Dawn Walker-Chapter 149: Next Step II

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Elena did not stop being angry. Her eyes narrowed. "Who attacked you," she asked.

Sekhmet did not answer quickly, which was answer enough.

Elena’s gaze softened for half a breath, not because she was no longer angry, but because she understood. There were questions that could not be asked in a room full of servants and a bat child who treated secrets like candy.

Elena glanced around, and a servant near the entrance bowed and retreated quickly, sensing the invisible order in Elena’s eyes.

Elena lowered her voice.

"Are you injured," she asked.

Sekhmet lifted his hands slightly, showing he could move. He did not show her the bruising under his shirt, the faint puncture marks, or the place where the poison still tugged inside him.

"I am fine," he said.

Elena’s eyes remained skeptical.

"You are standing," she replied. "That is not the same as fine."

Bat Bat nodded vigorously.

"Yes," she agreed. "Standing and fine is different. Elena teaches Bat Bat this. If Bat Bat stands on the table, Elena says not fine."

Elena looked at Bat Bat.

Bat Bat immediately stopped nodding and stood very still like a statue trying to avoid being noticed.

Sekhmet shifted the conversation.

"The girls," he said.

Elena’s focus snapped back.

Her expression became controlled again, professionalism returning like armor.

"They are settled," Elena said. "Mira was given a guest room in the east corridor. She requested paper and ink. I gave her both."

Sekhmet nodded once. That sounded like Mira.

Elena continued.

"The twins were offered separate rooms," she said. "They refused."

Bat Bat perked up again, curiosity returning.

"Twins," Bat Bat whispered loudly. "Two same girls. Like a copy. But different smells. How."

Sekhmet ignored Bat Bat.

Elena’s tone stayed calm.

"They insisted on sharing," she said. "They said they have been alone too long to sleep separately now."

Sekhmet’s gaze sharpened slightly. That was not only stubbornness. That was trauma wearing pride as a disguise.

"Good," Sekhmet said. "Let them share."

Elena studied him again, still unhappy about the blood, but choosing not to push.

Then Sekhmet turned to Auri.

"Auri," he said.

Auri bowed slightly.

"Yes, master," she replied.

"Return to void land," Sekhmet said.

Auri paused for a fraction of a breath, a tiny hesitation that only someone bonded to him would notice. Not because she disobeyed, but because she was worried.

"You are certain," Auri asked quietly.

Sekhmet did not show the poison’s cold tug. He did not show the way his chaos energy was not as full as it should be after feeding.

"I am certain," he replied.

Auri nodded, accepting.

"As you command," she said.

Sekhmet extended his hand and opened the void land.

The air beside him rippled, then split like a curtain pulled aside. The void opening was darker than the hall’s shadows, a smooth oval of night that did not reflect light. The edges shimmered faintly, like reality itself disliked being cut open.

Bat Bat’s eyes widened.

"Master door," she whispered, delighted. "Door goes to bat home."

Elena did not react outwardly, but her gaze stayed on the void opening with the calm of someone who had already accepted that her young master was no longer normal and that she would simply adapt or die of stress.

Auri stepped forward without hesitation. Before she entered, she glanced at Sekhmet again. Her eyes carried a question she did not ask.

Are you safe?

Sekhmet answered with his calm face.

Yes, he said. With his eyes.

Auri bowed once more, then walked into the void. The opening swallowed her silently.

Sekhmet closed it with a flick of his fingers, as if he had only shut a door.

Bat Bat sighed dramatically.

"Auri go," she said sadly. "Auri is serious. Always serious. Bat Bat like Auri. But Auri is boring sometimes."

Elena finally let out a small breath, as if removing one worry from her mental list.

"Now," Elena said, looking at Sekhmet again, "remove that coat before it stains my floor."

Sekhmet almost smiled, but he did not allow it. He removed the coat slowly, folding it with the same disciplined neatness he used with everything he owned, as if the act of folding could erase the blood.

Bat Bat leaned closer, sniffing.

"It smells like outside trouble," she said.

Sekhmet glanced at her.

"That is accurate," he replied.

Bat Bat looked proud again, as if being accurate was a trophy. Then her eyes drooped. Her excitement faded like a candle losing oxygen.

Bat Bat’s wings sagged slightly. She yawned, loudly, the kind of yawn that demanded attention like a speech.

"I am sleepy," Bat Bat announced.

Elena’s eyes sharpened.

"Good," Elena said. "Sleep is important when your brain is finally growing."

Bat Bat gasped.

"You say my brain is small," she accused.

Elena remained calm.

"I said your brain is growing," Elena corrected. "That is different."

Bat Bat blinked, confused by the logic.

Sekhmet watched Bat Bat carefully.

Her cheeks were fuller now. Her eyes had more focus. She was not just reacting anymore. She was forming sentences, making connections, even if those connections sometimes ran through chaos.

He could feel her progress through bond, a subtle shift in the link, like a plant that had suddenly found better soil.

He did not speak about the system. He could not. Instead, he did what a merchant did. He checked the progress quietly.

Inside his mind, the system responded without sound.

[Ding. Bonded Unit Progress Check.

Name: Bat Bat

Growth Progress: 40%

Note: Cognitive development accelerating. Obedience stability improving. Literacy training increases mental resistance and reduces feral regression risk.]

Sekhmet’s gaze remained neutral outwardly. But inside, something eased.

Forty percent.

That was not slow. That was frighteningly fast.

He looked at Elena.

"You did well," Sekhmet said.

Elena paused.

Her expression softened slightly, just enough to show she was pleased, but not enough to become sentimental.

"I am doing my job," Elena replied.

Sekhmet nodded.

"I can feel she learned," he said. "Continue."

Bat Bat’s eyes widened.