Henry and Chris were about to say something, but the cat didn't give them the chance. In a blur of motion, it launched another attack—this time streaking toward Chris so fast it was nearly invisible.

Chris swung the barbell bar hard in the direction of the orange blur, but it sliced through empty air.

"Shit—!"

A sharp, burning pain tore through his shoulder. Four fresh claw marks bloomed across his skin, blood already welling up.

"I can't hit it! It's too damn fast!" Chris hissed through clenched teeth.

"Well, cats are fast to begin with. A mutated one? Of course it's faster," Henry muttered, frowning.

Ethan frowned too. Judging by its strength, the cat was probably no more than Tier 2—but the speed was the real problem.

And now the barbell bar's downside was painfully obvious.

Sure, it was great for smashing zombies—one swing, one splattered skull. But against something this quick? Useless. You couldn't hit what you couldn't catch.

"Drop the barbell. Use your fists," Ethan said.

"Got it." Both men nodded, tossing the heavy bars aside. They clenched their fists and locked eyes on the orange cat, muscles tensed.

The thing stood nearly two feet tall at the shoulder, and stretched close to three feet long. No wonder Chris had mistaken it for a tiger at first—he'd never seen a housecat that size.

And now, as it eyed them, the cat's expression twisted into something unmistakable: mockery.

"Are you seeing this? That damn cat is mocking us!" Chris snapped.

"Can't let that slide."

"Hell no."

"Let's wreck it!"

All three lunged at once, charging the orange cat in a coordinated rush.

But the cat just kicked off the ground and vanished again, slipping past them with ease. As it darted by, it raked Henry's side, leaving fresh claw marks in its wake.

"Goddamn—why does that hurt so much?" Henry winced, clutching his ribs.

"Guess it's only fair," Chris said with a grimace. "Cat's just making sure we all get a turn."

"..."

"You've got jokes now?" Henry shot him a look. "Focus. If we keep this up, it's gonna toy us to death."

Ethan didn't say anything, but his face was tight with concentration. The cat was just too fast—none of them could land a hit.

"Three Tier 2s getting played by a damn cat. That's one for the history books."

He activated his ability—[True Sight]—hoping it would be enough to track the thing's movements. If not, they really might die here, clawed to ribbons by a smug, oversized feline.

The cat moved again.

With a powerful kick, it launched straight at Ethan.

But this time, through the lens of [True Sight], its path wasn't a blur. It was fast—still insanely fast—but not invisible.

As the cat closed in, claws outstretched, aiming for his face, Ethan struck.

His fist shot out like a piston, slamming into the cat's belly before it could react. The impact sent it flying, tumbling across the ground.

"Hell yeah, Ethan!" Chris whooped.

Henry grinned. "Finally landed a hit!"

The orange cat scrambled to its feet, eyes locked on Ethan with something close to shock. It hadn't expected that. Not from a human.

Now it was wary.

It began to pace in a slow circle, just outside their reach, tail twitching, eyes scanning for an opening.

Ethan didn't dare relax for a second. He kept his eyes locked on the cat, waiting for its next move.

As for going on the offensive? Not a chance. They couldn't even graze the damn thing.

"Ethan, how'd you land that hit just now?" Chris asked in a low voice, still catching his breath.

"Used my ability," Ethan said with a sigh.

"Figures."

Chris nodded, a little disappointed. He'd been hoping for some secret technique—turns out Ethan had just flipped on the cheat codes. Not exactly something he could copy.

They held the standoff for a few tense minutes. Ethan could already feel his focus starting to fray when the cat suddenly sprang into motion again.

But this time, it didn't charge straight at him. Instead, it leapt into a nearby tree, kicked off the trunk, and launched itself at him with even more speed.

Ethan cranked his [True Sight] to the max. The cat's movements lit up in his vision—fast, yes, but now traceable. He clenched his fist, waited for the exact moment its claws reached for him, and then drove his punch forward.

The orange cat's fur bristled in alarm. It tried to twist away, but it was too late.

Thud.

The punch landed square in its side, right at the waist. Harder than the last one. The cat hit the ground and tumbled, rolling several times before it managed to stagger upright.

But the moment it got to its feet, its fur stood on end again. Danger. It felt it. It tried to dodge—

Too slow.

From behind, where no one had been a second ago, Chris materialized out of thin air and slammed a punch straight into the cat's skull.

Crack!

The cat's body skidded across the ground, bouncing and sliding for dozens of feet before coming to a stop.

Chris had gone invisible the moment the cat lost track of him. It never saw him coming.

The cat tried to rise again, dazed and swaying—but Henry had been waiting. He stepped in and stomped down hard, pinning it to the dirt.

Ethan and Chris rushed over, and together, the three of them planted their boots on the cat's body, locking it in place.

"Holy shit," Chris panted, grinning. "You clawed me, you smug bastard. Let's see you act tough now."

"This thing's way more trouble than a zombie," Ethan said, wiping sweat from his brow.

"No kidding. If you hadn't been here, Ethan, we'd be toast," Henry added.

"Meow!!"

Pinned beneath them, the orange cat thrashed wildly, yowling in fury. But it couldn't break free. Not against three Tier 2s.

"So what now? Kill it?" Chris asked.

"What, you wanna let it go? Let it claw your face off next time?" Henry snorted.

"Kill it," Ethan said. "It's got a crystal core in its head—different from the ones in zombies, I think."

"Got it."

Chris nodded, grabbed the barbell bar from where he'd dropped it, and raised it high over the cat's head.

The orange cat didn't flinch. No fear, no pleading. Just a strange mix of resignation and... something else. A flicker of longing, maybe. Relief.

It was bizarre—how could a cat show that much emotion?

Just as Chris was about to bring the bar down, Ethan suddenly shouted, "Wait!"

Chris jerked to a stop. But a 40-pound barbell bar doesn't just stop mid-swing. He twisted his grip and redirected the blow, slamming it into the dirt beside the cat's head instead.

BOOM.

Dust exploded into the air. The ground shook. That hit would've cracked the cat's skull like an egg.

The orange cat froze, body stiff as a board. Clearly scared shitless.

"Goddamn, my back," Chris groaned, clutching his waist. "Ethan, next time you wanna change your mind, maybe give me a little more warning?"

"Sorry," Ethan said sheepishly. "It was a last-second thought."

He looked down at the cat beneath their feet. "This one's... different. Smarter. You guys think it's possible to tame it? Keep it as a pet?"

"Ethan, you're dreaming," Chris said flatly. "I guarantee the second we lift our feet, this thing's gone."

"Yeah... you're probably right. Forget it. Let's finish it."

"Mm."

Chris raised the barbell again.

"Meow! Meow!"

The cat, which had seemed resigned to its fate just moments ago, suddenly let out a frantic series of cries. Urgent. Desperate. Like it was trying to say something.

"What the hell's it doing now?"

"Beats me. You think it... understood us?"

"No way."

But then the cat did something that made all three of them freeze.

It nodded.

Its eyes were wide, pleading, filled with panic—and unmistakable awareness.

Chris stared. "Holy shit. This thing's... self-aware?"

...

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