Chapter 165: Ghouls and numbers II
---
He had tossed him into the void land like throwing trash into a pit and had not thought about him again.
It had not even been that long.
A little over one week. Not two weeks yet.
"Why does he look like that?"
Sekhmet’s jaw tightened.
Auri turned when she sensed him close.
"Master," she said quickly. "We found the ghoul you asked us to find."
Sekhmet’s eyes did not leave the starving creature.
"I can see that," he replied quietly.
Auri’s voice lowered slightly, respectful, but urgent.
"He was hiding," she said. "Not because he was smart. Because he was weak. The bats sensed him by smell. He has been... deteriorating."
Sekhmet stared at the ghoul again. He activated Blood Eye. The world shifted. Information rose.
But the information was not the part that disturbed him. What disturbed him was how empty the ghoul felt.
Like a candle that had almost burned to the wick.
Then the system spoke inside his mind, answering what he had not even asked aloud.
[System Analysis.
Target: Ghoul – Starvation State Detected.
Cause: No Blood Intake Since Conversion.
Status: Severe Malnutrition.
Estimated Survival Without Feeding: 2–3 Days.
Note: Ghouls Require Regular Blood Intake to Sustain Core Animation]
Sekhmet’s eyes narrowed.
He glanced at the one-armed ghoul standing nearby.
The system responded before he even needed to ask.
[Secondary Analysis.
Target: Ghoul – Missing Limb.
Status: Stable For Now.
Risk: Starvation Will Occur Without Regular Feeding.
Estimated Survival Without Feeding: 5–7 Days.
Recommendation: Establish Feeding Schedule]
Sekhmet exhaled slowly. He did not like this feeling. It was not guilt. It was an annoyance with himself.
Because he had forgotten something basic. He had created servants. And servants needed fuel. He had treated them like disposable tools.
But a disposable tool that died before it was useful was not even a tool.
It was a waste.
"Ah," Sekhmet muttered, rubbing his forehead. "I forgot about that."
Auri’s eyes remained steady. She did not accuse him. She did not add anything sharp. She simply waited, because she knew what mattered was what he did next.
Sekhmet stepped forward and crouched beside the starving ghoul.
The ghoul’s eyelids twitched faintly.
It sensed him.
Not by sight.
By blood.
By the bond of creation.
Its mouth moved like it wanted to speak, but only a dry rasp came out. It could not form words. It barely had enough strength to move air.
Sekhmet’s expression stayed unreadable.
He reached into the void land’s stored space where his blood minions kept the leftovers from feeding, the thick dark clots and preserved blood sacs harvested earlier. They were not clean. They were not noble.
But they were blood.
And blood was life here.
He grabbed one of the preserved blood packs and held it near the ghoul’s mouth.
The ghoul’s head shifted weakly.
Then its mouth opened wider with sudden desperate hunger.
It latched.
Not like a gentleman.
Like an animal.
It drank the blood.
Slow at first.
Then faster.
Sekhmet watched closely, his eyes cold and attentive.
The ghoul’s body trembled as the blood entered. Color did not return, not fully, but the death-pale look eased slightly. The tightness around the eyes loosened. Its fingers curled weakly, then clenched.
Auri’s posture eased by a fraction.
The bats fluttered softly, as if relieved the problem had a solution.
Sekhmet did not speak until the ghoul finished enough to stop shaking like a dying insect.
Then he pulled the blood pack away and stood.
The ghoul pushed itself slightly upward, not fully, but enough to show it was alive again.
It lowered its head. Not a bow of respect learned from culture. A bow of instinct.
Gratitude expressed through posture because its mind was too broken for speech.
Sekhmet stared at it for a moment.
Then he turned and walked toward the one-armed ghoul.
That ghoul was not as far gone, but its aura was already thin. Its missing hand made it look more pathetic than dangerous, but Sekhmet knew better.
A ghoul that survived long enough could become a soldier.
A ghoul that died now was just a lesson.
Sekhmet tossed another blood pack toward it.
The one-armed ghoul caught it clumsily against its chest and began drinking immediately, jerking its head like a dog tearing at meat.
Sekhmet’s gaze shifted to Auri.
Auri met his eyes calmly.
"Master," she asked, "what should I do with them?"
Sekhmet’s voice was flat.
"You need to feed them," he said. "Time to time. If you want them alive."
Auri nodded without hesitation.
"Yes, master," she replied.
Sekhmet exhaled slowly and looked around the Void land again.
There was nothing here except what he brought.
Bats.
Ghouls.
A girl / harpy bat living with them by circumstance and loyalty. He had put Auri in this place to look after it.
But living without structure became another kind of prison.
Sekhmet’s mind turned. He needed order. He needed a system inside the system.
And that meant names. Or numbers...
Names make you attached. Names made you hesitate. Numbers made you efficient.
And he would need efficiency if he was going to turn criminals into food and soldiers the way he planned.
Sekhmet spoke to himself first, then let the thought become a decision.
"It would be better to give them numbers," he said quietly. "Instead of names."
Auri’s eyes sharpened with understanding.
"Numbers," she repeated softly. "What numbers?"
Sekhmet nodded once. "I will give them numbers to remember."
He looked at the robber ghoul again, the one still recovering on the ground, breathing like a corpse that had been given an extra week.
"This one," Sekhmet said aloud, pointing slightly. "He is number three."
The ghoul’s head twitched at the sound of attention.
It did not understand the concept of numbers, but it understood it was being assigned something.
Sekhmet turned slightly toward the one-armed ghoul.
"And you," he said, voice calm. "You are number four."
The one-armed ghoul froze for a heartbeat, then bowed awkwardly, like a puppet trying to copy respect.
Auri listened carefully.