Invincible Blood Sorceror

Chapter 9: An outsider

Six Years Later,

Far away from the mainlands, far from the continent, there existed a place called Yandoryna.

It’s a place where normality is a foreign concept, where magic and mystery reign supreme.

And you wouldn’t find a single human soul in these lands. These were the home of an ancient clan, the Nor’vack clan.

The place was not a simple landmass but a group of floating islands.

Yandoryna was a place unlike what you see in the mainlands. Its mysterious and collective group of islands, which were hung in midair, far above the ground, defied gravity for tens of thousands of years.

Floating Isles, hanging suspended in the endless azure sky, are a marvel of ancient mana engineering.

Seven massive landmasses orbited the central island like satellites around a planet, connected by bridges of large vines and trees. A natural pathway connecting the islands.

Waterfalls cascaded from the edges of the islands, their waters falling endlessly into the misty abyss below, only to be drawn upward again through massive root systems that sustained the ecosystem in perpetual balance.

These islands were the ancestral homeland of the Nor’vack clan—one of the most formidable among the Twelve Great Clans. Shrouded in mist and storm, carved by obsidian cliffs and forests.

The twelve great clans were a council, an ancient group of rara race beings.

Their existence predates the birth of the universe, but now they have vanished with time, and only a few of them are left.

Upon the smallest of these floating territories, known as the Twilight Isle for its perpetual dusk caused by the shadow of the larger landmasses above, a solitary figure sat by the edge of the Silver River.

The waters here flowed against gravity, curling upward at impossible angles before rejoining the main waterway that circled the entire domain of the Nor’vack clan.

Jorghan, now eleven years old, watched the silvery fish dart through the crystalline waters with eyes that betrayed his alien heritage among the Nor’vack.

Where their eyes were silver or gold with vertical pupils, his remained the deep crimson of his Sol’vur bloodline—a constant reminder of his outsider status, despite the six years he had dwelled among them as Sigora’s adopted son.

After Sigora rescued the boy, she brought him directly to the clan.

Though there was strong objection, Sigora stated clearly that Jorghan will stay in the clan, and she had told them that he will live in the clan as her son, as she adopted him right on the spot.

His aunt had become his mom.

He was grateful for all she had done and held deep respect for her—the woman he once didn’t know, who had now become everything he had.

His white skin, ordinary among humans, stood in stark contrast to the brown complexion of the Nor’vack, with their intricate patterns of white dots flowing across their chests like constellations frozen in flesh. Where they possessed elegantly pointed ears and sinuous tails that expressed their emotions through subtle movements, Jorghan had only the rounded ears of humanity and a spine unadorned by additional appendages.

The crimson tattoo that had first appeared on his neck the day his father died had expanded over the years, now stretching from behind his ear down to his collarbone in an intricate latticework of swirling patterns. He kept it mostly hidden beneath the high collars favoured by Nor’vack youth, but there was no disguising the power it represented to those sensitive to mana signatures.

[Host: Jorghan]

[Status: Stabilized]

[Mana level 1111%]

[Seven Star Blood Deviant: Evolved to Eight-Star]

[Bloodline Abilities Control: 67%]

The ethereal information flashed briefly in his mind’s eye, a constant companion that had guided his training under Sigora’s watchful tutelage.

Six years of rigorous discipline had transformed the broken boy who had recovered from the aftermath of the Stillflame Invocation into something new—neither fully the innocent child of Ser’gu nor entirely the cold-eyed crime lord reborn, but a synthesis of both existences.

He was now sitting, deep in thought. The events of that day, six years ago, still fresh in his mind. He didn’t or couldn’t, even if he wanted to, let go of those memories. They became his pain and fuel at the same time. He would find his uncle one day and kill him with his own hands.

As he was lost in thought, the forest whispered with the quiet hush of nature—until a sudden, guttural snarl shattered the calm.

Without warning, a monstrous beast erupted from the underbrush, its form a blur of slime-slick muscle and unnatural movement.

The creature was enormous, easily the size of a bull, and bore the rough shape of a leopard—but twisted grotesquely. Its skin was glistening, slick and hairless, the colour of bruised charcoal.

Two massive forelimbs ended in jagged claws that sank deep into the earth, while four smaller hind legs twitched and braced like spring-loaded traps. Its maw gaped open wide, revealing rows of curved canine fangs, dripping with thick saliva. But most unsettling of all was its tail—a cluster of strand-like tendrils, each ending in a razor-sharp edge, flicking violently behind it.

A Lycoran.

Jorghan frowned, looking in the direction from which the beast came. He’d only heard of them in hushed stories—wolf-like predators roam in the woods, known for hunting in packs and tearing prey apart with feral joy.

Yet this one had come alone.

The beast lunged, a blur of muscle and rage.

But Jorghan moved just in time—his instincts, honed from surviving alone far too long for a boy his age, kicked in. He twisted to the side and leapt, the claws barely grazing where he had been sitting. His body spun mid-air, and he landed with feline grace on a jagged rock, a trickle of blood on his cheek where a stone had cut him.