Invincible Blood Sorceror

Chapter 71: Taking on all of them

There were six of them. Each one bore markings—spiraling, leaf-like sigils that radiated a faint emerald glow.

They circled above, and from their hulls descended figures—elves.

But again, not elves as Jorghan knew them.

These were the same race as the woman, their skin the same red tone, their eyes bright like polished amber. Their armor was a blend of woven mana-thread and steel, alive with pulse and light. Their weapons looked organic, like bows carved from bone and crystal rifles that hummed with restrained energy.

They moved with perfect discipline, surrounding Jorghan and the woman in moments.

The woman’s breath quickened.

She struggled to rise but stumbled, clearly injured.

The lead elf—a tall man with a crown of white thorns braided into his hair—raised a weapon toward her.

”Sarhita of the Redrani Flame, by order of the Nue’roka Clan, you are to return with us. Do not resist.”

Her eyes widened.

”I will not go back,” she hissed, voice shaking.

Then, turning to Jorghan—”You, stranger... help me.”

Jorghan said nothing at first. His gaze flicked between her and the approaching soldiers. His system scanned automatically:

[ANALYSIS COMPLETE]

[ENERGY SOURCE: UNKNOWN]

[MANA FREQUENCY: NON-LOCALIZED]

[HOST RECOMMENDATION: EXTREME CAUTION ADVISED.]

He raised an eyebrow slightly. ”You’ve brought quite the entourage,” he murmured.

Sarhita—if that was indeed her name—managed a pained smirk. ”They’re not here to greet me.”

The lead elf’s gaze shifted to Jorghan.

”Step away, Half-blood. This does not concern you.”

Half-blood.

The word hung between them like a strange melody.

Jorghan tilted his head, eyes narrowing. ”Half-blood, hmm?”

”You bear the taint of the abyss,” the elf hissed.

”You reek of corruption.”

Maybe they noticed his faintly pointed ears, or because they were elves, they were able to tell he was a half-elf.

At that, Jorghan’s expression sharpened.

The air thickened, his aura flaring faintly—a pressure that rolled like molten smoke.

”Then perhaps,” he said softly, ”you should step aside.”

The soldiers moved instantly—bows drawn, blades charged with mana.

The air crackled.

She whispered, ”They won’t stop. They’ll kill us both.”

”Then they’ll try.”

He raised his hand.

The elf woman’s features struck a faint note of recognition in Jorghan’s mind. He remembered what his aunt Sigora once told him about the twelve clans—ancient elven bloodlines bound by power and pride.

Among them, the Nue’roka and Nuwe’rak clans were said to be like twin flames—born of the same essence, sharing the same look, yet forever at odds.

He could tell from her red-tinted skin and golden eyes that she belonged to one of them. Seeing a member of such a clan here, far from their lands, was strange enough to make him pause.

So... one of the twin clans, here of all places, he thought, his gaze shifting to the other elves. They’re after her, then.

Figures.

Jorghan exhaled softly, his expression calm but resolute.

He would save her first—questions could come later.

The moment the red-skinned elves surrounded him, Jorghan’s instincts kicked in.

There were six of them—each towering above him at nearly seven and a half feet, their skin glowing faintly with the crimson hue of burning embers. Their armor was lean and sleek, forged from some kind of mana alloy that shimmered like molten glass, and their weapons—long, double-edged spears—buzzed faintly with energy.

The elf woman behind him staggered, clutching her side, her amber eyes wide as Jorghan stepped forward. He rolled his shoulders once, feeling the familiar hum of power crawl through his veins.

”Alright,” he muttered, cracking his knuckles.

”Let’s dance.”

The first elf lunged, spear thrusting straight for his heart.

Jorghan pivoted left, the shaft grazing past his ribs, and with a vicious twist he caught the weapon mid-swing.

Before the attacker could react, Jorghan yanked him forward and slammed his knee into the elf’s gut.

A wet crunch followed. He had put in enough strength to make a giant fall to his knees.

The elf coughed blood, and Jorghan used his momentum to flip the giant over his shoulder, slamming him into the ground so hard the soil cracked.

