Mummy Evolution

Sett's lips curved into a faint smile, subdued but unmistakable.

His grandmother shot him a sidelong glance but didn't protest, her face a mask of calm. The innkeeper handed them a key, and they climbed the narrow stairs to the room—a cramped space with a single bed, a chipped basin, and a window overlooking the oasis.

The air between them was heavy, not with anger but with the unspoken remnants of the day—his failure, her intervention, their shared victory.

"I was mad because I thought you didn't care about the reward I gave you," she said, removing some pins from her hair and putting it on the small table.

Sett kicked off his boots and settled onto the bed, the mattress creaking under his weight.

He blinked. "How can I not care?"

Ismera paused, then joined him, the small space forcing them close. Sett could smell her fresh smell, she smelled a bit like wine, but more like a white flower, too—which he had forgotten the name of.

Sett sniffed in comfort. But he didn't push his usual boundaries—no sly hands, no teasing nuzzles. Usually, he slept in her arms, but today, he did something different. Instead, he reached out, gently pulling her to his chest, his arm wrapping around her shoulders.

He held her there, still and steady, his breath warm against her hair.

Ismera shifted, tilting her head to look at him.

"No mischief tonight?" she asked, her tone curious.

"You want me to do it?" he asked, face weird.

"No, just surprised due to the change."

Sett met her gaze, his golden eyes softer, more restrained than she'd seen in a while. "I'll earn it right and proper in the next Tomb," he said quietly. "No cutting corners."

She studied him, then settled back against him, her head resting on his chest. "Smart choice," she murmured, a faint smile playing on her lips. "You might actually learn something this way. And if you had tried something, I'd have left. After all, you are the student who ignored my teachings."

They lay there, the sounds of Khetar drifting through the window—muffled voices, the clink of cups, the rustle of palm leaves.

Sett's fingers rested lightly on her head, tracing her hair with simple affection, seeking no advantage—just holding her.

Ismera let him, her hand resting on his arm, the day's tension easing into something quieter, more grounded.

After a stretch of silence, she spoke, her voice low and reflective. "You ever think about how the world in Tombs are connected to our world?"

Sett tilted his head, intrigued. "Like what?"

"I raided a Tomb once," she said, her gaze drifting to some distant memory. "Long before you were born. It wasn't like anything I'd seen—none of the usual pyramids or bloody histories. It was… futuristic, I suppose."

"Futuristic?" Sett's brows lifted, his interest piqued. "You mean like those wild tales—flying machines, metal warriors?"

"Exactly." She chuckled, the sound soft against his chest. "Steel corridors, glowing walls, machines that buzzed like they were alive. The air smelled sharp, like a storm was trapped inside. The Guardians weren't flesh and bone—they were constructs, all metal and red eyes, moving fast as lightning.

"I was Tier 4 then, and they were Tier 5 in strength—though they had weird science powers instead of Axioms or Tomb Hearts."

Sett's eyes widened. "How'd you beat them?"

"Had to think fast," she said, a hint of pride in her voice. "Steel doesn't care about daggers. But I noticed vents in the walls, spitting hot steam. Lured them into it—melted their insides, whatever they were. Took me days to melt them one by one, and I had to hide in this steam pipe while they melted."

Sett became silent.

"Did you keep the machines?" he asked, leaning closer.

She shook her head. "Fell apart when I tried to leave. Most Tomb Tech does. But it stuck with me. Made me wonder—what kind of place built that? Our world, lost to time? Or somewhere else entirely? Tombs pull from history, but whose? Why?"

Sett frowned, his mind racing. "You think those other worlds out there might be our own world's long forgotten past?"

What if they were once a futuristic civilization, that then got extinct and forgotten, only to be revived back?

Then repeat?

"Maybe." Her voice grew quieter, speculative. "Tombs might be more than graves—they could be threads, tying pieces of existence together. The other worlds, they don't feel like ours, but they are—were—real.."

He whistled softly. "That's insane. Makes our earlier A-tier look like nothing."

"Yet nothing can still trip you up," she teased, nudging his nose lightly with her nose. "You proved that today."

Sett grinned.

He could be a gentleman, he could be, but, but—not when she was deliberately teasing him like this. Not when her lips were so adorably close. Not when she was basically in his arms, moving around randomly and grinding against him with her oh so soft body.

Fuck being a gentleman.

Sett felt her nose against his and couldn't hold back anymore. He leaned in a bit to nibble on her lips.

She surprisingly let it be.

Sett became bolder, tongue moving into her mouth.

She reciprocated, her own tongue, inexperienced in this game, easily dominated by him.

They broke the kiss.

Sett felt much more refreshed.

"As I thought, you are a crooked branch," she complained. "And I thought you were going to be a gentleman due to sadness of failing."

Sett coughed. "When things are too cute, it is not my fault. You shouldn't have teased me."

He was celebrating in his heart.

Ismera was still the same, she hadn't changed, she was still there for him.

"This version of you is much better than trying to be some gentleman that you are not," she said, nodding at his goofy smirk. "You failed, you noticed the mistake, now you will fix it on your next try. No need to make one failure change more than that. Keep Tomb business inside Tombs."

He wrapped his hand tightly around her waist.

Wasn't she basically acknowledging that she liked his boldness?

He said, much more enthusiastically, "Next time, I'll do it right. Maybe we'll hit one of those futuristic Tombs together. I'd kill to see you scrap a metal beast."

"You'd probably try to wrestle it and break your neck," she said, but her eyes softened. "If we do, you'd better keep pace, though. No room for slip-ups in a place like that."

"I'll manage," he vowed, his arm tightening just slightly more—wanting to enter her waistband. "I'm not failing you twice."

"And I am not indulging your hand either. It's a fact that you failed; I am just being a failure myself and just indulging you."

Sett squeezed her back.

"Can I do this at least?"

Ismera didn't reply, but she didn't pull away, leaning on his chest and falling asleep. They stayed like that, pressed close in the narrow bed, the Tomb's echoes fading into the night as Khetar hummed beyond the walls.

For once, Sett didn't push—just held her, and she let him, their quiet a promise for the Tombs ahead.

In the end, he was a gentleman.

He squeezed slightly.

Just slightly.

Slightly more.

He was a gentleman.

Cough. Cough. Cough!