Chapter 163: Hunger and Rules VI
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The second guard’s eyes widened slightly.
"That sounds like merchant exaggeration."
The first guard shook his head.
"Maybe," he whispered. "But the caravan captain swore at it. Said the ant god does not hoard strength. He spreads it. Like... like a plague of blessings."
The second guard muttered, "Blessings."
The first guard’s laugh was dry.
"In Null, blessings and curses look the same," he said. "Especially when they have claws."
The second guard lowered his voice even more.
"And his harem. They say he takes care of it."
The first guard nodded.
"Protects them," he said. "Rewards loyalty. Punishes betrayal. If someone touches one of his women, they vanish. Not killed in public. Not tortured in a cell. Just... gone."
The second guard swallowed.
"The upper domain is already hell," he muttered. "If there is an ant god building a kingdom up there..."
The first guard shrugged slowly.
"Then maybe the upper domain has a new god king," he said. "Or a new disaster."
At the main post, the masked guard ignored the gossip completely, like a professional pretending rumors did not exist.
But his halberd grip tightened slightly anyway.
Because even if rumors were lies, too many lies repeating the same name became something else.
A warning.
He raised his hand toward the gate.
"Final rule," he said.
All three halted.
The guard’s runes brightened across his armor.
"The Teleportation Association is managed under a low level god," he said. "Not a contract god. Not a city lord. A god. You are strong. You are half god. But you are not above association law. If you break corridor rules, the network records. If it records, the association investigates. If it investigates, judgement follows."
Natasha’s eyes flashed cold amusement.
"We are not idiots," she said.
Sofia smiled sweetly.
"But we are predators."
The guard did not respond.
He had learned long ago that predators loved reminding the world they had teeth.
He simply stepped aside.
And lifted his hand.
The rune plate between the pillars rotated faster.
A hollow sound echoed like gears shifting inside reality.
Then the gate opened.
Not like a door.
Like a cut.
Reality split into a thin corridor showing a different sky beyond it, a different pressure, a different smell.
The air tasted like travel.
Sofia stepped forward first, her heels not clicking, because she did not need to make noise to announce power.
Natasha followed, silent as a blade being drawn slowly.
Alex stepped last, calm and heavy, his gaze on the corridor like he was measuring the throat of a beast.
The world folded.
The sound vanished.
Returned as something distant, like thunder wrapped in cloth.
They emerged on a ridge where the wind smelled of dry stone and old blood.
This was still the middle domain.
But lower.
A shelf closer to the descent chain.
Teleport posts dotted the ridge like watchtowers, each guarded by association officers, each demanding payment, declaration, compliance.
This was why travel took weeks.
Not because teleportation was slow.
Because every gate was a checkpoint.
And checkpoints were controlled by gods, associations, and the kind of bureaucrats who could ruin your life with a stamp.
Sofia stretched her fingers slightly.
"How long," Natasha asked.
Alex did not look back.
"Three weeks if corridors stay open," he said. "Four if a border shelf is closed, or a registry city demands inspection."
Sofia’s smile widened.
"Four weeks is not long," she said. "Mortals become different people in that time. That is entertaining."
Natasha’s gaze hardened.
"Do not treat this like a vacation," she replied. "If the ripple was real, then others felt it too."
Sofia’s smile did not fade.
"I know," she said. "That is why we move."
Alex spoke calmly.
"Klaus wants the source," he said. "Alive if possible."
Natasha’s voice was quiet and sharp.
"And if not possible."
Alex’s answer was simple.
"Then we take what matters," he replied. "Blood."
They walked toward the next corridor.
Travelers nearby lowered their heads. Caravans pretended to tighten ropes. Guards stepped back half a pace.
Nobody wanted to be the person who made eye contact with half god predators and accidentally became a memory.
At the next teleport post, an older association guard scanned their declaration and paused again when he saw the destination chain.
"Slik region," he murmured.
Sofia’s eyes glittered.
"Yes," she replied.
The guard hesitated.
"The lower domain is unstable," he said. "There was a blood flare recently. A red pulse. Some say an original resonance appeared."
Natasha’s gaze snapped to him.
"You heard rumors."
The guard’s jaw tightened behind his mask.
"Teleport corridors hear everything," he replied. "Posts report. Records travel. Even a low level god likes knowing where storms begin."
Alex’s voice remained calm.
"Open the gate," he said.
The guard swallowed the rest of his curiosity and did his job.
The gate opened.
The world folded again.
Down.
Down.
Down.
And far below, in a city that did not yet know it was being stalked, a different predator stood beneath a roof with two new true vampires at his side, while the Teleportation Association’s corridor records quietly tracked the approach of three half god hunters moving toward an auction that would soon become a stage soaked in blood.
Three weeks later...
The corridor chains ended not with a dramatic battle, not with a heavenly choir, but with a dull administrative truth. A final teleport post. A final association stamp. A final ridge where the air stopped tasting like regulated passage and started tasting like the lower domain itself.
They stood on broken stone overlooking a wide, dirty stretch of land that sloped toward distant lights.
Slik region was ahead.
Not close enough to touch, not far enough to forget.
The last teleport post behind them was sealed. Not closed for the day. Sealed by jurisdiction. The Teleportation Association did not extend its corridor network into certain areas near Slik unless a special route was purchased, declared, and guarded. Too many gangs. Too many ambushes. Too many people who thought killing a traveler was easier than paying a toll.
Sofia stared at the sealed post and clicked her tongue softly.
"Three weeks," she said. "And now we walk."
Natasha’s expression did not change, but her eyes sharpened with quiet irritation.
"No teleportation," she replied. "The association is avoiding liability. They would rather let mortals die on the road than let their gate be blamed."
Alex looked toward the horizon.
His gaze was calm, but the calm carried hunger like a shadow.
"Seven to eight days by foot," he said. "If we move at mortal speed and do not burn attention. Less if we force it. More if the roads are watched."
Sofia smiled again, feline and amused.
"So we crawl like normal people," she murmured. "I almost miss being weak. It made everything simpler."
Natasha glanced at her.
"You never miss being weak," she said. "You miss having fewer consequences."
Sofia laughed softly.
"That is also true."
Alex’s fingers flexed once, and a thin red resonance thread shimmered between them again, trembling faintly, pointing toward the Slik direction like a needle toward a wound.
"The source is still there," Alex said. "Or the echo is still fresh enough to follow."
Natasha’s voice lowered.
"I am hungry," she said. "Let’s eat before going further."
Sofia’s smile thinned.
"Then we hunt until full," she replied. "And we find better prey."
They began walking.
Not rushed.
Not careless.
A slow advance across the lower domain’s open throat, where every mile was a place a knife could hide.
Then the world snapped back.
Time folded like a page turned the wrong way.
Back to three weeks earlier. Back to a candlelit room. Back to the moment Sekhmet was inside his room.
(Note: If you want to know more about Ant God Kai, check the book below.)