Dawn Walker Novel Chapter 108: The Hungry Street II

Chapter 108: 108: The Hungry Street II

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A carriage rolled by too slowly, its driver pretending not to look at anyone. A pair of cloaked figures stood at a corner stall that sold nothing, speaking in murmurs like prayers. Even the stray dogs here did not bark. They watched. They learned.

Sekht reached the sa warehouse door as yesterday.

The sa place.

But the guards were different.

Not the lazy "half-drunk" act from before. Tonight, the n standing there had their backs straight and their hands visible on purpose. Their eyes were too steady. Their breathing too calm. Their posture scread that soone had warned them.

They recognized him the mont the torchlight hit his face.

One guard’s gaze flicked to Sekht’s shoulder.

To Bat Bat.

Then back to Sekht again.

No greeting.

No joke.

Just a slight shift of weight, like the man was ready to run or stab depending on which order ca first.

Sekht did not slow.

He did not bargain.

He simply produced the entrance coin again and placed it into the guard’s palm without ceremony.

Clink.

The guard closed his fist around it imdiately.

For a heartbeat, Sekht wondered if the guard would block him just to prove power.

But the man stepped aside.

Fast.

Too fast.

Like he wanted Sekht to go down as soon as possible.

The door opened with a familiar groan.

Creak...

Warm air rolled out from below. Not warm like comfort. Warm like bodies packed too close and torches burning too long.

Bat Bat’s nose twitched hard.

Her claws tightened slightly on Sekht’s coat.

"Sa hole," Bat Bat muttered.

Sekht’s lips twitched faintly.

"Yes," he replied.

They descended, but Sekht kept his senses sharper than yesterday. He did not look around with curiosity this ti. He looked around like a man walking into a place that might already be waiting to swallow him.

The underground market’s sound hit him before the full view did.

A heavy hum of voices.

Coins clacking.

A distant argunt.

Soone was laughing too loudly.

Soone crying behind a curtain and trying to make it sound like a joke.

The torches seed brighter tonight, or maybe the crowd was thicker. The air felt heavier, saturated with too many lives pressed together.

And the mont Sekht stepped off the last stair—

He felt it.

The eyes.

Not casual glances.

Not curiosity.

Attention.

Focused.

As if his arrival had been announced without words.

Sekht did not react outwardly.

He only adjusted his pace slightly and let his gaze drift forward, calm and unbothered.

Bat Bat’s nose twitched again, faster now.

Her ears lifted sharply.

"Many sll," she whispered. "There are many bad slls."

Sekht murmured, without looking down.

"Find

the worst," he said.

Bat Bat’s ears lifted, then lowered again, as if she rembered sothing unpleasant.

Tonight was not like the first ti.

Last ti, Sekht had walked these stone lanes as a visitor. Curiosity had been on his shoulders. Hunger had been in his throat. He had tested the market like a man tapping ice to see if it cracked.

But yesterday’s blood did not vanish.

It stayed.

It stayed in people’s mories. It stayed in gossip. It stayed in fear. It stayed in the bruises and bite marks on the n he had left alive.

It stayed in the underground, like a sll that never truly aired out.

Bat Bat sniffed, then stiffened. Her small wings twitched. Her gaze turned toward the lane ahead, not excited now, but cautious.

"Master," Bat Bat whispered, voice smaller than usual. "Bad sll... know you."

Sekht did not answer imdiately. His eyes swept the crowd without appearing to sweep. He kept walking at an ordinary pace, like a man who did not care.

But his senses were sharp.

Too many faces looked away too quickly.

Too many shoulders angled to block sightlines.

Too many people suddenly found reasons to stand near exits and corners.

The underground market was loud, but there was a pattern beneath the noise.

A pattern of waiting.

His boots sounded calm on stone, but his mind asured every step.

Bat Bat sniffed again, then leaned forward on his shoulder, like a hunting hound catching a trail.

"There," she said softly.

Sekht followed her gaze.

Not two thieves. Not a simple robbery.

It was a cluster of n standing too still, pretending to browse a stall that sold broken blade hilts. Their posture was wrong. Their hands were hidden. Their eyes were focused.

And Sekht recognized them.

Not all, but enough.

A man with a swollen cheek that had not healed properly.

A man whose neck still had a faint band of dark bruising, like soone had bitten him and stopped halfway.

A man whose lips looked pale, as if his blood had not fully returned.

They were the ones from before.

They had survived.

And survival had made them hungry for revenge.

Bat Bat’s voice dropped even further.

"Yesterday n," she whispered. "They hate."

Sekht’s expression did not change, but sothing cold settled behind his ribs.

Of course.

He had fed on them. He had humiliated their group. He had left them alive as a warning, as potential ghoul candidates, as options.

But options worked both ways.

He had given them ti to breathe.

And breathing gave criminals ti to plan.

Sekht kept walking anyway. He did not retreat. He did not turn. He did not summon.

Because if he reacted too early, the net would tighten faster.

He needed to see the whole trap. He rounded the next corner. And the trap revealed itself.

A line of n stepped out into the lane ahead, blocking it cleanly. Their feet spread, their shoulders relaxed, the way trained fighters stood when they were confident. On the rooftops of stalls, silhouettes appeared one after another, crouched like carrion birds, watching down. Behind him, the crowd shifted, and suddenly the lane he ca from was no longer empty.

It was filled.

Not ten.

Not fourteen.

Not a revenge group with one leader.

This ti, it was an organized force.

Bat Bat’s claws tightened into Sekht’s coat.