Chapter 219: A quiet Hall? II
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His vision sharpened. Information rose over Elena’s head. And Sekhmet froze seeing it.
Elena’s chaos energy was not the chaos energy of a head maid. It was compressed. It was dense. It was controlled.
The kind of control that came from surviving power for a long time.
[Name: Elena.
Race: Human.
Rank: ???
Overall Battle Power: ???
Status: High level concealment Tool Active.
Warning: Target’s power exceeds Blood Eye LV 1 readable threshold. ]
Sekhmet’s chest tightened. His Blood Eye could not read her. That meant only one thing.
Elena’s battle power was not just high. It was too high relative to him. He can see half god rank with his lv1 blood eye. So if he can’t see her rank. That means only one thing... her rank and battle power is much higher than half god. Maybe... a God level power.
His mind flashed back to the rule the system had given him at the gate months ago: when a target’s overall battle power was too far above his, the Blood Eye stopped showing numbers and replaced them with blank uncertainty.
Sekhmet stared at Elena, the anger in him sharpening into something colder.
"You," he said quietly.
Elena’s expression did not change. Because she doesn’t know Sekhmet used an appraisal skill on her. She answered, "Yes."
"You are wearing a concealment tool," Sekhmet said.
Elena’s gaze remained calm. "I might be. Why do you ask?"
"You have been hiding your power," Sekhmet said.
Elena did not deny. She needed to answer Sekhmet about the maid’s rank. So, she decided to tell him the truth. "Yes."
Sekhmet took a slow breath, forcing his voice to remain controlled instead of spilling out as fury.
"What happened in the last five years," Sekhmet asked. "While I was in purgatory. While I was training by my father’s order. While I nearly died multiple times. While the house was being attacked. What happened?"
Elena watched him in silence for a moment.
Then Sekhmet’s questions sharpened further, because anger wanted to find the center.
"Where is my father?" Sekhmet demanded to know.
Elena’s eyes narrowed slightly, not from hostility, but from caution.
Sekhmet pressed harder. "Tell me the truth. You, the maids, the concealment tools. Why? What are you not telling me?"
Elena’s voice stayed steady, but it lowered as if the hall itself had ears.
"Young master," she said. "This is not the time."
Sekhmet’s jaw tightened. "When is the time? After I die."
Elena’s gaze sharpened. "I sense danger. I am sensing some very strong killing intent."
Sekhmet almost laughed.
"Danger," he repeated softly. "Elena, the hall just had—"
He stopped. Because Elena’s posture changed by a fraction. It was not fear. It was recognition. A veteran recognition.
Her gaze flicked upward, not toward the doors, but toward the second floor balcony rails where private boxes overlooked the hall.
Sekhmet’s Blood Eye followed her gaze automatically. And then the air shifted.
Not like a person walking in. Like pressure falling. Like something heavy stepping into the room without using the floor.
Three presences dropped from above. Not stumbling. Not careless.
They landed with controlled silence, like predators who understood exactly how much noise they were allowed to make.
Thud!
Three figures land on the hall. A man with calm posture and eyes that looked older than the city.
A woman with silver hair that caught lantern light like a blade.
A woman with black hair and a gaze that felt like a quiet coffin.
Elena’s posture shifted first.
It was subtle, the way a mountain shifted when it decided an avalanche was allowed. One foot slid half a step forward, heel grounded, toes angled outward. Her shoulders relaxed instead of tensing, because tensing wasted energy. Her hands lowered to her sides, fingers loose, ready to snap into motion without telegraphing. The air around her changed. It did not explode. It condensed.
Sekhmet felt it like pressure against skin.
Elena was not just strong.
Elena was prepared.
Sekhmet’s Blood Eye remained active. Information rose instantly, clearer than it had been for Elena because these three were not hiding their nature in the same way.
And then the system chimed — three times, separate, individual, clear.
[Ding! Threat Detected.
Target Identified: Alex.
Race: Vampire.
Status: True Vampire.
Rank: Half-God.
Overall Battle Power: 98,400.]
A fraction of a breath later—
[Ding! Threat Detected.
Target Identified: Sofia.
Race: Vampire.
Status: True Vampire.
Rank: Half-God.
Overall Battle Power: 96,900.]
Then—
[Ding! Threat Detected.
Target Identified: Natasha.
Race: Vampire.
Status: True Vampire.
Rank: Half-God.
Overall Battle Power: 97,600.]
Sekhmet’s stomach dropped anyway.
Not because of the word Half-God. He had already seen half-gods. He had killed one once, in a room full of corpses, with no witnesses and no politics. But that half-god had been isolated. He killed it with the blood god will.
Now he didn’t have that power. These three were here for something. And each one was brushing with ninety-five thousand battle power like it was casual.
Sekhmet kept his face calm through sheer discipline. He did not let his mouth open. He did not let his shoulders rise. He did not let fear show, because fear invited predators to test how soft your throat was.
Inside, his mind counted options and found them thin.
Elena spoke first, voice quiet, steady.
"Leave," she said.
Alex’s eyes moved to her slowly, as if he had been looking past her until her aura finally became too obvious to ignore. His lips curved faintly, not warm, not amused.
"You are not a maid," Alex said.
Elena’s reply did not change tone. "I am a maid."
Sofia’s silver hair shimmered in the lantern glow as she leaned her head slightly, looking Elena up and down with open interest.
"You are lying. You smell... old," Sofia said softly, as if that was a compliment.
Natasha’s gaze stayed locked on Sekhmet instead. Her voice was calm and cold.
"The twins are not here," she said. "But their master is." Her eyes flicked to Sekhmet’s throat. "And the main source is standing in front of us."