PSW Chapter 4: Help! You Bastard! "Achoo! Achoo! Achoo!"
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A sleek black cat with an elongated, elegant frame sat at the entrance of the royal animal park, sneezing three times in a row. His little nose was wet and icy cold, his entire head shaking with each forceful sneeze.
His overly long ears flopped against his skull with a loud smack, smack, smack—a sensation not unlike the way a girl sitting in front of you in class would flick her ponytail, repeatedly whipping you in the face.
Bastet: Damn, my head hurts!
"Meow? Meow… meowrrr!"
One thought, two curses, three mutterings… Hmm… Someone must have cursed me three times! Who?! Which son of a—dared to badmouth me?! It must be that perverted bastard eyeing my poor rear end!
I swear I’ll beat you up!
Lacking any confidence in his own popularity, Bastet stood on his hind legs, bared his tiny fangs, and threw a flurry of cat punches at the empty air, letting out a threatening hiss!
Only after pretending to beat up this imaginary trash-talker did he finally collapse back onto all fours, breathing hard. For good measure, he dramatically gathered spit in his tiny cat mouth and let out a weak little ptooey! at the nonexistent opponent.
Bastet (｀へ): Meowrrr! Ptoo! Now do you know who’s boss? Hmph! I’m super fierce!
The empty space before him: …
"Meow~"
—Forget it, I’m in a bad mood today. I was almost scared to death by that bastard, then he even groped my balls. Being a cat is really hard…
Bastet lifted his gaze toward the breathtakingly brilliant night sky of ancient Egypt, its stars so dazzling that even a time-traveling cat like him was awestruck. He let out a long sigh.
Life is tough. Even a cat has to sigh.
Alright, I’ve decided—I’m skipping work today!
The melancholic, world-weary facade on the little black cat vanished in an instant. With a playful bounce, he pranced away from the direction of the Treasure Vault of the King, heading instead toward the royal menagerie, looking every bit like an unhinged feline lunatic.
Bastet had no idea what kind of bloodbath was currently taking place in the royal menagerie after his escape from the “big pervert.”
Technically speaking, he wasn’t even supposed to be living in the royal menagerie.
The royal menagerie was home to lions, falcons, and all sorts of rare and exotic creatures gifted by smaller nations as tribute.
However, Bastet was temporarily housed there while awaiting the Pharaoh’s coronation ceremony. Only after the ceremony would he be taken to his rightful temple.
A Cat God spent the daytime at the Temple of Bastet, receiving offerings and listening to the prayers of the faithful. At night, the Cat God would leave the temple, heading toward the royal palace—continuing his duties within the Pharaoh’s inner court.
The Cat Gods were chosen from among thousands, standing above ordinary cats in both intelligence and appearance. They were elegant, poised, and possessed an otherworldly grace—much like how an emperor would select his elite guards.
It wasn’t enough to be skilled and capable; a Cat God had to be stunning, a sight so pleasing to the eye that even a king would feel joy just by looking at them!
Blessed by the goddess, these feline deities were bestowed with near-human intelligence and divine power. They were so smart that they understood their responsibilities and would dutifully arrive at the palace at the appointed time, without fail.
The commoners of the Egyptian capital were accustomed to this sight:
A black cat, regal in gaze, posture, and the very rhythm of its steps—walking alone down the grand road leading to the palace gates.
The royal guards never stopped it.
Instead, they would clench their fists, press them against their chests, and bow low in respect.
As if they were welcoming another little ruler of the palace.
Before Bastet transmigrated, the body he now occupied belonged to a cat god of the Bastet Goddess Temple, one that was about to be personally crowned by the Pharaoh of Egypt. And not just any cat god—this was the cat god of the grand temple, not a mere branch temple!
Clearly, this little black cat was extraordinarily adorable and beautiful.
More importantly, Bastet had heard from the maid taking care of him that the selection criteria for a cat god candidate depended on whether the cat possessed divine power.
The Moon Goddess typically bestowed prophecy and extraordinary resilience upon her chosen cats. It was said that every divine cat had multiple lives. Before Bastet arrived, this very cat had made several astonishingly accurate prophecies, including predicting an earthquake in a certain region of Egypt. That prophecy alone had outshone the other divine cats, securing it the top rank.
