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Clang! Clang! Clang!
Metal cried out below the ridge, and the sound did not echo like ordinary noise. It echoed like panic. Like desperation. Like the kind of clashing that only happened when people stopped fighting to win and started fighting to not die.
"Aaaaaah!"
Another scream tore through the basin, sharp enough to make Sekhmet’s spine tighten. Dust rose in bursts where boots and bodies struck stone. The wind carried the sour scent of sweat and fear, and underneath it, the darker smell of blood being spilled in the open.
Sekhmet remained still behind the stone crack, half-hidden in shadow, nightmare coat blending into the rock’s darkness. Bat Bat hovered near his head, wings barely making a sound, eyes glittering with the childish excitement of a creature that thought all danger was just another form of entertainment.
Below, the formation was breaking.
Ten escorts, backs tight, trying to keep their circle, trying to protect the one person in the middle. Their blades flashed with disciplined rhythm, their movements trained, their breathing controlled — until a mistake happened. Until a monster slipped through. Until discipline became pain.
Sekhmet’s gaze stayed locked on the girl.
She moved with frightening grace, and not the soft grace of someone dancing. It was the controlled grace of someone who had been trained to survive. Her blade carved through air with a clean whistle, and each swing carried chaos energy that left faint streaks like pale lightning.
Whoosh!
A humanoid raider beast lunged at her from the left, and she pivoted, stepping with her heel like she was stamping the ground into obedience.
Shhk!
Her sword cut the beast’s forearm nearly off. The creature screamed and stumbled, and one of the escorts finished it with a thrust to the throat.
Shhk!
But their victory lasted one heartbeat, because the monsters pressed again. Their numbers were not endless, but their confidence was. They fought like creatures who had done this many times before — ambush, swarm, exhaust, then let the leader carve the final piece.
And the leader had stepped forward.
Thud... Thud...
The larger humanoid’s cleaver dragged lightly at its side, scraping stone, leaving sparks as if the weapon itself was impatient.
Scrrrk... Ting...
It was not in a rush.
It did not need to be.
It carried eight thousand battle powers like a crown.
Sekhmet’s jaw tightened.
"I should leave."
The thought came fast and cold, like the part of him that had learned survival without feelings. He had made a rule. Avoid anything over five thousand. He had another rule too, even heavier than the first. Do not gamble against numbers you cannot measure.
Eight thousand was a gamble.
Eight thousand could mean death.
Eight thousand could mean being forced to drink in front of strangers, losing control, revealing weakness, revealing secrets.
Sekhmet’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the girl again.
Something about her face tugged at the back of his mind. Not recognition yet, but familiarity. Like a scent that reminded you of a place you forgot you missed.
Her profile, when she turned, caught the moonlight.
High cheekbones.
A sharp, determined mouth.
Eyes that were not frightened even when surrounded.
His chest tightened.
"Why does she look like someone I used to know?"
Sekhmet’s focus sharpened. He activated Blood Eye, aiming it at her from the ridge.
The world crisped, as if invisible lines snapped into place.
[System notification-
Name: Lily
Race: Human
Overall Battle Power: 4000]
The name hit him like a stone thrown into still water.
Lily.
Lily.
The sound rang inside his mind and did not fade. It echoed against old memories and forced them to wake up.
Sekhmet’s throat went dry.
"Lily..."
A girl’s laughter, bright and annoying.
A courtyard in Slik where he used to pretend he did not want to play.
A child following him like a shadow with no shame.
"You promised!" a young voice had shouted once, furious and dramatic. "You promised you would not leave without me!"
He remembered her cheeks puffed in anger. He remembered her hair tied up too tight by servants. He remembered her small hands grabbing his sleeve as if she could anchor him to the ground.
He remembered being twelve.
He remembered her being there every time his father did business with the city lord. He remembered her showing up with snacks stolen from the kitchen and insisting they were "war rations."
He remembered her skinny frame, short height, the way she ran too fast and tripped over her own feet and then blamed the ground for being rude.
He remembered the day she left.
"She went to study," someone had said.
"She will come back stronger," someone else had added.
He had not seen her since.
Then he had gone to purgatory to train.
And time had passed.
Not normal time, but enough time to reshape bodies and voices and faces.
He had been in purgatory for four years and ten months.
If Lily had left to study at twelve, and if she returned after seven years—
Sekhmet’s eyes narrowed.
This could be her.
The girl below was not skinny anymore. She was tall enough to command space. Her body was shaped by training, strength hidden under smooth movement. Her face still carried traces of the child he remembered, but it had matured into something dangerously beautiful.
Not the kind of beauty that begged for attention.
The kind that attracted trouble.
Sekhmet’s gaze moved to the escorts.
He appraised them quickly, one by one, flicking Blood Eye through the formation.
[Slik City Guard
Overall Battle Power: 3000]
[Slik City Guard
Overall Battle Power: 4100]
[Slik City Guard
Overall Battle Power: 4500]
[Slik City Guard
Overall Battle Power: 3700]
More.
All within the same range.
City guards.
Not random escorts.
Not mercenaries.
Slik did not escort random girls into purgatory with ten trained guards unless she mattered.
Sekhmet exhaled slowly through his nose.
"Sigh..."
Bat Bat hovered closer, peeking around the rock like a nosey child.
"Help?" Bat Bat asked, voice small but clear now.