1. Blessings
"Choose your hero."
I listened to the announcer as the timer counted down from thirty seconds.
On my team, three players had already locked in their heroes: Hard Support, Support, and Off-lane.
Across the screen, the enemy side had two heroes selected, with three slots still blank, waiting to be revealed.
As the countdown hit zero, both the Safelane and Midlane remained unclaimed.
And then, the penalty began.
-2
-2
-2
Ticking away with each passing second.
"Fuck!"
I began using my trained finger to bestow my blessing upon the Midlane.
"Pick!! I'm last!!"
Even after receiving my holy guidance, he actually had the audacity to talk back.
"I'm last."
"That's why you're the Archon! I'm the carry, fk you."
Despite offering him a second blessing, Mid still refused to choose his hero.
For context, if I blessed him more directly, the words would magically turn into **** —
which is why I have to deliver my guidance in a more… divine, roundabout way.
Like those vague prophecies you hear from oracles in movies—ambiguous, but still perfectly understandable.
"I'm last!" he repeated, exactly the same.
"Fk!"
"You know what? I don't care anymore. You can carry the damn game, you fker."
And just like that, the countdown continued.
-2
-2
-2
-2
And finally, Mid surrendered and chose his hero…
but it was already too late.
"I don't care."
Even though I was the only one who hadn't picked a hero, I simply let the countdown run out.
Zero. No selection. And naturally, the penalty returned.
-2
-2
-2
-2
See? I even received their blessings.
"PICK OI!!"
"CRYBABY!"
"PINOY!"
"CHING CHONG!"
"JUST UNINSTALL YOU FK!"
Look at that—so many blessings raining down.
But well, I've never been a religious person, so…
"FUCK YOU, IDC. –25. BLAME YOUR MID."
After losing almost one-sixth of my starting gold, the game finally gave up on me and auto-randomed my hero.
"Sven."
Oh—not bad.
I shrugged and began buying my starting items, even with my reduced money. After all, it'd be a real problem if I just abandoned the game.
And honestly, I was still confident we could win…
unless those fuckers started feeding.
Just then, a black cat suddenly hopped onto my lap.
"Meow," she cried adorably.
However, I was still in the middle of a crisis.
"I'll play with you later, okay?" I said, gently lifting the cat and setting her down.
"Meow," the cat cried again.
It didn't sound much different from before, but somehow my instincts told me she was sulking.
"Okay, okay. I'll give you a treat later, alright?" I said, gently nudging her away with my foot.
Of course she's my cat—I treated her gently.
She suddenly leapt onto the table and knocked over my glass of tea.
"Aa!" I yelped, too shocked to react.
Before I could recover, she sank her teeth into the cable stretched across the table.
And… just like that, I ended up here.
Not that I'm explaining this to anyone.
This is just me killing time in a boring life during my infant days.
***
One day, a baby was born shining as brightly as sunlight.
It felt like the dawn of a new era, the sunrise that marked the beginning of an entirely new generation.
From that child onward, one after another, babies with extraordinary quirks began to appear.
Over time, society—just as humans always have—adapted to this strange new reality.
Heroes and villains became the center of the world.
Kids in kindergarten no longer dreamed of becoming pilots, doctors, or even YouTubers.
Every single one of them wanted to be a hero.
"What a wretched world."
'Why do you say that?'
'lolololol'
'true'
I glanced at the chat on my streaming channel.
"You know, every child wants to wield violence now—and you still think this isn't a wretched world?"
"Nora!! Come down, time to eat!"
'lololol'
'you got called!'
'goodbye'
"Coming, Mom," I answered, then turned back to the camera.
"Alright, you guys heard her. See you next time."
'goodbye'
'byebye'
With that, I ended the stream, packed up my gear, and headed downstairs.
"Do you need help, Mom?" I asked as I stepped into the kitchen-dining room.
"Nya, can you help me set the table then?"
"Ok, nya," I replied.
Nya? You might think it odd for a middle-aged woman to speak like that, but it's just her habit—inevitable at this point.
My mother had pads on her hands and feet, along with fur and a tail.
Yes, she was a cat-woman—but not the kind you see in anime like Nekopara, or the typical cute girl with animal ears.
No, she was more realistic—about 70–80% black cat, from fur to tail.
Meanwhile, the one who looked more like an anime girl was… me.
Aside from my cat ears and tail, I appeared completely human.
I was wearing something like a butler uniform—it probably wouldn't be hard for me to find work at a host club.
"Are you thinking something strange again?" Mom interrupted, carrying something that smelled absolutely delicious.
"Nope," I denied half-heartedly, my eyes drifting toward the dish in her hands.
"Salmon," I muttered with delight.
"Don't lie. Look at your own tail, nya."
I turned—and caught sight of my tail swaying uncontrollably…
"Mom, the scientific research about cat tail language… it's really just how humans perceive cats. They observe the cat's reactions and interpret them based on their own understanding. So it's not a fact—it's just a collective, subjective interpretation dressed up as science," I rambled, repeating nonsense I'd heard somewhere—I couldn't even remember where.
"But I'm a cat too," Mom countered. As a cat herself, with years of experience, she understood her own tail and what it meant.
"I see… that makes sense," I quickly agreed, not wanting to argue further.
Bonk.
She bonked me on the head. Thankfully, it wasn't a frying pan—a lesson a certain thief had learned while helping a girl with absurdly long magical hair. Sometimes, a frying pan can be mightier than a sword… and on some battlegrounds, even stronger than a gun.
Bonk.
She bonked me again. "Stop thinking weird things and go wash your hands."
"Haii," I said, heading to the sink to wash up.
"I'm home!" someone suddenly announced as they entered the house.
"Welcome home, nya!" Mom greeted happily, even wrapping her tail around him.
"Welcome," I added, greeting the intruder—my fellow companion.
"Dad, I'm done. All yours," I called out to him.
It was my dad. Built like a tank, he looked every bit like a retired adventurer who had now become a guild master.
As for why I called him a "fellow companion"—well, just like I had a cat pet, he had a cat as a wife. There was no way he wasn't a fellow cat-person.
He had a strength-type quirk and looked completely human in every other way. That's why I appeared human too, aside from my cat ears and tail.
"Today's dinner is salmon," I informed him—clearly the most important piece of information.
"Wooo!" he cheered.
Fish was our favorite.