Chapter 61: Dawn House
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The grassland rolled like a green sea under the morning sun, and for the first time in a long time, Sekhmet felt the world breathe normally.
No damp rot. No dead-tree bitterness. No purgatory stench that clung to skin like guilt.
Just wind, sunlight, and the distant sound of people arguing over absolutely everything.
Chatter Chatter!
Ahead, the city walls rose like a cliff carved by civilization. They were not simple stones. They were layered stone, reinforced with metals and runes that shimmered faintly in daylight like heat on a blade. Watchtowers jutted up at regular intervals, each crowned with banners that snapped in the wind.
Flap... flap...
Bat Bat circled overhead and made a sound that was half squeak, half victory trumpet.
"Wall big," it declared.
Lily smiled without looking away from the gate. Her posture had changed since they left the forest. The wild tension in her shoulders had softened into something sharper and cleaner. This was her territory. Not safe, but familiar.
Sekhmet’s eyes stayed on the gate.
A massive arch of dark stone and metal, high enough for siege beasts to pass through. The gate doors were open, but the gap was controlled by guards in polished armor and city-runed cloaks. Lines of travelers stretched across the grassland and wound like a river of bodies into the city’s mouth.
But it was not only humans.
Null never belonged to one race.
In the line ahead, a horned beastkin couple argued while balancing a crate of glowing chaos fruit. Their tails lashed like irritated whips.
A tall lizardman with gold piercings tried to convince the guard that his "emotional support crocodile" was not a threat. The crocodile in question wore a ribbon and looked offended to be reduced to a mental health accessory.
A moth-winged woman hovered slightly above the ground, fanning herself with her own wings and complaining loudly that the sun was "too bright for civilized beings." She said it while glowing like a lantern.
Behind them, a muscular humanoid boar with a tusked grin dragged a cart full of iron scrap and shouted at a skinny goblin riding atop it like a king on a throne.
"Stop moving my cart with your tiny feet," the boar growled.
"I am not moving it," the goblin snapped. "The cart is rolling because your ego has a slope."
Somewhere in the line, a baby cried.
A merchant yelled louder than the baby.
A vendor somehow yelled louder than the merchant.
Two old women —one human, one cat-eared— argued about the price of dried serpent meat like they were negotiating the fate of the realm.
"Three stones," the human woman insisted.
"Three stones is robbery," the cat-eared woman hissed.
"It is dried serpent," the vendor complained. "It costs me my dignity to sell it."
"Then sell your dignity cheaper," the cat-eared woman said sweetly.
Sekhmet stared at the chaos and felt the city’s truth settle into his bones.
The wilderness tried to kill you loudly.
The city tried to kill you while arguing about it.
They joined the line.
The moment Sekhmet stepped among the crowd, eyes turned.
Not because he was famous.
Because he looked like he crawled out of a nightmare and forgot to return the nightmares after borrowing them.
His coat was old, though less pathetic now with the nightmare-grade coat and boots beneath it. Still, there were stains that water could not fully erase, and his posture carried the quiet sharpness of someone who had learned to sleep with one eye open.
Bat Bat landed on his shoulder like a bright red badge of strangeness.
Lily walked beside him, head held high.
Recognition spread in ripples.
Whispers followed.
"Slik guard escort."
"Is that... Lady Lily?"
"She’s alive? I heard she went into purgatory."
"She did. Look at that man. He looks like he ate purgatory."
Bat Bat leaned toward Sekhmet’s ear.
"They stare," it whispered.
Sekhmet muttered, "Because you are a red bat the size of a thumb."
Bat Bat puffed up.
"Thumb big," it insisted.
Sekhmet’s gaze remained forward, but his mind was already working.
"Gate runes. Scanners. Stones. Eyes that count value."
His blood eye skill would help here.
He activated it.
The world sharpened.
Lines of information flickered over heads like invisible tags.
Not everyone. Not perfectly. But enough.
A wolfkin hunter with scars across his muzzle:
[Overall Battle Power: 3400]
A slender snakewoman with jeweled bracelets:
[Overall Battle Power: 2700]
A pair of young humans carrying a wagon of supplies:
[Overall Battle Power: 800]
[Overall Battle Power: 620]
Sekhmet’s eyes moved calmly, measuring the crowd without looking like he was measuring.
"So this is what it feels like to watch so many at once. No combat stone. No touching. Just... knowing."
He glanced toward the guards.
They were not uniform in power, but they were all dangerous enough to make the line behave.
[City Guard: 2100]
[City Guard: 3800]
[Gate Sergeant: 6200]
[Gate Captain: 9100]
Sekhmet’s mind catalogued it instantly.
"Two to ten thousand. The gate is not a place for weaklings."
He let his eyes keep moving.
That was when he saw the man in the cloak.
He stood near the side of the gate arch, not in line, not arguing, not complaining. His posture was relaxed, almost bored. His hood covered his face, but the air around him felt... wrong. Not hostile.
Just heavy.
Sekhmet activated his blood eye on him.
The line of information appeared—
Then shattered.
[Overall Battle Power: ???]
Sekhmet’s breath caught slightly.
His eyes narrowed. He tried again.
Still....
[???]
He spoke inside his mind without moving his lips.
"System. Why can’t I see his battle power?"
The answer came instantly, calm as always.
[Ding! System Response
Target exceeds host perception threshold.
When the target’s overall power is many times greater than the host, appraisal fails and returns ???.
Recommendation: avoid prolonged observation.
Note: Level two blood eye might detect the battle power.]
Sekhmet’s throat tightened.
"Many times greater."
His mind snapped back to the corpse in the orc room.
Benimaru.
The half-god.