Chapter 110: The Hungry Street IV
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Sekhmet’s chest tightened. His mind went cold for a second. A chaos rank three.
Here...
Leading these small-fry thugs.
He had miscalculated badly. He had assumed the gang was low-level. He had assumed he could handle them.
He could not handle Raka.
Not directly.
Not with 16k battle power.
Even with Bat Bat, even with Auri, even with his bats, even if he turned them into Ghouls. Raka alone was too high.
Raka looked at Sekhmet like Sekhmet was a piece of meat brought to him.
He smiled slowly.
"Ah," Raka said. "So this is the one."
The thugs shoved Sekhmet forward.
Thud.
Sekhmet stumbled slightly, then steadied.
Raka’s gaze moved to Bat Bat on Sekhmet’s shoulder.
A faint interest appeared.
"A bat," Raka murmured.
Bat Bat’s ears flattened. She did not like the way he looked at her.
Raka’s gaze returned to Sekhmet.
"You like beating my people," he said calmly.
Sekhmet did not reply.
Raka chuckled softly, then waved his hand.
"Beat him," he ordered casually, like ordering a drink. "Cut his legs. Cut his hands. Throw him back into the street so everyone sees what happens when someone touches Raka’s property or people."
The thugs grinned. Some cracked knuckles. Some pulled out knives.
Shing...
Sekhmet’s throat tightened. Not from hunger now. From tension.
Raka leaned back slightly, as if finished with the matter. But then he paused. He looked upward, as if listening to something unseen.
A communicating stone near his belt vibrated faintly.
Buzz... Buzz...
Raka clicked his tongue.
"Annoying," he muttered.
He stood up. His presence grew heavier, like the room’s air bent around him.
"I have a meeting," Raka said, voice flat. "Underground market association."
The thugs stiffened. They respected him. They feared him.
Raka’s gaze stayed on Sekhmet.
"I will not waste my time torturing you," he said. "My men can handle it. When I return, I want you broken. If you are still breathing, I might finish what remains."
Then he smirked slightly, as if that was amusing. He stepped forward, then leaned close enough that Sekhmet could smell the metal scent of his cup.
"You look disappointed," Raka murmured.
Sekhmet’s voice stayed calm.
"I was hoping you would stay," he replied.
Raka laughed, actually amused now.
"You have spirit," he said. "Good. It will make your screams louder."
Then he turned and walked away, escorted by two higher ranked men. Both of them were the strongest aside from Raka.
He disappeared into a side tunnel.
The moment Raka left, Sekhmet’s chest loosened slightly.
Hope appeared.
Not because the situation became safe.
Because the greatest threats were no longer present.
The thugs did not notice Sekhmet’s subtle shift. They were too excited.
Without Raka watching, they became more cruel, more playful, more eager to prove themselves.
One thug grabbed Sekhmet’s hair and yanked his head back.
"Now," the thug said. "We cut first."
Sekhmet remained still. Inside his mind, his plan changed instantly. He could not fight Raka.
But he did not need to fight Raka right now.
He only needed to survive until he could escape this hideout, or until he could create enough chaos to feed and grow stronger.
He activated Blood Eye again, scanning the thugs. He forced himself to memorize numbers quickly.
There were fifty of them.
He counted by presence and movement, by posture and chaos energy, by the confidence in their eyes.
Ten plus were chaos rank one. Their battle power was over 10k. They stood slightly apart, the stronger ones, the ones who acted like minor commanders.
The rest were between 4k and 9.9k.
Still dangerous in numbers. Still enough to kill a careless man.
But Sekhmet was not careless anymore.
He had Bat Bat. He had Auri in the void land. He had six rare bats. He had twenty-plus bat minions. He had Blood Control. He had his Blood Sword. He had Blood Summon.
He had Blood Puppet, though he could not use it freely yet.
He had hunger...
And hunger made him creative. He looked down slightly, acting weak, acting resigned.
The thugs laughed.
"He is not even begging," one thug said.
"Maybe he thinks he is still strong," another mocked.
A third thug slapped Sekhmet’s cheek lightly.
Smack.
"Look at me," the thug said.
Sekhmet lifted his eyes. He stared at the thug with calm coldness.
The thug flinched slightly. Then he laughed louder to cover his discomfort.
They dragged Sekhmet toward a metal frame in the room, a torture rack used by people who enjoyed pain like entertainment.
Knives were laid out on a stone tray.
Shing... shing...
A bucket of dirty water sat nearby.
Bat Bat’s body trembled slightly on Sekhmet’s shoulder.
She whispered, voice small.
"Master," she said. "We fight now?"
Sekhmet did not answer aloud. He only blinked once, slow, controlled.
The thugs began preparing. One tested a blade’s sharpness with his thumb.
Another tightened the chains.
Another rolled up sleeves, smiling like a butcher.
Sekhmet’s mind worked fast. He formed the plan quickly. He did it in layers.
First, he would let them get close. He would let them think he was helpless.
Second, he would break the first chaos rank one thug quickly, to create fear.
Third, he would release the bat swarm, not to kill, but to blind and distract.
Fourth, he would summon Auri and the six rare bats at the moment they least expected it, because surprise was worth more than raw power.
Fifth, he would feed. He would feed enough to refill his chaos energy. He would feed enough to push his blood awakening forward.
He would not drain everyone. He would keep some alive. He would create options.
And if Raka returned—
Then Sekhmet would not fight him directly.
He would escape into the void land if needed, even if it cost him time and energy. He would survive.
Because survival was always the first step.
The thugs stepped closer, smiling, ready to begin.
Sekhmet lowered his gaze one last time. Then, behind that calm face, his eyes sharpened like a blade being drawn.