Cultivating Anthro CEO RPG Hero Harem Reincarnation In Another World

Akira immediately fell silent, realizing the terrible faux pas he had just committed.

However, it was already tragically too late for the former world's richest, youngest, cutthroat playboy billionaire CEO to rescind his word as the kawaii captain faced him with a fuming smirk, her lips spread wide in a sarcastic grin, crossing her arms across her woefully flat chest.

"Just for that sly little comment, I'll be moving your name to the top of the execution list."

Akira gawked; left simply standing there, devastated, as the commander then tossed her silky black hair before turning and strutted away—unfathomably proud of the fact that she'd just condemned an innocent man to a gruesome death-by-beheading. All over a petty slight.

Once recovered from his initial shock, Akira showed only resentment on her face.

Joined by Cultivator Zhao, at his side, the two glared at the coldhearted captain's turned back. Both grumbling "women!" at precisely the same time—prompting the two to face each other with smiles and laughter.

"Well met," Zhao said, beaming as he shook Akira's hand. "You may be a long way from home, but I think you'll fit in just fine here in Seaspan."

Akira shrugged, sighing. "Assuming I make it out of here alive."

Zhao leaned close, whispering:

"You will, though. Trust me."

"Riiight," returned Akira, rolling his eyes. "Because watching you get talked down by someone 1/3rd your height really fills me with confidence."

"Here—"

After quickly glancing around, to be sure no one was watching, he discretely handed Akira something. A tiny, smooth sphere of wood with a line of solid steel ran along its circumference. He wanted to look at the strange object, but Zhao urged him to keep it in his pocket right away.

"What's this for?" Akira groaned. "And don't tell me it's some fucking good luck charm."

"Much more than that!" Zhao exclaimed, before returning to a whisper: "There is still much for you to learn about this world. But for the time being, just know you can throw that object unto the ground—when the time is right—to summon an ally to aid you."

Zhao then made a move to leave, but Akira abruptly stepped forward to catch him by the arm. "Wait! I'm not going anywhere without my girls."

"Don't worry, friend," he said, clapping Akira once on the shoulder. "There's a show scheduled before the executions are to take place, so that gives us a few hours to work with. So just join with the other prisoners in the square and wait, for now. I promise I'll get them back to you before long."

"Thank you. I know you're sticking your neck out for us."

Zhao nodded. "Virtue is just my aesthetic."

Eh? What did he mean by that...? Akira could only ponder, while he did as instructed and waited in the square through what Zhao had referred to as "a show." 

It was just a variety show, and a pretty lame one at that. Featuring sets for the best local minstrels that could be found at short notice, short plays, and even stand-up comedy—most of which, as far as Akira could tell, was more or less just Cultivator propaganda presented under the guise of entertainment. With the "comedian," that the show had on offer, being especially blatant:

"How about those Norns, huh?" he said, chuckling at himself. "A bunch of big, smelly, useless fat fuck bears with small cocks—am I right?"

Nobody in the unwilling audience was laughing; looking like they'd rather be executed right on the spot than sit through hours-long ordeal. All the while, [Sugar Rolls]—the same ones previously used as angry mob projectiles, then subsequently picked off the ground—were being sold at exorbitant prices by opportunistic vendors, combing the rows.

Rudolf, who was sitting beside Akira, rustled slightly in minor annoyance. Whereas the one called Yorick Stormfleece was nowhere to be seen—hauled off by soldiers somewhere, doubtless being treated with utmost hospitality by his vengeful captors.

There was no sign of Zhao or Commander Chunhua, either, as Akira continually scanned past the heads of the sea of hunched prisoners. Anxiously fondling the odd wooden sphere in his pocket.

'I know better than to place all my faith in a stranger,' he thought to himself. 'But still, I don't really have a choice…'

Meanwhile, on his other side, Vash had been focusing intently on the comedian's words: reading past their floundering attempts at masking his pr o-Cultivation sentiments as comedy, in an effort to glean as much information about Seaspan as possible.

"So far, all I can say for certain"—he turned to Akira, speaking in a hushed voice—"is that everyone here is a huge, flaming racist."

"That's a bit extreme. Surely, it can't be everyone?"

"By the way, I'm sorry about earlier."

Akira raised an eyebrow. "Sorry about…?"

