Dawn Walker-Chapter 88: Tiny Terror

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He whispered to himself, voice barely audible.

"For the next few days... I will focus on business."

He did not know if the Null would allow him peace, but he would try.

Bat Bat snored softly.

Tiny little sound.

Snff!

Sekhmet closed his eyes. His body relaxed. His mind slipped toward sleep. His last thought before darkness took him was practical and oddly comforting.

"Tomorrow morning, I’m giving my maids the job to teach Bat Bat."

Because if he didn’t, the next enemy might not die from claws or blood. They might die from humiliation.

Sekhmet had sent a letter to Elena before sleeping. A low level bat took it.

A few hours later...

Shine... Shine... Shiny...

Morning arrived in Dawn House the way it always did, not with celebration, not with horns, not with heroic music, but with the steady rhythm of servants moving through corridors as if the mansion itself had a heartbeat. The doors opened softly. Cloth brushed stone. Water was poured. Curtains shifted. Somewhere far down the hall, a kettle hissed like an offended snake.

Sekhmet woke to warmth on his chest.

He did not open his eyes immediately. He stayed still for a moment, letting his senses map the room. The lantern burned low. Window light faint. No footsteps right outside his door. No immediate danger of a fan servant. Bat Bat’s small weight rose and fell with gentle breathing.

Snff...

Sekhmet exhaled slowly.

Last night had been ridiculous, and that was somehow more terrifying than most battles.

He opened his eyes and looked down.

Bat Bat was in bat form, curled like a red leaf against his chest, tiny wings tucked tight, little fangs peeking out slightly as if she was dreaming about biting something that deserved it. She looked innocent.

Sekhmet knew better.

The last time Bat Bat looked innocent, she had peed on a frog monster’s head with the confidence of a legendary assassin.

Sekhmet moved carefully, sliding his hand under Bat Bat and lifting her like she was a fragile treasure.

Bat Bat mumbled in her sleep.

"Snack..."

Sekhmet stared at her.

He whispered, "You have one hobby."

Bat Bat did not hear him. She nuzzled into his palm and continued sleeping like a spoiled princess.

Sekhmet sat up, placed her gently on the pillow, and stood.

He stretched his shoulders, feeling the difference in his body immediately. Strength came without effort now. His chaos energy sat in him like a dense reservoir. His purity had risen again last night, and even if he did not display it openly, his aura had a sharper edge than before.

He washed his face, fixed his coat, and took one more glance at Bat Bat.

"Today," he thought, "I am delegating."

He did not survive purgatory to become a full-time babysitter.

Knock... knock...

A firm knock came at the door.

Not the timid knock of a maid afraid of being scolded.

Not the playful knock of a servant girl pretending she had a "very important message" while her eyes screamed romance.

It was Elena’s knock.

The knock of someone who had been running a household since before Sekhmet learned how to hold a spoon without dropping it.

Sekhmet walked to the door and opened it.

Elena stood there in clean morning clothes, gray hair tied neatly, posture straight, eyes sharp enough to stab a liar. She held a breakfast tray with the calm authority of a general holding a war map.

Her gaze flicked past Sekhmet’s shoulder.

It landed on Bat Bat on the pillow.

Then it narrowed.

Then it sharpened.

Then it became something else entirely.

"Is that," Elena said slowly, "the bat."

Sekhmet nodded.

"Yes," he replied.

Elena took one step forward.

Bat Bat’s tiny ear twitched.

Elena’s eyes did not blink.

Sekhmet felt, very clearly, that if Bat Bat tried to run, Elena would catch her with the same calm efficiency she used to catch Sekhmet as a child when he tried to sneak sweets from the kitchen.

Bat Bat’s eyes opened halfway.

She looked at Elena.

Bat Bat’s eyes widened fully.

She froze.

Sekhmet almost smiled.

Bat Bat feared very few things.

Elena was one of them, even without having been introduced officially. Some people were simply born with the aura of "do not test me."

Elena placed the tray on the table and looked at Sekhmet.

"You said you needed me," she stated, not asked.

Sekhmet nodded.

"Yes," he replied. "I have a responsibility for you."

Elena’s eyebrows lifted slightly. The last time Sekhmet said "responsibility," he was eight years old and had tried to convince her that feeding the kitchen cat was a sacred duty worthy of a noble title.

Elena waited.

Sekhmet stepped aside so she could see the bed properly.

He spoke calmly, and he spoke clearly.

"Let me induce you to her officially. This is Bat Bat," he said. "She is my summon bat."

Elena stared.

Bat Bat stared back. Bat Bat slowly sat up on the pillow, wings shifting.

Elena’s expression did not change. She accepted the impossible with the same attitude she accepted late shipments and broken plates. In Null, strange things happened. In Dawn House, strange things happened faster.

Sekhmet continued. "Last night," he said, "Bat Bat learned a transformation skill."

Elena’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Bat Bat puffed up proudly.

"Yes," Bat Bat said, voice smug. "Bat Bat can be girl."

Elena’s gaze slid toward Sekhmet.

Her eyes said, silently, what do you mean "can be girl."

Sekhmet lifted a hand.

"I am not joking," he said.

Elena sighed once, very quietly, as if she had just been told she needed a tornado to behave. She didn’t ask questions about what Sekhmet did with her at night. A lady can’t sleep with young man.

"Show me," Elena said.

Bat Bat grinned.

Bat Bat’s body shimmered.

Fzz...

Red light wrapped her small form like a thin veil.

In a blink, the six-inch girl stood on the pillow again, hair long, wings tucked, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Bat Bat put her hands on her hips.