests?! You useless fools, can’t you see I’ve been scratched? Seize that cat at once!"
The music stopped again.
The air went still—dead silent.
But no one looked at Batrana.
They were all looking at Yofar.
And then, they saw it—
The strikingly handsome Pharaoh, clad in his majestic golden armor and crown, radiating an air of regality and power.
And beneath all that grandeur—
He was gazing at his little black menace with an easy, contented look, his lips curved into the faintest smile.
A smile as pure as spring water.
…A little sweet, even.
Nephthys: …
Ministers & priests: …
Ministers & priests: Are we blind again?
No one responded to Batrana. Naturally, she followed their gazes and locked eyes with Yofar.
But she had seen firsthand how this man had brutally slaughtered the former queen. From that moment on, she had feared him from the depths of her soul.
Even with a smile on his face now, all she could see was a demon grinning at her.
As if scalded, her pupils shrank, and she quickly averted her eyes. With waning confidence, she turned her wrath onto the High Priest instead.
"What are you waiting for, Priest?! Must I continue bleeding while you stand there?! Since when could any random wild cat be a so-called Cat God?!"
"……"
The princesses weren’t allowed into the temple until after the ritual had ended, so they had no idea about the conversation between Yofar and the High Priest earlier.
Now, being berated by Batrana, the High Priest was so furious he could barely hold his staff. He cursed inwardly: This generation of royals is all rotten!
The ministers kept their mouths tightly shut.
The royal guards only listened to the Pharaoh.
Meanwhile, the other princess, seeing that she was fine while Batrana was suffering, was secretly gloating.
Everyone was waiting for the king to speak—but their king… was busy stroking his cat with his eyes.
"You… you all—!"
Batrana, ignored and humiliated, was turning red with rage beneath her heavy wrappings—not that anyone could see her flushed face.
The little black cat scoffed, lowering its paws to rest now that the enemy had turned away.
Finally, Nephthys stepped forward, intending to give her an out. He spoke gently, “The ceremony is still underway, Princess. Please allow it to proceed.”
Who knew Batrana would kick away the offered ladder?
"This is clearly the priests’ responsibility! Why should I endure this?!"
It wasn’t even a major celebration or a grand ritual. What was she afraid to say?!
Nephthys twitched at the corners of his mouth. “….”
You don’t want a way out? Why is this princess so stupid in such a raw, unfiltered way?
And you’re demanding answers from the High Priest? Do you think the king will allow it?
Not even half an hour ago, that very Pharaoh standing over there nearly drew his sword to chop down the old priest—for his cat, you know that?!
The High Priest, now caught in the crossfire, ground his teeth and grumbled, “…The cat is not part of our temple!”
We’re not taking the blame for this!
Batrana sneered.
"If it’s not from the temple, then what kind of ‘Cat God’ is it supposed to be?!"
"This damned, foolish creature—who does it belong to?! I want it executed!"
Her sharp, humiliated demand echoed through the vast temple.
"…………"
The ministers’ expressions twisted.
The High Priest was seething.
Nephthys, exasperated beyond words, covered his face and rolled his eyes.
"What, no one dares to admit it?"
Batrana’s gaze swept the room like a dagger. No one met her eyes. She was just about to ask again—
When, behind her, the radiant Pharaoh, who had been busy admiring his cat, finally turned his head.
Expression blank.
Cold as death.
His voice, dripping with frost, cut through the silence.
"Mine."
Then:
"Do you have a problem with that?"
"……"
Batrana stiffly turned around.
And locked eyes with Yofar’s piercing ice-blue stare.
His hand rested on the hilt of his sword as he asked,
"Who do you want to kill?"
"……"
Batrana visibly trembled.
The little black furball watched the scene unfold.
And then—
"Hngchhh!"
It let out a snorting laugh, sounding like a pig squealing.
…
In the end, the two princesses were escorted away by handmaidens sent by Nephthys.
The High Priest frowned at Yofar and hesitated before speaking. “…But, the Cat God hasn’t chosen.”
