Chapter 109: The Hungry Street III
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"Uh oh," she whispered.
Sekhmet exhaled slowly, as if mildly annoyed by the inconvenience.
He did not reach for his Blood Sword.
He did not speak to Auri. Auri was in the void land, and Bat Bat could not know about the system voice anyway.
He only let his eyes drift over the men and count.
One.
Two.
Five.
Ten.
More.
It kept going.
By the time Sekhmet finished his count, his mind had already made the conclusion.
Fifty.
The underground market’s noise continued around them, but the space in this lane became strange. People nearby stopped pretending. They backed away slowly. Not because they cared, but because they did not want to be splashed by trouble.
Everyone in the underground respected one thing more than morality.
They respected the consequences.
A man stepped forward from the front group. He was not the true leader. Sekhmet could tell immediately. The man had the confidence of someone protected by bigger teeth.
"You," the man said, pointing at Sekhmet. His grin was sharp and satisfied. "You think you can beat our people and walk again."
Sekhmet’s voice stayed calm.
"I defended myself," he said.
The man spat to the side.
"No," he said. "You embarrassed us. You left our men breathing like sick dogs. You made them crawl back to us with shame in their mouths."
Several men behind him laughed.
Ha... ha... ha...
But it was not a happy laugh. It was the laugh of people who wanted to make pain feel like entertainment.
Bat Bat’s wings flared slightly, then tucked back in.
"Many stupid," she muttered.
Sekhmet did not correct her.
The man lifted his hand.
Two thugs stepped forward carrying restraints. One held a thick rope. Another held chains. Another held a heavy iron collar etched with rough runes that looked like they had been used on beasts.
They were not here to fight him in public.
They were here to drag him.
To break him somewhere private.
To feed their pride.
Sekhmet’s jaw tightened for a moment. He felt excitement rise inside him like a reflex, sharp and poisonous. His muscles tensed automatically. His blood responded.
For a heartbeat, his body wanted to explode into violence.
But Sekhmet forced himself to breathe. He was not helpless in the air. He was standing. He was armed with power. He had choices now.
And he had a plan. He let his shoulders relax slightly. He lowered his gaze just enough to look weak.
Bat Bat stared at him in horror.
"Master," she whispered. "You... do nothing?"
Sekhmet murmured without moving his lips much.
"Stay quiet," he said.
Bat Bat’s ears flattened.
"No fight?" she repeated, scandalized.
Sekhmet did not answer her.
He simply allowed the first man to grab his arm.
Rough hands closed around him.
Pull...
They tightened the rope around his wrist.
Pull... pull...
They tried to yank him forward.
Sekhmet stepped when pulled, like a man surrendering.
The thugs smirked instantly, misunderstanding it exactly the way Sekhmet wanted.
"He’s scared," someone laughed.
"He remembers yesterday and now he knows," another said.
Bat Bat’s face tightened with offended rage.
She wanted to bite someone.
Sekhmet’s fingers brushed her wing lightly, a silent command.
Bat Bat froze.
Obedient, but furious.
The rope tightened.
The chain clinked.
Clink... clink...
They started dragging him through the lanes.
People watched.
Some grinned.
Some whispered.
Some placed bets quietly with chaos stones, because even cruelty became a sport down here.
Sekhmet let them pull him.
Because fighting here would be messy.
Because fighting here would waste time.
Because fighting here would attract the wrong eyes.
But if he let them take him—
He would find their hideout.
And a hideout meant a closed space.
A space where screams stayed inside.
A space where rules above the city did not reach.
A space where he could release his bats without restraint.
A space where he could feed properly and refill his chaos energy.
A space where he could turn enemies into useful pieces, not just corpses.
Sekhmet lowered his gaze again, acting weak.
Inside his mind, his plan unfolded with cold clarity.
Let them drag me.
Let them believe I am caught.
Then I will learn where their nest is.
Then I will open my wings inside their cave.
Then they will understand what it means to hunt a man who hunts them back.
Bat Bat stayed rigid on his shoulder, whispering only one thing, barely audible.
"Master... scary calm."
Sekhmet did not deny it.
He simply let them drag him deeper.
Tap... drag... tap... drag...
The underground swallowed the sound of his footsteps like it had been waiting to chew him again.
Sekhmet lowered his eyes further, acting weak.
One thug sneered.
"He is quiet," the thug said. "He is scared now."
Bat Bat’s wings twitched slightly, offended, but she forced herself to stay still.
Sekhmet’s expression remained blank.
He let them drag him through the underground lanes.
People watched.
Some laughed.
Some smirked.
Some looked away quickly, not wanting to be involved.
The underground market was full of spectators, but spectators did not help.
They simply enjoyed themselves.
The thugs dragged Sekhmet through a narrow corridor and into a lower tunnel.
The air grew damp. The stone walls narrowed. The torchlight became fewer.
They moved deeper.
Tap... drag... tap... drag...
Chains clinked again.
Sekhmet’s jaw tightened slightly, but he kept his face calm.
Bat Bat stayed quiet, unusually obedient, sensing the danger.
The tunnel opened into a larger underground chamber.
And that was where Sekhmet finally saw the real problem.
A man sat near the center, on a low stone seat, drinking from a metal cup like he was bored.
He did not look like a typical thug. His clothing was plain, but the fabric was high quality. His posture was calm, confident, controlled. He lifted his gaze slowly.
And the air felt heavier.
Sekhmet activated Blood Eye immediately.
Information appeared.
[Name: Raka.
Race: Human
Chaos Rank: 3
Overall Battle Power: 31,000]