Chapter 72: 72: The Underground Rule III
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"You don’t know where you are," he said. "This is underground. You can’t—"
Sekht stepped closer.
"I know exactly where I am," he said quietly.
The second thug grinned, trying to regain control.
"Then you know the rule," he said. "Whatever happens here, stays here."
Sekht’s eyes narrowed.
"Yes," he replied. "So let’s keep it here."
The thugs realized too late that they had not found a hero.
They had found a hungry predator looking for an excuse.
They attacked together.
The knife thug lunged, bare hands now, chaos energy surging into his knuckles.
The second thug aid for Sekht’s ribs.
Sekht moved once.
He did not dodge wildly.
He simply stepped into their range like he owned it.
His fist hit the knife thug’s stomach.
BOOM!
The thug folded like a broken chair.
Sekht turned and struck the second thug’s throat with the edge of his hand.
CHOP!
The thug gagged, stumbling backward.
Sekht grabbed his collar and slamd him down onto the stone floor.
CRACK!
The thug’s head bounced once.
He went still, groaning.
The first thug tried to crawl away.
Sekht caught him by the ankle and dragged him back like luggage.
Scrrrk...
Bat Bat whispered excitedly, "Old bag drag."
Sekht ignored it. He crouched between them. His throat burned. His hunger surged. He activated his new control instinctively. He did not want ghouls.
Not here.
Not tonight.
He chose the outco.
"No infection."
The system did not need to speak. The choice settled into his blood like a switch being flipped.
Sekht leaned down and bit the second thug’s neck.
CRUNCH —Shhk!
Warm blood flooded his mouth.
The thug jerked, eyes bulging, then tried to scream.
It ca out as a choking gasp.
Sekht drank.
Relief hit instantly.
The burning in his throat eased.
The pressure behind his eyes softened.
His muscles felt steady, his mind sharpening like a blade being honed.
He swallowed once.
Twice.
Three tis.
Then he forced himself to stop.
He pulled back.
Blood dripped from his lips.
Drip...
He wiped it with his sleeve.
The thug shivered, still alive, pale and shaking.
Sekht leaned toward the other thug, who was now whimpering.
"Please," the first thug rasped. "I— I didn’t—"
Sekht’s eyes were cold.
"You did," he said.
He bit.
CRUNCH —Shhk!
Blood.
More relief.
More quiet strength.
He drank just enough. He stopped before death. He pulled back, breathing controlled.
Both thugs lay there, alive but ruined, staring at him like he was a nightmare they couldn’t wake from.
Sekht stood. He looked down at them.
"You will rember this," he said.
The second thug tried to speak.
Sekht stepped on his hand.
CRACK!
The thug scread.
Sekht leaned closer and spoke softly, so only they could hear.
"If you try to rob anyone again," he murmured, "I will not stop next ti."
He lifted his foot.
Bat Bat stared at the two thugs with interest.
"Can I eat," Bat Bat asked.
Sekht shook his head.
"Not here," he said. "We are not leaving bodies."
Bat Bat pouted.
"Bat sad," it muttered.
Sekht walked away, blending back into the crowd, leaving the thugs shaking in a shadow corner with their pride ripped out.
No one stopped him.
No one cared.
In the underground market, violence was a language. Sekht had spoken it fluently.
He moved deeper into the market, hunger eased but not gone. It would never be fully gone. Not anymore.
Bat Bat rode his shoulder, eyes wide with fascination.
"Many stall," Bat Bat whispered. "Many shiny."
Sekht nodded slightly.
He had been here once as a child. That mory felt like a blur compared to what he saw now.
The underground had grown.
Expanded.
It was not just a black market.
It was an ecosystem.
Weapon stalls with blades that humd faintly.
Potion stalls with liquids that glowed too brightly to be safe.
Beast cages with creatures snarling in darkness.
Information brokers sitting behind curtains, selling secrets like candy.
A stall selling fake identities.
A stall selling real ones.
Sekht passed a table where a goblin was selling "authentic god-bone fragnts."
A custor squinted.
"How do I know it’s real," the custor asked.
The goblin shrugged.
"You don’t," he said. "That’s why it’s cheap."
Sekht’s mouth twitched.
Bat Bat whispered, "Honest goblin."
Sekht murmured, "That is rare."
He found himself near a section where the crowd was quieter, voices lower. Here, the goods were not loud. They were expensive, dangerous, or both. He saw a man selling nightmare-grade materials.
A woman selling beast cores in sealed jars.
A masked figure selling sealed contracts with unknown terms.
Sekht’s blood eye flickered across them, but he kept his gaze subtle. In places like this, staring could be interpreted as interest, and interest could be interpreted as weakness.
He rembered Uncle Ben’s old warning.
Do not stare.
Sekht did not stare. He observed like a predator.
Bat Bat, unfortunately, had no such discipline.
It leaned forward, eyes shining, and whispered loudly, "That man has three eye."
Sekht hissed under his breath, "Quiet."
Bat Bat blinked.
"I whisper," it argued.
"You whisper like a shouting child," Sekht muttered.
Bat Bat looked offended again.
"I learn," it said proudly. "Child shout. I do too."
Sekht sighed and kept walking. He did not want to buy anything tonight. He wanted to understand.
He wanted to map the underground in his mind the way he mapped forests.
Because he knew sothing important. His father had left him with business. Business ant enemies.
Enemies ant trouble. And trouble often began in places like this.
He turned down a narrower corridor, where lanterns hung lower and the walls were closer. The crowd here was thinner, faces more secretive. The stalls looked older, less polished.
Sekht’s instincts prickled. He slowed, letting Bat Bat’s ears catch sound.
Bat Bat whispered, "Quiet place. Good for... sneaky."
Sekht nodded once.
Then he saw it.
A small shop tucked between two cracked stone pillars. Its sign was old wood, nearly black with age, carved with a symbol that looked like a droplet and a fang.
No loud vendor shouting.
No bright lanterns.
Just a faint red glow behind a cloth curtain.
Sekht stopped. His throat tightened again, not from hunger alone.
From recognition.
Blood.
He stepped closer.
The sign’s letters were faded, but readable if you looked carefully.
Blood, Sold.
Sekht’s eyes narrowed.
Bat Bat leaned in.
"The shop sll good," it whispered.
Sekht’s gaze fixed on the curtain.
He felt sothing strange then, sothing he hadn’t expected.
Not fear.
Not excitent.
Suspicion.
"Who sells blood in the underground."
He had always assud blood was sothing you spilled, not sothing you bought.
But in Null, everything could be a commodity if soone was desperate enough to sell it and soone greedy enough to buy it.
Sekht stood before the curtain, listening.
No footsteps inside.
No chatter.
Just silence.
A deep, waiting silence. He lifted his hand. His fingers hovered inches from the cloth.
Bat Bat held its breath.
Sekht’s eyes hardened. "Let’s check what is inside," he said before he stepped inside the blood shop.
Bat Bat added, "Let’s go. I sll good thing. I feel hungry."
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