Chapter 337: The Meeting VI
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Elena’s posture changed by one invisible degree, which was enough to tell anyone who understood violence that house manners had just reached their edge.
Before the fight, Sekhmet checks his status window to compare with Mihos.
[Name: Mihos Dawn
Race: Human. (Dawn Blood Noble)
Status: Active combatant.
Chaos Rank: Five.
Chaos purity: 70 percent.
Overall Battle Power: 58000
Chaos Energy: 30000
Chaos Body: 28000
Threat Assessment: Middle.]
Vs
[Status Window
Host: Sekhmet Dawn
Race: Human
Location: Slik City.
Overall Battle Power: 32000
System Note: Host has removed training suppression. The host’s combat power is active.
Chaos Energy: 16000
Chaos Body: 16000
Chaos Energy Purity: 14%
Blood Awakening: 5%
Blood Proficiency: 0/100
Skills-
Blood Control Lv2
Blood Sword Lv1 (Can transform blood into a sword for now)
Blood Eye Lv2 (Appraise items and beings. Can now see more detailed information and low-rank god status)
Blood Summon Lv2 (Summon blood minions using blood. Stronger blood = stronger summon. Minimum summon battle power: 1000. Rare summons can evolve into Harpies)
Blood Puppet Lv2 (Slots 0/3. Cannot betray master. Forced conversion if target battle power is not more than 2x host. Stronger targets require willing acceptance)
Vampire Creation Lv3 (True Vampire Slots 3/10. Eligible Targets: Female only. Loyalty: Absolute. Growth: Blood feeding. Can turn any female into a true vampire if the target is not more than 2x stronger than the host. Same and lower rank targets can gain up to 3-rank push. Rank 4 targets gain up to 1-rank push)
Brood Line Authority (Unlocked under Vampire Creation Lv3: Each true vampire created by the host may create up to 10 lesser vampires. Lesser vampires obey their direct creator and host Sekhmet as superior bloodline master)
Blood Eye Level 2: Active
Vampire Creation Shared Slot Restriction: Removed
Blood Regeneration Lv1 (As long as the host’s brain and heart remain intact, the host can regenerate body parts using Chaos Energy. Speed and scale depend on wound severity and skill level)
Active Bloodline Notes-
True Vampires Under Host:
Vera
Vela
Lily (Transform in Cruoraphim)
Lesser Vampires:
Raka (Chaos rank 3) and 101 people.
Ghouls: 04
Bats: 50+
Bat harpies: 01
Rare: 12
Normal bats: 38+]
Before Sekhmet barely read the first part of the status window.
Mihos moved first. Not with a charge. With a decision.
He lifted one hand slightly without looking away from Sekhmet and said, "Stand back. No one interferes."
The command cut through the camp at once. Guards who had already begun shifting weight toward weapons froze in place. The mounted men reined their beasts in by instinct. Even the nearer servants retreated without being told twice. Mihos’s voice carried the kind of authority that had spent years being obeyed before anyone around him had fully grown into their own bones.
Then his mouth curved in a smile that held no humor.
"I will judge your worth myself, low-born."
Bat Bat made a tiny offended noise.
Elena did not look at her, but her left hand moved by less than an inch.
Bat Bat understood.
Silence.
Good.
Sekhmet’s gaze did not leave Mihos.
He spoke without raising his voice.
"You heard him."
That was to Elena. To the maids. To Bat Bat. To Kess. To anyone on Mihos side who might mistake the next few breaths for an invitation to prove loyalty with foolish movement.
"No one interferes. I want to see whether the heir can match his arrogance with strength."
That landed too.
Not in the camp guards.
In Mihos.
The heir’s eyes sharpened at once.
Both of them had chosen their ground now. Not the road. Not the camp. Not even the old Dawn name hanging invisibly over the meeting. The true ground had become much simpler.
Pride.
Rank.
Strength.
And which one would crack first.
Mihos took one step forward.
Sekhmet took one too.
The road between them vanished.
There was no theatrical opening. No shouted skill name. No grand announcement for the guards and beasts to remember later.
They simply collided.
The first exchange came so fast that Kess almost missed it.
Mihos’s hand moved in a direct strike toward Sekhmet’s throat, fingers half curved, the knuckles already wrapped in dense Chaos force. Not a noble slap. Not a testing touch. A real opening blow from a man who had never needed to posture before hurting others.
Sekhmet moved inside it by instinct and training both. His shoulder turned. His body narrowed. The strike missed by inches, and he countered immediately with a palm aimed under Mihos’s ribs.
Mihos twisted just enough.
The blow landed.
But not well.
Not as well as it should have.
That difference hit Sekhmet instantly.
The body was there. The angle was right. The force was real. But when his palm met Mihos’s side, it felt like striking through a hidden second layer. Not armor. Not ordinary reinforcement. A density of Chaos made so clean that it behaved like structure rather than force.
Purity.
Sekhmet knew it at once.
Mihos’s Chaos purity was monstrous.
The heir smiled as if he had read the recognition from Sekhmet’s bones and answered with his knee.
Thud.
Sekhmet got his forearm down in time, but the impact still drove hard enough into the block to send force up through his elbow and across his chest. He gave ground half a step. Mihos did not let the distance breathe. He followed with a straight right hand covered in condensed Chaos, the knuckles not glowing brightly, but polished by internal force until the night around them seemed to sharpen where they moved.
Sekhmet slipped left.
The punch missed his face by a finger’s width and tore through the air with enough violence to make Bat Bat gasp behind him.
He countered at once.
A blood thread snapped from his fingertips and whipped toward Mihos’s wrist, meant to bind, redirect, and open a cutting path toward the throat.
It touched.
Then shattered.
Not because the technique was wrong.
Because Mihos’s Chaos coating tore through it like hot iron through spider silk.
The realization struck harder than the failed thread itself.
Not ordinary superiority.
Purity superiority.
Mihos’s Chaos was not simply more. It was cleaner, tighter, better refined by a ridiculous margin.
Seventy percent.
Against Sekhmet’s fourteen.
The difference was obscene.