Chapter 221: The Bloodlust
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Back to Sekhmet... The hall was empty, but it did not feel empty.
Three half-god true vampires stood across from Sekhmet like a verdict.
Elena stood beside him like a wall that had decided it was tired of being a wall and wanted to become a spear.
Elena spoke once, voice calm enough to insult them. "You are not taking him."
Sofia smiled, showing no fangs, which somehow made her worse. "We already did," she said softly. "The moment he made true vampires. The moment he breathed that blood oath into the world. He belongs to our problem now."
Natasha’s gaze did not leave Sekhmet. "Move aside," she said. "Or become a stain."
Alex did not speak yet. He took another step forward.
The sound was small. The pressure was not.
The hall’s air tightened around that single step as if reality itself had decided to watch closely.
Elena moved.
Not backward.
Forward.
She did not give ground. She did not ask permission. She did not posture. She lifted one hand slightly, palm open, and the air around her palm rippled like a thin sheet of water being pulled tight.
Sekhmet’s eyes narrowed. That was not normal chaos shaping. That was refined. It was controlled. It was older.
Elena’s voice remained steady. "Young master," she said without looking at him, "stay behind me."
Sekhmet did not argue. He did not like being told to stand behind anyone. But he had learned a second lesson in purgatory besides pride: survival sometimes meant letting a stronger shield do its job.
Elena stepped forward again.
Sofia laughed softly. "You are brave," she said, tone sweet. "Or foolish."
Elena’s reply was dry. "Both, depending on who is watching."
Then the first strike happened. It did not look like a mortal strike. It looked like space itself twitched.
Alex moved, and his motion was so efficient it seemed unfair. He did not swing wildly. He simply appeared close enough to Elena that the distance between them vanished. His hand came up, fingers slightly curved like claws. The air hissed as his aura compressed into his palm.
Elena met him with her open hand.
Their palms collided.
The impact did not create a loud explosion. It created a deep vibration that ran through the floor like a drum being struck under stone. Lantern flames flickered violently. Dust shook loose from the ceiling beams.
Sekhmet felt it in his teeth.
Elena did not retreat.
Alex’s eyes narrowed slightly, the first sign that he had expected her to crumble and she had not.
Then Sofia and Natasha moved at the same time, splitting apart like scissors closing. Sofia went left, Natasha went right, both aiming to bypass Elena’s centerline and reach Sekhmet.
Elena clicked her tongue as if annoyed.
She moved like a commander who had been waiting for the predictable flanking play.
Her left hand snapped outward.
A thin line of chaos energy formed in the air — not a beam, not fire, not lightning. An energy thread. A energy thread so fine it looked like pale glass.
It caught Sofia’s wrist.
Sofia’s eyes widened in amusement. "Oh," she purred.
Elena’s right hand snapped outward simultaneously, another energy thread catching Natasha’s ankle.
Natasha’s expression did not change, but her body halted for a fraction of a heartbeat, forced to respect the restraint.
Elena pulled both energy threads. Not to drag them fully. To disrupt their timing.
Sofia’s foot slipped half an inch.
Natasha’s shoulder shifted.
That half inch was enough.
Elena stepped into the center and struck upward with her knee, not at Alex, but at the air itself between them.
A shock pulse erupted.
Not a visible blast.
A pressure bloom.
Sofia and Natasha were forced to step back, and Alex’s posture broke just long enough for Elena to slide sideways and place herself directly in front of Sekhmet again.
Elena’s breath did not quicken.
But her shoulders tightened slightly now.
She was fighting three half-gods at once.
Even if she was far stronger than she appeared, three Vs one was not a joke.
Sekhmet’s fingers flexed, blood control instinct rising, but Elena’s presence near him was a warning: If you join now, you will die faster, and you will ruin this defense.
Alex moved again.
This time he attacked Elena’s throat.
His hand shot in like a knife.
Elena tilted her head just enough that his fingers grazed air, then she struck his forearm with the edge of her palm.
The sound was subtle, but Sekhmet saw Alex’s wrist angle shift, and he saw Alex’s eyes narrow again.
Sofia attacked the energy thread on her wrist with a surge of chaos energy.
The energy thread held.
For two breaths.
Then Sofia smiled and simply let her skin split.
Blood beaded along her wrist, and the energy thread slid off, falling away because it no longer had purchase.
Sofia’s eyes glittered as her wound healed instantly, flesh sealing like it had never been cut.
"Your tricks are cute," Sofia said.
Natasha’s ankle thread snapped under brute output a second later.
Then the two women moved again, this time not flanking separately, but coordinating with Alex.
Alex pressed Elena from the front.
Sofia attacked her left shoulder.
Natasha attacked her right.
Elena’s defense began to show strain. Her feet shifted more often. Her hands moved faster. She was still calm, but calm was becoming effort.
Sekhmet’s chest tightened. He could feel his own power clawing at his ribs, wanting to burst out, wanting to bite and drain and end this with teeth.
But he was still not strong enough. Not against three half-gods. Not without losing control.
A ripple touched the hall. Not from the vampires. From above. A presence. A hidden presence that had been watching with breath held tight.
The second floor balcony shadow shifted.
Then the air tore slightly, like reality moved aside for someone who owned it.
A figure stepped out. Not with a loud entrance... With inevitability.
Lady Seraphiel revealed herself.
She did not drop from above like the vampires did. She simply appeared at the edge of the balcony and then was suddenly on the floor, one step down, as if distance had been a polite suggestion she chose to ignore.