["With that said, get lost."]
I show the sisters the door and kick them out.
["Wait, didn't we have a deal?"]
["I'll give you points for luring me into a honey trap, as expected of a mature woman, but taking care of kids will be a problem for me. The mutant rat isn't on the other side of this door. I wish you a safe journey."]
Taking care of people steals time, living with them is annoying, and when the internet comes back, it'll be slower with more parasites connected. I'd rather go to hell than share my Wi-Fi.
["Come on, I'm telling you it would be better if we stuck together."]
["Big brother, why are you so against it?"]
["I have a sacred mission as a rat kid, and people get in my way. So: get lost."]
[[Rat kid?]]
They don't know what it is? God, these uncultured children.
["W-whatever, we won't get in the way of that weird thing of yours. On the contrary, we can clean, cook, wash, and do many other things, you know?"]
["Big brother won't regret it, we'll be good."]
Why do I have to convince them to get lost? Don't they understand I'm a man?
Why do I reject a man's dream? Go to hell, we rat kids are solitary creatures. Besides, I'd like to see you inviting strangers into your house during an apocalypse. To hell with the harem, my beautiful life takes priority.
Woof.
While I was thinking about what to do with these wenches, Zeus complains.
["You want them to stay too?"]
Woof.
["We don't need them in the first place."]
Woof.
["Even if you say that…"]
Woof.
["Grrr… Fine, you can stay."]
[[Really? Thank you!]]
The two girls cling to Zeus with gratitude.
To hell with it all.
Is it because I named him Zeus? I curse my past self.
….
Heavy….
As my consciousness slowly returns, my body feels heavy.
["Zeus, I told you not to sleep on top of me, you're heavy… what the fu—?"]
I look at my chest and don't find Zeus, but two women using me as a pillow. They're wearing my long shirts and old shorts. I didn't have anything else to give them, and surprisingly, they didn't complain.
["Why the fuck are you here…"]
[[ummm]]
After deciding they could stay, I gave them clothes and my old room. But of course, what do they do? They invade my bed.
["Well, thanks for the meal."]
I'm not going to waste what comes for free. If they want to be violated, as a rat kid, I must fulfill their expectations…
Or I would, if my hands weren't asleep from being used as a pillow.
["Oi, wake the hell up."]
Since I can't do anything for my own benefit with numb hands, this fairytale is over.
Do I feel bad for waking them up, even though they had a rough day yesterday? Hell no, I don't give a damn about their needs.
["Ummm… You're so mean, big brother… You could have at least let me sleep a little longer…"]
["Oh, my, waking up with two beauties. Aren't you the luckiest? Feel free to enjoy it as much as you want…"]
This pair of daughters of…
["Damn it, get the hell up!"]
[[KYAAAAAAA]]
............….
(Note: The following monster profile is identical to the one provided in Chapter 409 and has been reproduced here for consistency.)
JOURNAL ENTRY NO: 409
SCIENTIFIC NAME: Rattus Maximus Urbanus
REGIONAL ALIASES:
Latin America: Los Plomeros / La Familia del Subsuelo (The Plumbers / The Underground Family)
Scavenger Zones (Anglo): The Under-Brokers
Reverential/Ironic Title: The Firstborn Rat Kids
NICKNAME (ASTRAD): The Sewer Syndicate
📊 THREAT ASSESSMENT
CLASSIFICATION: VENATOR
Technically they're hunters, but calling them that is like calling a mafia boss an 'office worker.' They operate with a clan structure and a terrifying social intelligence. They don't just hunt for food, but to protect their territory, eliminate threats, collect debts, and expand their influence in the underground ecosystem.
DANGER LEVEL: YELLOW (1 to 4 stars)
Your relationship with the local clan defines the stars. For an ally (1 star), they're someone else's problem, maybe even helpful. For a stranger (2-3 stars), they're a dangerous gang best avoided or appeased with an offering. For an enemy (4 stars), forget Yellow; they're an Orange-level death sentence that will hunt you down in your nightmares. Their danger isn't measured in bullets; it's measured in reputation.
AGGRESSIVENESS LEVEL: OPPORTUNISTIC
Their aggressiveness is a code of conduct, not a blind instinct. With strangers, they're opportunistic; they'll attack if they see a clear weakness. With their declared enemies, they become relentless; they'll hunt you for sport and on principle. With their clan and recognized allies, they are loyal to the death. Their hostility isn't random; it's a political decision.
🧬 COMBAT FILE (TL;DR)
TYPE: Beast
AFFINITY: Earth / Psychic (Social Mind) (with Light and Shadow duality)
🎯 PRIMARY WEAKNESSES:
Intense and sudden light, Ultrasonic sound, Breaking their code (betrayal is unforgivable), Smooth surfaces.
