Mummy Evolution-Chapter 82: Speaking Nothings

The night deepened over Khetar, the oasis town settling into a restless hush. The inn's thin walls did little to muffle the distant clamor—camel bells jingling, a drunkard's slurred song, the occasional bark of a stray dog.

Inside their cramped room, Sett and Ismera lay entwined, the single bed forcing a closeness that felt both familiar and charged with new weight.

Sett's arm remained draped around her waist, his fingers twitching with the urge to wander but held in check by her earlier words.

He'd promised to earn it properly next time—no shortcuts, no reckless gambles. For once, he meant it. Though he had acted a bit playful, deep down, he also wanted to prove himself to her. He wanted to meet Ismera's wild expectations for him.

His breath steadied against her hair, the faint scent of white flowers—jasmines, he now remembered—mingling with the desert dust still clinging to them both.

Ismera's chest rose and fell evenly, her golden eyes closed, but Sett knew better than to assume she was fully asleep. She had the instincts of a hawk—always half-aware, even in rest. Her hand rested lightly on his forearm, a silent anchor that kept him grounded.

He shifted slightly, the creak of the bed loud in the stillness, and her eyes fluttered open.

She seemed a bit tired, but that only added to her lazy allure.

"Stop squirming," she muttered, voice thick with drowsiness. "You're worse than a camel with fleas."

She huffed, but there was no real bite in it. Her head tilted up, catching the faint moonlight spilling through the window. It painted her face in silver, softening the sharp lines of her cheekbones and the stern set of her mouth.

For a moment, Sett just looked—really looked—marveling at how someone so fierce could seem so serene.

"Grandma," he said, voice low and curious. "What's the weirdest Tomb you've ever raided?"

Ismera's brow arched, a faint smirk tugging at her mouth. "Weirdest? Not the deadliest?"

"Deadly's your usual," he said, smirking back. "I want the bizarre stuff—the kind that messes with your head."

She settled back, her gaze drifting to the cracked ceiling as if peering into a haze of memory. "Alright. The weirdest… that'd be the Spore Hollow. Fourteen some years ago, when you were still a wailing little thing."

Sett's brows lifted. "Spore Hollow? Sounds like a bad harvest."

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"Worse," she said, her tone dry but tinged with a strange relish. "An A-tier, deep in the eastern wastes. No stone pyramids or bloody altars—just a cavern, damp and pulsing, walls carpeted with mushrooms. Not the edible kind—big, fleshy things, glowing sickly green and purple, spitting clouds of dust that shimmered like stars. The air tasted bitter, thick with spores, and the second I breathed it in, everything went… sideways."

He leaned closer, golden eyes glinting. "Sideways how?"

"Like the world melted," she said, her voice dropping low. "The walls breathed, rippling like they were alive. The mushrooms sang—high, whining notes that burrowed into my skull. I saw things—shadows with too many limbs, my own hands turning to vines, crawling up my arms.

"The Guardians weren't beasts or warriors—just floating clumps of spores, eyes blinking in and out, laughing at me.

"I swung my dagger, but it felt like cutting fog. Took me hours to realize salt burned them—crumbled them to ash. By then, I was half-mad, stumbling through a haze of colors and whispers."

Sett's jaw dropped. "You were tripping on mushrooms?"

"Tripping, staggering, cursing every god I knew," she said, a rare laugh escaping her. "Took three days to claw my way out. When I did, I collapsed in the sand, still seeing echoes of those damn spores for a week. Weirdest damn Tomb I've ever survived—and it stuck with me because of you."

"Me?" He blinked, caught off guard.

"Mm." Her voice softened, tinged with something rare—regret, maybe. "You were barely a month old. Your mother, Neilara, was always busy—ruling, raiding, keeping the empire from crumbling. She didn't have time to nurse you herself, so I stepped in. Fed you from my own milk, had someone help me fill up with an Axiom. Kept you latched to me half the day, you greedy little thing."

Sett blinked, a flush creeping up his neck. "Wait—you mean I—"

"Sucked me dry more times than I could count," she said dryly, cutting him off. "You had a grip like a vice and no shame about it—just like now."

"Then?"

"I hadn't just been feeding you milk, though—you were different. I'd been slipping you Tomb Hearts since you were born, tiny slivers to toughen you up, make you strong like me.

"Gave you a body no normal infant could match—too strong, too hungry. You needed enough nutrients to fuel an adult man and you could only drink milk to meet the requirements. Luckily, I could handle it; my milk was rich enough, laced with my body's vitality."

Sett flushed, a mix of pride and embarrassment heating his face.

"So I was a Tomb Raider baby?"

"More like a Tomb Heart glutton," she said wryly. "But then Spore Hollow called me away. Thought it'd be quick—Neilara was off on her own raid, didn't expect me to vanish. Left you with the maids, figured they'd manage. They didn't."

He frowned, sensing the twist. "What'd I do?"

Her lips pressed thin, her grip on his arm tightening. "I was gone two weeks, trapped in that spore-dosed hell. When I got back, the maids were husks—pale, trembling, barely alive. You'd sucked them dry, Sett. Not blood, not life—just their milk, every drop they had. Your body demanded more than mortal women could give; it needed Tomb Raider strength, nutrients only me and your mother could give. They couldn't keep up, and you didn't stop. Neilara found you fat and happy, gurgling in your crib, while the maids collapsed around you."

Sett was in disbelief. "I drained them? As a baby?"

He did that as a grown youth—most maids were already his playmates—but he did that as a baby too?

"Every last one," she said, her smirk returning. "Took a dozen healers to patch them up. Neilara was livid—called it my negligence, said I should've known you'd need me there. My fault, sure, but you… damn you. She banned maids from feeding you after that, made me swear to handle it myself. Couldn't help laughing, though—my little raider, already plundering."

He chuckled, half-embarrassed, half-thrilled.

"Guess I've always been trouble."

"Understatement," she muttered, eyes softening. "That Tomb stayed with me, though. Felt like it was mocking me—those spores, that haze. It showed me drunken visions, too. You growing up, catastrophe striking our family, etc. It made me really start caring about my family."

"Then I am lucky you entered there."

"You bet. Otherwise, who'd spoil you rotten?" Ismera smiled, pecking his lips.

Sett beamed, immediately fighting for a deeper kiss.

She laughed. "Sleep, you dimwit. I am tired."

Sett, at that moment, realized that he was the most blessed man in the entire world.

Subconsciously, something warm trickled down his cheeks and onto Ismera's face.

She looked up with a teasing smirk. "You are such a crybaby, how many times have i seen you like this already?"

Sett scowled. "What do you mean a crybaby? Men don't cry."

"Then you must not be a man."

"My eyes are just sweating, profusely!"

She laughed at his words, and he couldn't help but mirror her. Their room echoed with that same laughter for a while longer, but soon, the laughter softened, replaced by Ismera's soft snoring. Sett watched as she laid, tired and asleep in his arms.