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Two came from the left, swinging clubs. One came from the right with a dagger.
Sekhmet moved back, keeping the boulder at his side so he was not surrounded. He swung his blood sword in a wide arc, forcing distance.
Whoosh!
A club hit his shoulder. Pain flared, but the rings kept his body grounded, heavy, stable, refusing to let him be knocked off balance easily.
Sekhmet gritted his teeth, turned, and slammed his elbow into the scavenger's throat.
Thud!
The creature gagged.
Sekhmet drove the blood sword into its chest.
Shhk!
The scavenger froze, then collapsed.
The bat on Sekhmet's shoulder shrieked.
"Batbatbatbat."
Sekhmet almost flinched.
"Not helpful," he hissed.
The dagger-wielding scavenger darted in, fast. Sekhmet raised his arm, and the dagger cut his sleeve, nicking skin. Blood welled instantly.
Sekhmet's eyes narrowed.
He did not like bleeding.
He also realized bleeding was now a weapon.
He twisted his wrist and used Blood Control to pull his own blood outward. A thin thread shot from his cut like a whip.
Snap!
It wrapped around the scavenger's wrist.
Sekhmet yanked.
The scavenger stumbled forward, shocked.
Sekhmet smashed his forehead into the creature's face.
Crack!
The scavenger dropped like a sack.
Sekhmet's breathing grew rough. His body was still weak, and every movement burned. The rings did not help. They made everything harder, but they also forced his muscles to work, forcing his chaos body to endure.
The leader scavenger, the one with battle power 2,700, roared and charged with a heavy cleaver. It swung at Sekhmet's head with a savage arc.
Sekhmet ducked, felt wind pass over his hair, then stepped inside the leader's guard. He drove the blood sword upward.
Shhk!
The blade pierced the leader's belly.
The leader froze, eyes wide, then looked down at the wound like it could not believe reality had done this.
Sekhmet leaned in close, voice low.
"I would apologize," he said, sarcasm bitter, "but I am thirsty."
He clenched his fist and activated Blood Control harder.
The leader's blood surged outward in a violent rush.
Shhhh!
The scavenger gurgled and collapsed, cleaver falling from limp fingers.
Clang!
The remaining scavengers hesitated, fear flickering in their eyes. They had expected prey. They had found something else. Something that fought like hunger.
Sekhmet stepped forward, blood sword raised.
"Leave," he said coldly.
The scavengers looked at each other.
One decided to be brave.
It charged.
Sekhmet sighed and cut it down with one clean swing.
Shhk!
The last scavenger turned and ran, shrieking into the rocks.
Skreek!
Sekhmet did not chase. Chasing wasted energy and invited ambush. He let it go, watched it disappear, then turned toward the prisoner.
His blood sword dissolved, dripping back onto his hand and vanishing into his skin.
Shhhh!
Sekhmet wiped his palm on his coat and immediately regretted it because his coat was already a crime scene.
He approached the prisoner, crouching down.
The man looked up weakly. He was older than Sekhmet expected, maybe in his twenties, but hard living in purgatory made age difficult to judge. His face was bruised, his lips cracked, his eyes sharp with survival.
He stared at Sekhmet like he was not sure whether to thank him or fear him.
Sekhmet spoke first.
"Can you walk," he asked.
The man swallowed.
"Maybe," he rasped.
Sekhmet cut the rope with a scavenger dagger and pulled the man up carefully. The prisoner hissed in pain but stayed on his feet.
Sekhmet pointed at the water skin.
"Drink," he said.
The man hesitated.
Sekhmet's eyes narrowed.
"If I wanted you dead," Sekhmet said, voice flat, "you would already be dead."
The man nodded and drank greedily.
Gulp! Gulp!
Sekhmet took the skin next and drank too. The water tasted slightly metallic and warm, but it was water. It didn't soothe his throat like a blessing. There was something missing.
He handed it back and looked at the camp quickly, looting without ceremony. He took the chaos stones pouch, the cleaver, the dagger, and anything that looked useful. Then he thought of the Store and tossed it all into Void Land. He also took a dead body.
Whooomp!
The items vanished.
The prisoner's eyes widened.
"What was that," he whispered.
Sekhmet did not answer yet. He did not trust strangers enough to explain miracles.
Instead he asked, "Where am I?"
The man swallowed and wiped his mouth.
"You are near the Ash Ridge," he said. "This is lower purgatory land. Orc caves are not far behind. If you came from there…"
Sekhmet's eyes narrowed.
"How long since the orc tribe last raided," Sekhmet asked carefully.
The man blinked.
"Benimaru," he repeated.
Sekhmet's stomach tightened. "Yes."
The man's expression turned wary, then fearful.
"That half-god orc," he said. "His tribe raided three weeks ago. They took people. They took stones. They took…"
He glanced at Sekhmet's blood-stained coat and fell silent.
Sekhmet's chest tightened.
Three weeks.
So I was chained for 21 days, not months, not years.
That was good and bad. Good because time had not slipped away completely. Bad because it meant his father's five years still mattered, and he had wasted precious weeks being trapped and nearly possessed.
Sekhmet asked, "Where is the nearest city?"
The man's eyes flicked to the east.
"Slik," he said. "But you cannot reach it quickly from here. The road is broken, and beasts hunt. Even if you walk hard, it will take you a few months, maybe longer."
Sekhmet nodded slowly.
"Good." He thought.
He needed to train.
He needed to understand his system.
He needed to heal.
He needed to figure out why gods were sending him gifts like he was someone important.
Sekhmet glanced up at the sky. The dark-winged predator still circled far above, watching.
He looked back at the man.
"What is your name," Sekhmet asked.
The man hesitated, then said, "Renn."
Sekhmet's Blood Eye flickered, appraising.
[Human Scavenger Runner-
Battle Power: 2,300
Status: Injured. Exhausted.
Note: Null-born mortal. Chaos purity low.]
Sekhmet studied him.