Invincible Blood Sorceror

Chapter 41: Dreadnaught

But before the rage could consume him entirely, Jorghan slammed his foot into the ground with explosive force.

The impact sent shockwaves radiating outward, spider-webbing the crystal beneath his feet and causing every elf within fifty meters to stagger.

His voice, when he spoke, seemed to fill the entire space around them, carrying a weight and authority that made even the eldest warriors fall silent.

”I. DIDN’T. KNOW.”

The words boomed across the isle like the voice of an ancient god, and for a moment, his small frame seemed to loom over them all like a giant cast in shadow and starlight. The very air around him shimmered with barely contained power, and several of the younger elves took involuntary steps backward.

”They moved abruptly,” he continued, his voice still carrying that otherworldly resonance.

”Everything changed overnight.”

”I came as fast as I could. But listen to me carefully—we cannot win against their machine power. You need to evacuate. All of you. Now.”

He turned to Sigora, and for just a moment, the terrible authority faded from his voice, replaced by the desperate plea of a frightened young man. ”Auntie, there’s someone coming. Their lord. I don’t think we can stand against what they’re bringing. Please, tell them to leave while they still can.”

He wasn’t afraid to go against them, but he thought that if they fought against them, the elves would eventually lose.

Sigora’s eyes searched his face, reading the truth in his expression and the genuine terror that lurked beneath his supernatural composure.

She had seen him grow from a broken child into something extraordinary, but she had never seen him truly afraid—not like this. She could tell he was worried about their lives. After all, this had been his home.

But before she could respond, another voice cut through the tension like a blade.

”Absolutely not.”

Korreth strode forward, his ceremonial armor gleaming despite the chaos around them.

The war chief’s face was set in lines of stubborn pride, his jaw clenched with the determination of a man who had never known retreat.

Behind him came his personal guard, their weapons ready, their eyes blazing with the same prideful fire that had defined their people for millennia.

”We do not flee from human dogs,” Korreth declared, his voice carrying across the gathering crowd.

”This is our home, our sanctuary. If they want it, they can pry it from our corpses.”

”You don’t understand what you’re up against!” Jorghan shot back, his composure cracking as desperation bled into his words.

”These aren’t ordinary humans—they have technology from another world, weapons that can level mountains!”

”Then we’ll break their weapons,” Korreth replied with grim satisfaction.

”Ready the Chycor squadrons! Prepare the barrier crystals! We make our stand here and—”

His words were cut off by a sound that drained the color from every face on the isle—a deep, thrumming vibration that seemed to come from everywhere at once.

The sky above them darkened as something vast moved between them and the sun.

Jorghan looked up and felt his heart stop.

The ship that descended toward them was beyond massive—it was a flying mountain of metal and energy, bristling with weapon arrays that could have leveled entire cities. Its hull was scored with symbols that hurt to look at directly, and the very air around it seemed to warp and bend with uncontainable power.

This was no mere warship—it was a flagship, a dreadnought capable of reducing their entire archipelago to floating debris.

”Impossible,” someone whispered.

”They couldn’t have built something that large so quickly...”

But Jorghan knew better.

This wasn’t built—it was brought.

From Earth, from that other world where humanity’s military might had reached terrifying heights. The goddess’s words echoed in his mind: Two realities bound into one.

The flagship’s weapons began to charge, energy building in its arrays with a whine that made the very bones of the turtle isle tremble.

Around them, the smaller human ships moved into formation, creating a killing field that would allow no escape.

Korreth bellowed his orders with the desperate fury of a cornered predator.

”All Chycor riders, take flight! Hit their flanks and draw their fire! Ground forces, activate the barrier crystals and—”

The air filled with the thunder of wings as dozens of Chycors launched themselves skyward, their riders armed with enchanted lances and bows that glowed with accumulated mana.

It was a magnificent sight—the proud aerial cavalry of the elves rising to meet their destroyers in the sky.

It was also hopeless.

Sigora turned to her children, her face grave but steady.

Swana and Sik’ra were ready with their weapons.

”Stay together,” she told them firmly, her hands on their shoulders. ”Whatever happens, stay together and stay safe. Do not try to be heroes. Promise me.”

”We promise, Mother,” Swana whispered, though her gaze kept drifting to where the Chycor riders were forming up for their desperate charge.

But the twins—Korreth’s youngest sons, already nearly adult and burning with their father’s pride—shook their heads with stubborn determination.

”We fight with Father,” one declared, gripping his ceremonial sword.

”The line of war chiefs does not flee,” the other added, his young face set in lines that mirrored Korreth’s own expression.

Before anyone could stop them, they broke away from the group, rushing toward where their father was marshaling the ground forces.

Sigora reached after them, but they were already gone, swallowed up in the chaos of preparation.

[Host emotional state critical]

[Bloodborne Rage: 67% activation]

[Carnage Requiem: Synchronization imminent]

The red dot in Jorghan’s consciousness blazed like a dying star, and the tattoo on his neck felt as though it were branded with liquid fire.

Around him, the world began to slow and sharpen, each detail becoming crystalline clear as something ancient and terrible stirred in the depths of his blood.

The flagship’s main cannon reached full charge.

The Chycor squadrons screamed their battle cries as they dove toward certain death.