Chapter 111: 111: The Hungry Street V
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And the room, filled with laughing criminals and clinking chains, did not realize they were about to beco food.
The first knife moved.
Not fast. Not efficient. Not to kill.
It moved the way cruel people always moved when they believed they owned the mont — slow enough to enjoy it.
Shing...
The blade caught torchlight and threw it across the damp stone walls. The thug holding it grinned, leaning close to Sekht’s face as if they were sharing a secret.
"You know," the thug murmured, voice thick with smug excitent, "I like quiet ones. Quiet ones break best."
Another man laughed behind him.
Ha... ha... ha...
A third clinked the chain again, just to hear it.
Clink... clink...
The torture rack waited like a hungry skeleton, tal arms spread, shackles open, ready for wrists and ankles. The bucket of dirty water sat at its base, surface trembling from footsteps like it feared what it might have to wash away.
Bat Bat trembled on Sekht’s shoulder, but she did not whine. Her tiny fingers dug into his coat. Her eyes were wide and sharp.
"Master," she whispered, voice tight. "Now?"
Sekht lowered his gaze, still acting weak, still acting resigned.
But the mont the first thug reached for his jaw to force his head back—
Sekht moved.
It was not an explosion.
It was not rage.
It was precision.
Wham!
His forehead slamd forward into the thug’s nose.
Crack!
The sound was wet and satisfying. The thug stumbled backward, screaming, hands flying to his face.
"Aaagh!"
Blood sprayed onto Sekht’s cheek.
Hot.
Fresh.
Alive.
The sll hit Sekht like a slap.
His throat tightened. The hunger inside him stirred like a chained beast hearing keys.
Bat Bat’s nostrils flared.
"Mmm," she whispered involuntarily, then snapped her mouth shut, offended at herself.
The other thugs froze for half a heartbeat. That was all Sekht needed.
He twisted his wrists.
The rope burned his skin, but the pain was nothing compared to the mory of chains. Compared to weeks of helplessness. Compared to tal biting his bones and leaving him hanging like at.
Sekht yanked hard, using chaos strength through his body.
Snap!
The rope didn’t break cleanly — cheap fiber tore in angry strands.
He stepped forward, grabbed the nearest man by the throat, and slamd him into the rack’s tal fra.
Clang!
The rack shuddered. The man gagged, eyes bulging.
Sekht didn’t waste ti. He lifted his knee and drove it into the man’s stomach.
Thud!
The man folded, coughing, and spit flying.
Bat Bat sprang off Sekht’s shoulder like a tiny arrow.
Zip!
She hit another thug’s face with both feet.
Smack!
The thug yelped in shock, stumbling back.
"What the—!"
Bat Bat landed, wings flaring, tiny teeth bared.
"Bat Bat bite!" she announced proudly, as if she had been waiting her whole life for this exact sentence.
She lunged and bit the man’s elbow through his clothes.
Chomp!
The thug scread like his dignity had been murdered.
"Aaah! What is that!"
Bat Bat shook her head violently, trying to tear through leather like it was at.
"Bad guy!" she hissed. "Bad taste!"
Sekht did not look at her. He did not smile. He kept moving.
A chaos rank one thug —a bigger man with confident shoulders— stepped forward from the group, eyes narrowing, finally taking Sekht seriously.
"Enough," he growled.
He raised his hand. Chaos energy flickered around his fist like a heavy glove.
Boom... boom...
The thug punched toward Sekht’s head.
Sekht tilted.
The fist passed close enough that the wind tugged Sekht’s hair.
Sekht’s hand snapped out and grabbed the thug’s wrist.
Grip.
The thug tried to pull back.
Sekht didn’t allow it.
He stepped in, close, and delivered a short punch directly into the thug’s throat.
Thud!
The thug gagged, eyes widening.
Sekht twisted the wrist hard and shoved the thug’s arm down.
Crack!
The elbow bent the wrong way with a sick sound.
The thug howled.
"Aaagh!"
The room erupted.
"Kill him!"
"Break his legs!"
"Hold him down!"
Boots thundered as n rushed forward. The fifty moved like a wave, chaotic but eager.
Sekht inhaled once.
Not to calm himself.
To decide.
He could fight with fists and Blood Control alone, but that would drag out and risk mistakes. He wanted dominance. He wanted fear. He wanted them to panic.
He wanted space.
He wanted control.
He wanted to feed without dying.
So he chose the mont.
Sekht’s mind reached into the void land.
Not loudly. Not like a dramatic spell. Just a command like opening a door in his own house.
The air behind him rippled.
Fwoom...
A dark oval ford like a wound in space.
The void land gate.
The thugs froze again.
"What is that—"
Sekht’s voice remained flat.
"Co out," he said softly.
Wings exploded into the room.
Fwoosh —Fwoosh— Fwoosh!
Twenty-plus blood bats burst out first, a storm of shadows with red eyes. They did not scream. They did not roar. They sward silently like living smoke.
The thugs scread anyway.
"Aaah!"
"My eyes!"
"Get them off!"
The bats dove, not to kill, but to blind. Claws raked across cheeks. Wings slapped faces. Tiny fangs pinched skin just enough to sting.
Bat Bat cackled.
"Hee hee!" she laughed, delighted. "Fly chaos! Fly!"
Then the six rare bats erged.
They were different.
They did not flap wildly. They moved like disciplined killers, wings smooth, eyes intelligent, bodies thicker with strength. Their battle power was higher. Their aura felt heavier.
Fwoom Fwoom Fwoom Fwoom Fwoom Fwoom!
They spread into a formation without being told, circling above Sekht like a living crown of wings.
The thugs hesitated, suddenly uncertain.
Because this was not one man anymore.
This was a small army.
And Sekht still hadn’t shown the most dangerous blade he had.
One thug tried to rush Sekht through the swarm, face covered with his sleeve.
Sekht lifted his hand.
Blood Control.
The blood from the broken-nose thug still sprayed and dripped onto the stone floor.
Sekht pulled it upward.
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