---
He did not summon bats. He did not raise a weapon. He simply lifted his hand and placed two fingers under the tiger blood man's chin, tilting it slightly.
The man stiffened.
Sekhmet leaned in. His mouth opened. He bit him hard.
Chomp.
The hall went silent.
Warm blood surged into Sekhmet's mouth, thick and strong. It carried chaos energy like a heated current. It tasted metallic, animal, and stubborn. It tasted like a man who believed he could survive anything because his body was tougher than rock.
Sekhmet drank. Not gently. Not like a polite sip.
He drank with hunger and control, taking enough to fill the wound in his body and calm the predator inside him.
The man's body jerked.
"Mmph—!"
His hands clenched. His eyes widened. His knees buckled slightly.
Sekhmet stopped before the man collapsed entirely. He pulled away and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.
The man stumbled backward, panting, face pale, blood running down his neck.
