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"Now is not the time," she said.
The captain accepted it with a stiff nod, the way a soldier accepts an order that tastes bitter.
His gaze flicked to Bat Bat.
"And that," he said, tone cautious, "is that your pet."
Bat Bat straightened like he had been insulted by existence itself.
"Pet," it repeated, offended.
Sekhmet answered before Bat Bat declared war on the city.
"It is my summon," Sekhmet said.
Bat Bat nodded proudly.
"Summon," it repeated, then added, "Not a pet. Pet is... small dignity."
The captain stared.
The guard beside him coughed to hide a laugh.
The captain cleared his throat.
"Enter," he said, waving them through.
The gate swallowed them.
And the moment Sekhmet passed under the arch, the city swallowed him too.
Noise hit first.
The city was alive in layers.
Markets shouting.
Beasts snorting.
Carts rattling.
Vendors arguing.
Guards barking orders.
Children running.
Someone played a flute badly enough that it sounded like the instrument was in pain.
A smell of cooked meat and spices mixed with the sharp metallic scent of chaos stones. The streets were paved with dark stone, worn smooth by centuries of feet. Tall buildings crowded both sides, with balconies and hanging banners and narrow staircases climbing like vines.
As they walked deeper, Sekhmet used Blood Eye again, calmer now, tasting the city with his gaze.
A lion-man merchant:
[Overall Battle Power: 5200]
A small goblin pickpocket trying to pretend he was invisible:
[Overall Battle Power: 300
Status: hungry, desperate, stupid]
A wolfkin guard at a corner post:
[Overall Battle Power: 6800]
"So the city is full of teeth," Sekhmet thought. "Just not always visible ones."
Bat Bat stared everywhere at once.
"Many humans," it whispered.
Sekhmet muttered, "Try not to announce that only humans exist."
Bat Bat nodded solemnly.
"Human exist quietly with others," it promised.
Lily’s mouth twitched.
They reached a fork in the main road where a statue of a warrior god stood, one hand raised, the other holding a spear. The statue’s eyes were carved to look stern enough to judge you for breathing.
Lily stopped.
Sekhmet stopped too.
She faced him.
For a moment, the city noise faded behind her expression.
"Your house is not far," Lily said quietly.
Sekhmet nodded.
"And your mansion is in the other direction," he replied.
Lily’s eyes searched his face. There was something she wanted to ask, something she had been holding for the last month.
About the blood smell.
About the strange storage.
About what happened to her guards.
About why Sekhmet sometimes stared into space like he was listening to someone else.
But she did not ask.
Not here.
Not in the street.
She took a breath.
"I will go home," she said. "My father will be furious."
Sekhmet’s lips twitched slightly.
"He should be," he said. "You vanished into purgatory."
Lily huffed.
"Do not sound like him," she warned.
Bat Bat leaned in.
"Furious father," it whispered like it was collecting story points.
Lily crouched and scratched Bat Bat under the chin.
"You behaved," she said.
Bat Bat puffed up proudly.
"I scout. I pee. I learn."
Lily blinked. "You... pee! Don’t pee in the city."
Sekhmet cleared his throat.
"It’s a tactical habit," he said quickly. "He isn’t serious."
Lily stared at him like he had just described warfare with bodily fluids.
Then she stood and looked back at Sekhmet.
"Sekhmet," she said softly.
He met her gaze.
Her eyes were serious now.
"Do not disappear," she said. "You always do that. Even when we were children, you would walk away into your own head and vanish."
Sekhmet’s chest tightened slightly.
He gave a small nod.
"I will not," he said.
Lily studied him for a heartbeat longer, then stepped back.
"I will see you soon," she said.
Sekhmet nodded.
"Soon."
She turned and walked away, blending into the city’s flow like she belonged to it.
Sekhmet watched her go for a moment, then turned toward the route to Dawn House.
He began walking.
The closer he got, the more the streets changed. The chaos of the market district faded into cleaner stone, wider roads, and buildings that looked less improvised. Guards wore better armor. Merchants spoke in quieter voices. Even the air smelled less like fried meat and more like perfume and polished stone.
Dawn House sat at the end of a street lined with old lanterns.
It was not a mansion like the City Lord’s place.
But it was not small.
A tall, dignified building with pale stone walls and a crest above the gate: a rising sun carved into a circle, with a thin blade underneath.
The Dawn crest.
Sekhmet stopped in front of the gate.
For a heartbeat, he just stood there.
Five years.
Purgatory.
Chains.
Blood.
Monsters.
A system voice.
Two ghouls vanishing into the deep.
And now...
Home.
Bat Bat fluttered down and perched on the gatepost.
"This is your nest," it asked.
Sekhmet stared at the building.
"My nest," he repeated quietly.
He stepped forward and knocked.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The gate opened almost immediately.
A young servant girl peeked out.
She looked about seventeen, hair tied in a neat ribbon, apron clean, posture proper.
Her eyes landed on Sekhmet.
They widened.
Then it widened more.
Then she screamed.
"AAAAAA—!"
Sekhmet flinched.
Bat Bat flapped in alarm.
"Attack," it shrieked.
The girl spun and ran inside.
"HE’S BACK! HE’S BACK! LORD SEKHMET IS BACK!"
Sekhmet stood frozen for a heartbeat, then muttered.
"So that’s how we greet each other now days."
Footsteps thundered from inside.
TapTapTapTap!
The gate swung fully open.
And then the fan girls arrived.
Not literally fan girls with fans, but it felt like it.
Three young servants rushed out first, eyes shining like they had spotted a hero returning from legend. One of them clutched a broom like it was a spear. Another had flour on her cheek like she had sprinted out of the kitchen mid-war. The third had a tray in her hands and did not stop running, which meant the tray items were making risky life choices.