Chapter 102: That Smelled Like Trouble V
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They returned to Dawn House later in the late noon sun.
The city behind them still buzzed like a disturbed hive. Somewhere far away, a vendor was probably still screaming about vegetables and injustice. Sekhmet could almost feel the rumor spreading through the streets like smoke — Dawn House heir threw Dickon Iron into cabbages. In Slik, news did not walk. It ran.
But Dawn House stood apart from the noise.
Its district was quieter, the roads cleaner, the air less crowded with sweat and shouting. The closer Sekhmet came to the mansion, the more the world seemed to exhale. Not because the city was safer here, but because the people here believed it was.
And belief was a powerful thing in Null.
The mansion gates opened.
Creak...
The sound was deep and familiar, like an old throat clearing. The guards on duty bowed quickly, and one of them pretended not to stare at Sekhmet’s coat, where the faint tear and dust still clung. They all knew better than to ask questions when a young master returned with a calm face and a dangerous calm in his eyes.
The courtyard felt calmer than the city, but not quiet.
A fountain ran gently near the center, the water sparkling under the sun. Servants moved along the stone paths with trays and bundles, their steps quick but controlled. Somewhere in the left wing, someone was airing carpets, and the sound of cloth being beaten echoed softly.
Thump... thump... thump...
And there was laughter too — nervous laughter, the kind servants made when they heard gossip but did not want to be caught enjoying it.
Sekhmet stepped through the main doors.
The scent of Dawn House hit him immediately: polished wood, clean cloth, faint incense, and the subtle smell of ink and old paper from the library wing. For half a breath, his body tried to relax—
And then—
Inside, Bat Bat was waiting like a small missile.
The moment Sekhmet stepped through the main hall doors—
Zip!
Bat Bat sprinted across the floor in human form, wings flaring.
She moved like she was running from an invisible monster, except the monster was education and the only thing chasing her was responsibility. Her little bare feet slapped the marble like tiny drumbeats. A maid carrying a vase froze mid-step, eyes wide, shifting the vase higher like it was a shield.
"Not again," someone whispered.
Bat Bat leaped.
She launched herself with full confidence and absolutely no respect for gravity.
Sekhmet caught her out of instinct, holding her gently in one hand.
His body reacted the way it used to in purgatory — fast, automatic, protective. Only this time he caught something soft instead of something trying to kill him. Bat Bat’s wings fluttered wildly for a second, then tucked in as she settled into his palm like she belonged there.
Bat Bat’s face was bright.
"Master!" she yelled. "You back!"
Sekhmet blinked once.
Her voice echoed through the hall. Several servants flinched as if the sound itself could break something expensive.
Bat Bat squeezed his thumb like it was a victory trophy.
Her grip was small but determined, like she was afraid he might vanish again if she did not physically anchor him to reality.
"I learn!" she announced proudly.
Sekhmet’s eyebrow lifted.
"You learned," he repeated.
Bat Bat nodded violently.
"Yes!" she said. "I learn many things! Elena is scary!"
The declaration landed like a confession and an accusation in one. Two maids exchanged quick looks of sympathy, the shared look of soldiers who had served under the same terrifying commander.
Elena appeared behind Bat Bat like a silent storm, hands clasped, expression calm.
She did not rush. She did not raise her voice. She simply appeared, and the temperature in the hall seemed to drop slightly.
Her eyes were tired.
But there was satisfaction there too.
The satisfaction of someone who had dragged a wild creature through an hour of discipline and survived without losing dignity or sanity. Her calm carried the quiet threat of a woman who could make grown men apologize with one look.
Bat Bat pointed at Elena accusingly.
"She make Bat Bat write letters," Bat Bat complained.
The maid behind Elena visibly mouthed a prayer for Bat Bat’s soul.
Sekhmet’s gaze sharpened.
"Letters," he repeated.
Bat Bat puffed her cheeks.
"Yes," she said. "A... B... C... stupid line line." (Note: It’s not English but chaos letters. For reference I used English.)
She waved her hands like the letters were not knowledge but tiny enemies she had fought on paper. Her wings twitched irritably, as if they wanted to flap away from the memory.
Sekhmet stared.
Then his lips twitched faintly.
Writing letters was not nothing.
That meant Bat Bat’s mind had genuinely progressed beyond pure instinct.
It meant she was learning structure. Meaning. Order. The kind of growth that did not show as muscle or claws, but as something more valuable.
Bat Bat grabbed Sekhmet’s sleeve dramatically.
"Master," she whispered loudly, "I will become a genius soon. You see."
The whisper was not a whisper at all. It was a stage whisper. Half the hall heard it, and one servant snorted and immediately pretended it was a cough.
Sekhmet nodded.
"I see," he replied.
Bat Bat looked proud.
Elena cleared her throat softly.
The hall went just a little still, as if the sound itself was a command.
"Her growth increased today," Elena said.
Sekhmet’s eyes narrowed slightly.
"How much," he asked.
Elena’s lips tightened.
"A lot," Elena replied.
Sekhmet paused.
He checked the system notification:
[+10% Growth.]
Ten percent in one day was massive. That meant Elena truly took Lily’s challenge personally and turned Bat Bat’s training into war.
Bat Bat looked between them suspiciously.
"Why you talk like a merchant," Bat Bat asked.
Sekhmet patted Bat Bat’s head lightly.
"Because I am a merchant," he replied.
Bat Bat nodded as if that explained everything.
Auri entered behind Sekhmet quietly.
She came in like a shadow slipping under a door. Her cloak hid her wings well, but her presence still carried that calm sharpness.