It had even gained a small following of worshippers in Egypt.
Bastet’s response to this? Nonsense!
A cat making prophecies?
What am I, Paul the Octopus? Predicting sports championships on demand?
T/N: Paul the Octopus- was a common octopus who predicted the results of international association football matches.
That kind of thing was obviously just ancient Egyptian superstition.
Cats couldn’t talk—it was all just human imagination.
Bastet dismissed the idea as a joke.
All he really cared about was his soft, cozy cat bed. Every bone in his body was screaming, Go home! Curl up! Be the laziest, most beautiful slacker! The black cat dashed forward, tongue lolling out like a panting dog.
"Meow~~~ Meow meow~"
La la la~ Going home~ Time for a nap!
Hehehe~
Huh?
What was that smell? So fresh and sweet.
The little black cat slowed its steps, stopping not far from the entrance of the royal menagerie. Tilting its head, it sniffed the air, ears twitching in confusion. Its long tail curled at the tip, swaying slightly.
"Meow."
—This scent... it smells like the raw venison that the maid fed me before. Did she secretly give treats to another animal while I was out? But why is my heart pounding so fast? Why does this feel so uncomfortable?
Bastet plopped down on the ground, raising a hind leg to scratch its chin. Its emerald-green cat eyes gleamed in the dark as it stared fixedly at the gates of the beast garden. Its tail lay flat on the ground, the tip tapping in a rhythmic pattern.
Uncomfortable.
Very uncomfortable.
Something had changed in the atmosphere.
The pitch-black night churned like thick, oppressive ink, swallowing the torchlight and the intricate buildings behind it. The darkness spread out, clawing toward the sky and creeping in all directions. Even the grass seemed to struggle before vanishing into the abyss. Eventually, the shadows slithered toward Bastet’s back…
Above, the beautiful stars flickered.
From dazzling and brilliant, they transformed into countless blinking, eerie eyes—dense clusters of pupils watching the ground in secret.
The wind blew.
It swept from the direction of the beast garden, brushing against Bastet’s fur and filling its nose.
The fresh, sweet scent became even stronger. A voice whispered softly in its ear:
"Have you forgotten your human judgment? What does 'fresh and sweet' mean to a cat? And what does it mean to you?"
Blood.
A lot of blood. Either human blood or that of a deer.
But the royal menagerie didn’t house that many deer. The lions were usually fed antelope. Even in this feline form, Bastet’s sharp sense of smell made it clear what the scent was.
Deer blood had a scent almost identical to human blood.
If it wasn’t deer… then it was human.
Someone had died in the royal menagerie.
No—many people had died.
Bastet let out a long, drawn-out meow before standing up again. His emerald-green cat eyes turned cold as he padded forward soundlessly, his soft paw pads muffling every step.
His whiskers twitched slightly as he used both scent and instinct to scan his surroundings. His movements were light and graceful yet cautious, his shoulder blades shifting rhythmically with each step. His sleek black fur gleamed faintly, reflecting the dim light like flowing water, while his tail swayed behind him, maintaining balance.
As he moved, he blended seamlessly into the night, carefully observing everything around him.
A cat was a small predator.
A creature under the Moon Goddess’s divine favor.
No one noticed when Bastet leaped onto a tree branch within the royal menagerie.
From his vantage point, he peered down, his feline eyes mirroring the gruesome scene below.
The maids who had once cared for him lay dead. Each of their corpses had a single, gruesome slash across the neck. Their limp bodies curled up lifelessly on the ground, resembling split-open, rotting tomatoes, with dark red "juice" spilling from their wounds and spreading across the earth.
The killers were clad in golden armor with soft red linen tunics beneath. They were tall and strong, their faces emotionless as they silently dragged the bodies together. Nearby, cages holding wild beasts were being wheeled in. Without a word, the soldiers threw daggers into the enclosures.
The daggers must have been coated in poison. The beasts roared and lashed out in protest, but within moments, they began to foam at the mouth and collapsed, motionless.
Bastet recognized these men.