"Going off on that guy." He sighed. "It's just...I got back with Kanna again, and then this shit happens. I'm just sorta—"

"Frustrated? Me too." Akira clenched his fist, raising it toward the sun as tears rolled down his eyes. "Now that I'm a guy again, I wanna put a baby in Kiki and CITA so bad! It's seriously all I can think about."

Vash chuckled. "Ah. I guess that's why you're so driven again, all of a sudden."

"How about you?" Akira asked. "Got any plans for Kanna? Still gonna leave us for a mundane life in a nice town somewhere?" His eyes gave off a mischievous twinkle. 

"Or, would it be alright with you if I made 'use' of her first?"

Vash cringed. "No, no...we talked it over. And we decided that, for now, we should stay with the party."

"Which, I take it, must mean…?"

"Don't even think about it!"

"Hehe." Akira rubbed his palms together, smirking. "Well, if Kanna says otherwise—"

"I'll n-never forgive you!"

"Hehe, well, forgiveness is cheap compared to expanding my genetic line."

"Children—and women, for that matter, aren't objects," Vash said, huffing as he crossed his arms, turning away. "Have you ever even given an ounce of thought about what it takes to be a good father?"

Akira gave a thoughtful look. "A good father?" His own father was a used car salesman, who also worked various freelance side-hustles. Someone who fully dedicated himself to conning as many people out of their money as possible, no matter what job he did. Albeit with the noble goal of supporting his family, and ensuring everyone were happy; with frequent gifts and overseas vacations.

That said: Akira rarely saw his father, who was often too busy even to return home some nights—sometimes for days on end.

'Could that be called…a "good father?"'

While he was in the middle of this existential moment, though, Vash was leaning back with his arms folded behind his head. Being careful not to touch the prisoner behind him—another Norn bear-man, dressed in the same blue and brown leathers as Rudolf and many of the other Norn gathered in the square.

"Anyway, sorry about all that earlier. When I freaked out on that guy," he said, abruptly lowering his arms. Becoming serious. "I'm just sick of all this...dumb bullshit, that keeps happening. Getting in between me and Kanna."

"It's fine," Akira said, touching him on the shoulder. "I understand—and I was only kidding about going after her."

Vash gawked in surprise. "A-Akira-san…!"

"I know that the relationship between you two is special. So, I wouldn't want to do anything to trouble it."

Vash wiped his eyes, sniffing. "Thank you."

"Hey, can you still use your magic?"

Vash formed a tiny fireball in his bound hands, returning a nod.

"Good—'cuz we're gonna need it."

"That man still hasn't returned, and it's been hours already."

Akira was silent: he wouldn't say so out loud, but he was of course prepared to make an escape without the girls, if it came down to it.

He only hoped that it wouldn't, as he continued to wait until the comedy show had ended, to incredibly weak applause. Followed by the unexpected appearance of a cheerfully beaming Commander Chunhua, taking to the center of the square: fixing, and puffing up her hair with one hand; brushing bits of fallen slush, and coarse blonde fur, off her red and gold Cultivator soldiers' uniform.

"Eh." Rudolf smirked. "I see that the commander has just laid with a man," he said, prompting Akira to turn to him sharply. His eyebrows raised in an unspoken question, until they explained:

"You can tell, when it comes to their type."

Akira scratched her head, uncertain. "Eh. Even if you're right, what a girl does in her privacy isn't any of our concern."

Rudolf chuckled. "In this case, I would say it does," he retorted, with a wink. "Otherwise, tell me: where do you think all that blonde fur that's covering her uniform came from?"

Akira gasped, upon realizing what it was he was implying, stretching open his mouth in a huge smile as he turned back toward the Commander, ignoring some hammy speech she was making—about how important; how "momentous" this day was to be, in Seaspan's history...to notice a single, solitary displaced crow's feather, resting upon her shoulder.

"Yes way," Rudolf replied, chuckling under his breath. "At least I can pass on to Solemnguard happily, then: knowing that my king's final day on earth wasn't all that miserable."

Akira grinned. It was good to know this new world was about as perverted as Nirvana.

Besides that, he felt confident, daying:

"Don't give up hope, just yet. I'm gonna get us all out of here."

Using the sphere in his pocket…

But what kind of incredible power might it contain?