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Sekhmet's eyes flicked down for a heartbeat, then up again.
He looked toward Renn.
Renn sat in the shadows under the overhang, silent, watching Sekhmet with an expression that was too still. His eyes were not the eyes of a grateful man. They were the eyes of someone counting profit.
Sekhmet's instincts whispered something unpleasant.
He has been waiting.
He has been watching.
He knows I have something valuable.
Sekhmet's jaw tightened. He did not want to believe it. He did not want to admit that saving someone could immediately become a mistake. But in purgatory, kindness was often a weapon someone used against you.
Sekhmet did not speak yet.
He simply watched.
The night deepened.
The moon rose.
It was not a friendly moon. It was too bright, too white, hanging in the sky like an eye that refused to blink.
Renn's posture changed under the moonlight.
It was subtle.
His shoulders relaxed, but not like a man resting.
Like a man preparing.
He inhaled deeply through his nose, and his eyes gleamed faintly.
Sekhmet's fingers flexed.
His body was still weak, but the system's warning had sharpened his mind like fear did.
Renn spoke at last.
His voice was different now.
Less tired.
More certain.
"Funny," Renn said softly.
Sekhmet kept his tone neutral. "What is funny?"
Renn's mouth curved, not into a smile, but into something close to one. "You saved me."
Sekhmet stared at him. "Yes."
Renn nodded slowly, as if agreeing with a lesson. "And you showed me something you should not have shown a stranger."
Sekhmet's gaze sharpened. "I did not show you anything."
Renn's eyes flicked toward the place where the shadow residue had been stored, toward the empty air where things vanished.
"You stored it," Renn said. "Right in front of me. Like I was blind."
Sekhmet's jaw tightened.
Renn leaned forward slightly, voice dropping into a whisper that still carried weight.
"Do you know how much a shadow beast core fetches," Renn said. "Do you know how much the residue sells for in Slik."
Sekhmet did not answer.
Renn continued anyway, greed warming his words.
"Even if I do not get the residue," Renn said, "the story sells. The rumor sells. A man carrying shadow material sells."
Sekhmet's eyes narrowed. "So this is about money."
Renn laughed softly.
Ha…
"Everything is about money," Renn said. "Even survival. Especially survival."
Sekhmet's body tensed.
He had known this was coming the moment Renn's eyes had begun flicking toward his hands.
Still, the disappointment hit him like a bitter taste.
"I regret saving you," Sekhmet said quietly.
Renn nodded, as if that was reasonable. "I would regret saving me too."
Then Renn stood.
The motion was smooth, controlled, and far too confident for an injured scavenger runner.
Sekhmet's Blood Eye flickered instinctively.
[Human Scavenger Runner.
Battle Power: 2,300
Status: Injured.
Note: Null-born mortal. Chaos purity low.]
Sekhmet's brows tightened.
The system's appraisal still listed him as Injured.
Either the system was slow, or Renn was hiding something deeper than a bruise.
Renn stepped closer, stopping just outside Sekhmet's reach.
"Give me your space tool," Renn said. "I saw it. I saw you store bodies. Stones. Loot."
Sekhmet's eyes hardened. "It is not a tool you can take."
Renn's expression sharpened. "Then give me the shadow beast loot."
Sekhmet let out a slow breath.
"No."
Renn's eyes narrowed.
"You do not understand," Renn said, voice low. "The city is three months away from here. You will die before you reach it. I might die too, but at least I will die with something worth dying for."
Sekhmet's mouth twisted.
"I understand perfectly," Sekhmet said. "You are stupid."
Renn's face twitched.
His voice turned harsher.
"I am not stupid," Renn said. "I am hungry. I am tired of being prey. I am tired of scavenging scraps while gods laugh above our heads."
Sekhmet's eyes narrowed.
"And you think stealing from me will fix that."
Renn's lips parted, and his teeth looked slightly sharper than they should.
Under the moonlight, his skin seemed to tighten over muscle. His posture broadened. His shoulders rolled back, and his breathing deepened as if he was inhaling the night itself.
Sekhmet felt a chill crawl up his spine.
Then Renn spoke again, and his voice had changed.
It carried a roughness, like gravel being crushed.
"It will fix it for me," Renn said.
And then he smiled.
It was not a human smile.
Sekhmet's throat tightened.
"Werewolf," Sekhmet whispered.
Renn's smile widened.
"So you are not completely blind," he said.
Sekhmet's fingers tightened around nothing, because he had not yet formed his blood sword. He held his chaos energy back, trying to read the situation.
Renn lifted his arms slightly, as if stretching.
"You picked the wrong man to save," Renn said.
Sekhmet's voice came out cold.
"I am starting to notice that pattern."
The bat in Sekhmet's pocket stirred, sensing tension. It crawled out again, clinging to Sekhmet's shoulder, blinking at Renn with sleepy irritation.
"Batbat…"
Renn's eyes flicked to the bat.
He scoffed. "A tiny pet."
The bat's eyes widened, offended, and it hissed its only language.
"Batbatbatbat!"
Sekhmet muttered, "Do not provoke him."
The bat ignored him.
Renn laughed, then tipped his head back toward the moon.
A low growl rolled out of his chest.
Grrrrrrrr…
His bones began to shift.
Crack… Crack… Crack…
The sound was wrong. It was too loud, too wet, too final. Sekhmet's stomach turned as he watched Renn's spine arch. His arms lengthened. His fingers stretched, nails thickening into claws that gleamed under moonlight.
Renn's face changed next.
His jaw pushed forward.
Crack!
His teeth lengthened into fangs.
His nose flattened slightly, then sharpened, nostrils flaring as if the world suddenly smelled delicious.
His skin rippled, and coarse dark fur erupted across his arms, his chest, his neck, spreading fast like a living infection.
Shhhh!
Renn's eyes turned a brighter shade, gleaming like a predator's eyes in firelight.
He was bigger now. Taller. Wider. Muscles packed into his frame like stone.