Chapter 19: Thirst That Water Cannot Touch III
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He leaned forward, and saliva glistened at the edge of his mouth.
Sekhmet’s throat went dry.
Not from fear.
From that deeper thirst that suddenly responded to the scent of blood and living flesh.
The system window flashed again, updating.
[Target Identified- Species: Human Werewolf (Null-born) Battle Power: 4,800]
Sekhmet’s eyes narrowed.
Four thousand eight hundred.
That was more than triple his battle power.
Not two times.
Not within Blood Puppet’s forced range.
Even if he wanted to use it, he could not force it.
Renn’s werewolf form took one slow step closer, claws scraping stone.
Scrrrrk
"You smell wrong," Renn growled. "You smell like blood and metal and something old."
Sekhmet’s jaw tightened.
"I smell like three weeks of chains and bad luck," Sekhmet muttered.
Renn’s lips peeled back.
He lunged.
Whoosh!
Sekhmet reacted instantly, forming Blood Sword. Blood gathered from the stains on his coat, from the dried smear under his nails, from the lingering wetness on his skin.
Shhhh!
A crude blade snapped into shape in his hand.
Sekhmet swung.
Whoosh!
The blade cut toward Renn’s chest.
Renn twisted, faster than Sekhmet expected. The sword grazed fur and skin, leaving a red line, but it did not slow him.
Renn slammed into Sekhmet like a boulder.
Thud!
Sekhmet’s back hit the stone. Pain flared. Air left his lungs in a harsh burst.
Hngh!
Renn’s claws flashed.
Slash!
Sekhmet raised his arm, blood sword catching one claw, but the other raked across his shoulder.
Riiip!
Pain burned.
Blood spilled.
Sekhmet’s vision blurred for a heartbeat.
Renn’s breath was hot and animal-like as it hit Sekhmet’s face.
"I will take your loot," Renn snarled. "And if I cannot take the space tool, I will take your body and search it until I find how it works."
Sekhmet’s chest tightened.
He shoved with his legs, pushing Renn back. The rings made his movement heavier, but the weight also gave him leverage. He rolled to the side and scrambled up, blood sword in hand.
Renn circled, low and confident.
Sekhmet’s breathing was rough.
His fatigue was still there.
Worse now.
His muscles ached. His stomach felt hollow. His throat burned with thirst.
He realized suddenly, with cold clarity, that the system was right.
Water did nothing.
This thirst was eating him from inside.
Renn lunged again.
Sekhmet swung.
Clash!
Blood sword met claw. Sparks did not fly, but red and grey streaked through the air as blood and fur collided.
Renn’s other claw struck Sekhmet’s ribs.
Thud!
Pain exploded.
Sekhmet stumbled.
Renn’s weight pressed into him, driving him down to one knee.
Sekhmet gritted his teeth.
He tried to use Blood Control, pulling at the blood in Renn’s wound from the earlier graze.
Blood Control!
The blood quivered slightly... then resisted, thicker than normal, pulsing with a wild energy that fought his will like a living beast.
Sekhmet’s eyes widened.
Werewolf blood is different.
It is stronger.
It does not obey easily.
Renn snarled and headbutted him.
Crack!
Sekhmet’s vision flashed white.
He tasted blood in his mouth. His own.
He coughed, and blood hit the stone.
Spat!
Renn’s eyes gleamed at the sight.
He leaned in as if he might bite.
Sekhmet’s instincts screamed.
Not because he feared being bitten.
Because the scent of blood made something inside Sekhmet rise like a starving animal.
The thirst tightened.
His tongue felt dry.
His throat felt too narrow.
His mind flashed images of blood, not as horror, but as relief.
Sekhmet’s stomach turned in disgust.
No.
I will not become that.
Renn’s claws tightened on Sekhmet’s shoulder, pressing him down.
Sekhmet’s blood sword slipped slightly.
Renn laughed, a rough sound like stones grinding.
Grrh... Ha...
"You are tired," Renn growled. "You are weak. You should have given me what I wanted."
Sekhmet’s eyes narrowed through pain.
"I gave you a living chance," he muttered. "It did not work. You will die now."
Renn’s snout moved closer, breath hot.
"I will kill you slowly," Renn whispered, voice full of greedy certainty. "Because I want you to feel it."
That was when Sekhmet’s body did something he did not plan.
It was not a strategy.
It was not a skill.
It was instinct.
His head snapped forward, and his mouth opened.
Sekhmet bit.
Hard.
His teeth sank into Renn’s neck, right under the jawline where the pulse beat strong.
Crunch!
Renn jerked back, shocked, a howl ripping out of him.
Auuuuugh!
Blood burst into Sekhmet’s mouth.
Hot.
Thick.
Alive.
It was not like water. It was not like food. It was not like anything Sekhmet had ever tasted, and yet his body recognized it instantly as the thing it had been screaming for.
The thirst did not fade politely.
It collapsed.
Like a starving man finally swallowing meat.
Sekhmet’s throat was swallowed without him deciding to.
Gulp!
The first mouthful hit his tongue with a metallic punch, copper and salt and something wild beneath it. It tasted like moonlight and rage. It tasted like running through forests and tearing prey apart. It tasted like life that refused to be civilized.
Sekhmet’s stomach clenched.
He almost vomited.
He almost pulled away.
Then his body drank again.
Gulp!
The thirst turned into need.
The need turned into hunger.
And the hunger turned into power.
Warmth surged through Sekhmet’s chest, flooding outward like fire spreading through dry grass. His muscles, which had been screaming from fatigue, suddenly loosened. The ache in his bones dulled. The tightness in his chest eased.
His vision sharpened.
His hearing sharpened.
He could hear Renn’s heartbeat thudding against his teeth.
Ba dum ba dum ba dum
Sekhmet’s eyes widened in horror.
I am drinking him...
I am actually—
Renn screamed and tried to rip Sekhmet off, claws striking Sekhmet’s back.
Slash! Slash!
Pain flared, but it did not slow Sekhmet the way it should have. The blood in his mouth made him feel... awake.
Renn punched him with a heavy fist.
Thud!
Sekhmet’s head snapped to the side, but he held on.
Renn’s blood kept flowing into him.
Gulp!