Chapter 199: Midnight Theft VI
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The corridor filled with the sounds of bodies hitting stone. Reyan tried to back away from the treasury door. He had been standing near Dickon, protected by the invaders, but now that protection was collapsing. His eyes darted wildly, looking for an escape route that did not exist.
That was when Auri moved. She came from the upper arch behind him very silently. Her cloak slid back enough to reveal the edges of her wings, still folded but unmistakable.
Reyan turned and saw her. His face went white. "What the..."
Auri’s hand closed on his throat before his voice finished forming. She lifted him slightly, just enough that his shoes scraped the stone.
Reyan’s eyes bulged.
Auri’s voice was calm.
"You opened the vault," she said. "With your own key."
Reyan’s hands clawed at her wrist.
Auri did not care.
"You betrayed Dawn House," she continued. "And you brought enemies into the building you were paid to protect."
Reyan shook his head wildly, trying to force words through a blocked throat.
Auri leaned closer.
"You will breathe," she said. "Because the master will decide whether you deserve death."
Then she slammed him into the wall with a Thud! sound. Reyan slid down, gasping, his eyes were watering in pain.
Auri stepped on his wrist.
"Argh!" He screamed.
Auri’s gaze remained cold.
"Quiet," she said softly.
Reyan choked the scream down into a sob.
Sekhmet did not look at Reyan long. Not yet. He was still fighting.
The Rank Two fighters were the real danger now. There were still four of them active, moving together, trying to overwhelm him before he could pick them apart.
Sekhmet’s blood sword formed again. This time he did not rely on it like a normal blade.
He used it like a tool. He shaped it longer, thinner, then split the edge into two serrated blood edges.
When the first Rank Two swung, Sekhmet caught the blade with the blood sword’s side, letting it slide rather than collide.
Then he stabbed him. The blood sword pierced the man’s abdomen Shhk!
The Rank Two gasped.
Sekhmet pulled it out and immediately used blood control on the blood spilling from the wound.
The man’s own blood rose like a snake and wrapped his legs. He fell on his knees.
Sekhmet stepped over him and bit his neck. Blood surged warm and strong. His used up chaos energy refilled slightly.
His mind sharpened. He let go before death. He shoved the man aside.
A second Rank Two tried to stab him in the ribs from behind.
Sekhmet twisted to dodge the attack. The blade scraped his coat but did not find deep flesh.
Sekhmet’s elbow struck the attacker’s nose. Blood sprayed from the enemy’s nose.
Sekhmet grabbed the man’s head and slammed it into the wall. The man dropped too.
The third Rank Two tried to retreat, realizing this was turning into a massacre.
Sekhmet snapped blood threads around the man’s ankle and yanked. The man hit the ground hard.
Sekhmet stepped down on his wrist. The man howled.
Sekhmet leaned down and drank from his throat. He was not gentle. He was not cruel. It was efficient.
The fourth Rank Two hesitated. He looked at Sekhmet. Then at Vera and Vela holding the Rank Three. Then at Raka fighting the other Rank Three. Then at Raka’s men crushing Rank Ones like bugs.
The Rank Two’s mind finally understood the truth. This raid was not a victory. It was a fun game for them. He turned to run.
That was when Dickon Iron tried to slip away too. He was not brave. He was not loyal. He was not even smart enough to retreat early.
He moved only when fear finally pushed him. He shoved through two of his own men and headed for a side stair.
Sekhmet saw him. His eyes narrowed.
Dickon had come here thinking he would ruin Dawn House. But now it looks like he would not leave tonight with dignity intact.
Sekhmet moved. He did not chase like a wild beast. He walked towards him. But his speed made that walk feel like a closing door.
Dickon reached the stair and grabbed the railing.
Sekhmet’s blood threads snapped out and wrapped the railing first. The metal became slick with controlled blood.
Dickon’s hand slipped. He fell backward. The rang with the Wham! sound. He hit the stone hard enough to knock air out of his lungs.
Sekhmet stepped over him calmly.
Dickon tried to crawl.
Sekhmet grabbed his ankle and dragged him back like a sack.
Dickon’s nails tore against the stone.
"No!" he gasped. "You... you can’t—"
Sekhmet crouched and stared at him.
"I can," he said quietly.
Dickon’s eyes shook with panic. He tried to use his chaos energy, but his rank and his control were not enough under this pressure of sekhmet.
Sekhmet leaned close. Then he fed.
Dickon convulsed. His body went rigid. His arrogance died first. His fear followed.
Sekhmet drank until Dickon’s strength emptied out of him like spilled coins. Then he pulled away.
Dickon lay trembling, alive but broken, mouth opening and closing like a fish in air.
Sekhmet stood. Around him, the fight ended. Not because every enemy was dead. Because every enemy had been taken care of.
The Rank Two fighters lay scattered, wounded, pinned, drained, unable to run.
The Rank One rabble lay in piles, held down by Raka’s men, some begging, some unconscious, some staring in disbelief because they could not understand why their numbers had not saved them.
Vera and Vela held their Rank Three pinned between them like a trapped beast, blood threads restraining his throat and arms.
Raka’s duel ended a heartbeat later. The second Rank Three tried one final desperate strike.
Raka ducked it, stepped in, and drove his fist into the man’s belly. The Rank Three folded his body in pain.
Raka grabbed him by the hair and slammed his head into the wall.
The Rank Three dropped, stunned and breathing.
Raka turned toward Sekhmet immediately. His posture straightened.
"Master," he said.