They were the Pharaoh’s royal guards—fanatics who worshipped the Pharaoh as a living god.
No one could command them except the Pharaoh himself, not even the high priests.
The fact that they were here could mean only one thing: this was an order from the Pharaoh.
As for the reason?
Perhaps there was none.
Bastet had long heard rumors of the Pharaoh’s erratic, bloodthirsty cruelty. It was entirely possible that this massacre was nothing more than a whim—perhaps he simply wanted to "cleanse" the royal menagerie to make room for new pets.
"Meow—!"
Bastet’s fur bristled in rage, his glowing green eyes sharp with hatred as he glared down at the men below.
One of the soldiers asked, "Is everything taken care of?"
Another, holding what appeared to be a registry, nodded. "Yes. But on the last page, it mentions a cat—one that was a candidate for divine coronation by the Pharaoh. It was temporarily housed in the royal menagerie. A cat… shouldn’t be included in the purge, right?"
Egyptians revered cats, and laws strictly protected them. Cats were considered the Pharaoh’s property, forbidden from being taken out of Egypt, and common people had no right to harm them.
"Should we seek the Pharaoh’s orders?"
"You’re right." The leader of the guards nodded. "Catch the cat. I’ll request instructions from the Pharaoh immediately."
"Understood."
Perched in the tree, Bastet watched as the leader hurried away. The remaining guards lifted their torches and began searching for him.
Being familiar with cats, they knew exactly where to look. They started with the dark corners, then moved to branches strong enough to support a cat’s weight, leaving no possible hiding spot unchecked.
The torchlight quickly swept over.
Bastet’s eyes involuntarily reflected the light, immediately catching the attention of the royal guards.
“There it is!”
A towering man sprang into action, moving at an astonishing speed. He kicked off the wall, twisting midair with practiced agility, and lunged at the tree like a giant lizard!
A massive palm, as broad as a fan, came crashing down within Bastet's field of vision! The black cat hadn't expected the man to have such quick reflexes and well-trained movements. Terrified, his fur bristled instantly.
“Meow—!”
With a startled yowl, Bastet leaped up and bolted in the opposite direction.
“Meow!”
—I don’t want to die! Help!
His mind was filled with horrifying images—the twisted, grotesque faces of the murdered women, the wild beasts convulsing and foaming at the mouth. Panicked, Bastet darted through the leaves, blindly crashing through the foliage. The broad leaves whipped against his furry face, stinging and making it impossible to keep his eyes open.
Bastet didn’t dare look back. He had just survived—he wasn’t about to die so easily!
…
Meanwhile, a figure wrapped in white cloth was making his way toward the beast garden. As the underbrush rustled nearby, he suddenly stopped in his tracks.
From beneath the fabric, a pair of thick platinum lashes lifted, revealing piercing ice-blue eyes that turned sharp and cold, fixing onto a certain spot.
An assassin left unchecked?
Heh. Bold.
Yofar’s lips curled into a cold smirk. He looked down at the rustling grass with detached amusement, his pale hand resting at his side—ready to kill whatever foolish, lowly creature dared to defy him.
The rustling continued for a moment, then—
Plop!
Yofar raised an eyebrow. Plop?
A small black ball tumbled out from the bushes, rolling several times before crashing straight into his woven shoes.
Perhaps from the impact, the little thing flopped onto its back, legs splayed out, soft round belly exposed. It lay there, completely still—right on the foot of Egypt’s ruler, the Pharaoh.
Splat.
A sudden warmth spread across his foot, accompanied by an incredibly soft sensation.
Yofar: …
Yofar remained silent for a moment before crouching down. With two fingers, he pinched the loose fur at the back of this "assassin’s" neck and lifted it into the air.
The small creature dangled there, its round belly fully exposed, all four little paws swaying weakly. Its tiny head wobbled back and forth, clearly still dazed.
Bastet: Meow… so dizzy… Stars! Stars are flying above my head…
Yofar let out a low chuckle.
"Throwing yourself into my arms?" He smirked, gazing at the little thing in amusement. "How passionate. I must say… I quite like it."
T/N: Please give support on my ko-fi page, thank you🍊🍊🍊
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