📌 KEY STRENGTHS:
Social and tactical intelligence, Near-telepathic clan coordination, Long-term memory (for favors and grudges).
📚 ORIGINS AND COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY
Urban Sociology: They are the logical result of decades of garbage, chemicals, and social neglect in large cities. Humanity ignored the sewers, and the sewers developed their own civilization to return the favor.
Thieves' Guild Myths: Their behavior is reminiscent of legends of thieves' or assassins' guilds with ironclad codes of honor. They steal, kill, and negotiate, but they have rules. The problem is, only they know all the rules.
Gamer Culture: They're a neutral faction you can gain or lose reputation with. Help them and you might unlock a questline. Screw them over and you'll spend the rest of the game with a "hunted to death" debuff.
Astrad's Analysis: People wonder if they're just big rats or intelligent beings. The uncomfortable truth is they're both. They have the ability to negotiate a peace treaty in the morning and eat you because you tripped in the afternoon. Their pragmatism is their most terrifying trait.
📝 DETAILED ANALYSIS
PHYSICAL AND SENSORY DESCRIPTION:
A mutated rat the size of a large dog, with a muscular and agile body under a matted, oily coat. Its tail, long and thick as a whip, is used for both balance and tactile communication. The eyes are small, black, and intelligent, always calculating. Their high-pitched squeals sound like sanded metal and are used to communicate over distances. They leave a distinctive grease trail on surfaces they climb and a persistent smell of ammonia and dampness. Their main known natural predator is the Fera Feline.
BEHAVIOR AND ECOLOGY (Updated Paragraph):
They are complex social beings living in hierarchical clans in sewer systems, subway tunnels, and deep basements. Their morality is a pragmatic duality based on recognition. An individual can be classified as "family" (Light), "ally" (Light), "neutral," "food" (Shadow), or "enemy" (Shadow). They will perform acts of almost suicidal loyalty and protection for their clan with the same naturalness with which they will torture a captured enemy. For them, there is no contradiction; both are logical actions to ensure the survival and prosperity of the clan.
☣️ PROTOCOLS
RECOMMENDED ENCOUNTER PROTOCOL:
DO: If you are neutral, make an offering of food and retreat slowly. Show that you are neither a threat nor easy prey. If you want to establish an alliance, acts of mutual benefit are the only language they understand.
DON'T: Attack a clan member without provocation (it will mark you as an enemy forever). Show extreme weakness (it will mark you as food). Assume they are "just animals."
FIELD REPORT (Note found at a merchant's stall in El Silencio, Caracas):
"A new neighbor tried to poison them. The next day, his stall was wrecked. I leave them a bag of rice on the windowsill every week. They never touch my merchandise. Last week, I found half a roasted chicken in my yard. I don't know if it was a payment, a gift, or sarcasm. With them, you never know. But my stall is still standing."
🎤 ASTRAD'S NOTES (THE ONLY SHIT THAT MATTERS):
Okay, let's get this straight. These things are the embodiment of an MMO guild. They're ugly, they stink, and they live in a sewer, but they have a more complex social organization than my last family. They're proof you don't need thumbs to create a civilization; you just need to be clear on who you want to screw over and who you want to protect.
The people make the mistake of seeing a giant rat. Wrong. What you have in front of you is an ambassador. And your actions will determine whether you've signed a trade agreement or a declaration of war. Their loyalty is legendary, but their grudge is biblical. If they like you, you might have an army of furry, greasy spies. If they don't, good luck sleeping knowing there are a dozen of them chewing on the foundations of your house just for the hell of it.
They are the original network of "rat kids." They're pragmatic, loyal to their own, and don't give a shit about the rest of the world.
In other words, they are the original rat kids, our cruder version, and what we would become if the apocalypse came knocking.
Let me be clear. What's really fucked up about these rats isn't that they're smart. It's that they are morally... efficient. They are living proof that Light and Darkness aren't football teams to cheer for; they are fucking tools in a toolbox.
On the light side—loyalty, sacrifice for the clan, a code of honor that would make a paladin weep—with an almost religious devotion. They'll pay a debt with a piece of roasted chicken because that's how the system works. But if you're on their blacklist, they'll pull out the 'Darkness'—methodical cruelty, a grudge that lasts for generations, unhesitating violence—and they'll apply it to you without blinking and without feeling a thing.
They aren't good or evil. They're worse: they're pragmatic. They have a code, and that, in this shitty world, makes them more predictable and yet more dangerous than any human I've ever met. They don't fight for goodness or for evil. They fight for the clan. And honestly... it's the only cause that still makes sense.
Praise the firstborn, learn from the firstborn.
The rat kid learns, the rat kid evolves.