Yofar: “It has.”
The High Priest: “…” (Y. X. D. J.)
Yofar’s face remained cold. “Didn’t Bastet place its paw on her hand?”
The little black furball: Meow—exactly, exactly!
The High Priest: “…” You call that ‘placing’? That was clearly a scratch!
Feeling utterly exasperated, the old priest’s face turned dark. He hastily wrapped up the ceremony, eager to go home and never lay eyes on the new king again.
—
The ceremony was followed by a grand banquet.
The ministers accompanied the Pharaoh back to the palace. As per tradition, after selecting his queen, Yofar would host a feast for all the ministers—lavish food, fine wine, enchanting dancers and singers. Once the revelry ended, the next day would be a day of rest with no court sessions.
Nephthys had already arranged for handmaidens to notify the palace to prepare the banquet immediately after the ceremony ended.
So, by the time Yofar led the procession back, the grand hall was ready. He took his place at the head of the banquet, with the ministers seated in order of rank, each with a soft cushion and a low table.
Young and beautiful handmaidens glided in, carrying exquisite delicacies. The air filled with the aroma of spices and roasted meat, their flowing skirts trailing like petals as they served the dishes.
Bastet, however, wasn’t focused on the food.
The little black furball, now nestled in Nephthys’ arms, had gone from fearsome warrior to obedient kitten.
It’s happening, it’s happening, it’s happening…
Its tiny heart pounded wildly.
Bastet didn’t know the exact timing, but it knew—tonight, something would take place that would be etched into Egyptian history. A power struggle drenched in blood between the Pharaoh and his ministers.
Would there be bloodshed? …Of course, there would be.
Would it be too gory?
The tension of holding onto such a huge secret made it anxiously scan the faces of the gathered ministers.
The officials drank and feasted, clearly unguarded.
Bastet couldn’t help but admire the ones who had secretly defected to Yofar’s side—they showed no signs of guilt, their expressions calm and composed.
Nephthys, ever-smiling, occasionally stepped forward to speak with female officials. As the Grand Priestess, managing the banquet was part of her duties, so no one found it unusual when she exchanged words with them.
After a while, she grew busier and had to put Bastet down.
The black furball, ever tactful, hopped down and settled itself neatly at its human’s feet.
Yofar still wore his golden armor. His hand held a golden wine goblet as he drank.
Bastet: …These ministers never questioned why Yofar hadn’t even bothered changing out of his armor. A man fully clad for war—does that really suit a banquet setting?
As Bastet pondered this, something pressed down on its head.
A hand, clad in armored gloves, flattened its two little triangular ears, rubbing them back and forth against its skull.
The touch was firm.
Bastet looked up.
And met those piercing ice-blue eyes.
"Stay by my side." Yofar’s voice was low and husky.
He paused for a moment, then added, "If you’re scared, you can hide in my chambers."
The little black beast yawned, its crimson mouth stretching wide.
"Meow~" I’m a little scared, yeah.
But Bastet was honest about its cowardice.
So it stretched its voice out in another meow—but I still want to stay here.
No matter what happens, I’ll stay with you.
In its tiny heart, Yofar wasn’t quite at the level of a family member or a lover.
But… they had been ‘cohabiting’ for so long now.
Bastet had already unilaterally decided—Yofar was its person. Its good friend.
So, even if it was useless, it would at least stay by his side.
Hearing the soft, insistent meows by his ear, Yofar’s heart softened even more.
His lips curved slightly in an almost imperceptible smile.
His hand gently pinched Bastet’s ear, kneading the soft, plump flesh between his fingers.
Mmm.
Very soft.
—
[Author’s Notes – Mini Theater]
Yofar (gently drawing his sword): “This is my cat. Do you have a problem with that?”
Bastet (laughing like a pig): “Hngchhh hngchhh!”
Batrana: “…Damn it! This is some dog-and-cat bromance bullshit!”
—
T/N: Please give support on my ko-fi page, thank you🍊🍊🍊
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