---
Pain burned, then spread cold. There was poison in the needle.
Sekhmet's jaw clenched as the toxin crawled through his shoulder like ice worms. His chaos energy pulsed, crushing it, burning it, trying to push it back out of his blood. It worked, but every heartbeat paid a price. He could feel the drain immediately, like someone drilling holes into his reservoir.
The spear assassin recovered and thrust again.
Sekhmet forced blood threads into the air, trying to bind the spear shaft mid motion. His blood control was good, refined from desperation and repetition.
But Chaos Rank Two strength was better.
The spear tore through the blood thread like ripping cloth.
Sekhmet twisted aside, but the spear clipped his side again, tearing fabric and skin. A clean cut, professional. Not meant to scare him. Meant to bleed him.
More blood.
More hunger.
More weakness.
He could feel his chaos energy dropping too fast, faster than it should. Not just from poison. From pressure.