The others moved instantly—no hesitation.

Two came from the sides, one sweeping low, the other high.

Jorghan ducked under the first spear, his eyes sharp and glowing faintly red. He grabbed the attacking arm of the second elf and snapped it sideways, the bone cracking like dry wood. Using that same arm as leverage, Jorghan spun around, delivering a savage elbow strike to the elf’s throat.

The warrior gurgled, stumbling back, gasping for air that would never come.

”Two down,” Jorghan muttered.

He sensed movement behind him.

There was a slight hesitation in the eyes of the rest of the elves, but they had no choice but to fight the boy.

Meanwhile, Sarhita watched with bewilderment.

The third elf came at him, charging full speed, his spear whirling like a tornado.

Jorghan didn’t back away—he stepped in.

The red glow in his eyes flared as he blocked the spear with his forearm, then raised his hand and channeled mana straight into his palm.

”Missile burst,” he whispered.

A concussive explosion erupted point-blank.

The wave of red energy blasted outward, sending the elf flying across the clearing, armor shattering like glass as he slammed into a tree trunk, which splintered on impact.

The remaining looked doubtful and fear-struck.

”Come on!” Jorghan roared, his voice deep and guttural now, the faint echo of power rumbling underneath. The ground beneath his feet rippled with mana.

Two rushed him together, both attempting to pin him down.

Jorghan spun low, kicking up a burst of dirt, and slammed his palm into the first one’s chest. The sound was thunderous—like a hammer striking a drum. The elf’s ribs collapsed inward, and he was thrown backward, skidding lifelessly across the dirt.

The second tried to stab him mid-motion, but Jorghan twisted around, caught the spear tip between his palms, and snapped the metal in half with brute force. His follow-up punch drove straight into the elf’s jaw, the impact snapping his neck sideways.

The red giant fell like a tree, silent.

Then the others just gave up their lives and ran towards him.

One of them shouted something in a guttural elven dialect—likely a curse—and charged with pure rage.

Jorghan braced, his mana pulsing violently through his limbs.

The elf’s spear stabbed forward, glowing red-hot with energy. Jorghan caught it mid-thrust—bare-handed—the shaft burning his palms but not enough to stop him.

He pulled the elf in, slammed his forehead into the elf’s face, and then twisted his body, throwing him into the air. The elf barely had time to recover before Jorghan raised his hand toward the sky, mana swirling around his fingers like smoke.

”Let’s end this.”

He clenched his fist, and a focused mana blast erupted upward, detonating mid-air. The shockwave engulfed the elf in a crimson explosion, leaving nothing but ashes raining down like red snow.

The final warrior froze.

His hands trembled slightly as he stared at Jorghan—the smaller human standing amid six fallen giants.

Jorghan turned slowly, eyes burning red, his aura flickering around him like ghostly fire. ”You can still run.”

But the elf snarled and lunged.

Jorghan sighed. ”Fine.”

The elf swung his spear in a wide arc.

Jorghan ducked under it, stepped in close, and drove his elbow into the elf’s gut, sending a ripple of mana through the impact.

The body convulsed.

Jorghan followed with a brutal uppercut to the jaw, then twisted behind the elf, placing one hand on his spine and another on his shoulder.

He pulled.

A sickening crack filled the air.

The last elf dropped to the ground.

Silence.

The dust began to settle, the smell of burnt soil and blood hanging heavy.

Around him, the broken bodies of the red-skinned elves lay sprawled in the dirt.

Jorghan’s breathing steadied as his glowing aura began to fade.

Behind him, the woman watched, her lips slightly parted, her wide amber eyes reflecting both awe and disbelief.

Jorghan shook his hand, flinging blood off his knuckles.

”You alright?” he asked without looking back.

She nodded slowly. ”You... killed them all. With your hands.”

He turned his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

”Didn’t feel like using anything else.”

As he walked past the corpses, the mana around him began to flow into him.

[Mana Devouring Active!]

[Negative Energy Inbound]

When silence returned, the air was thick with smoke and ash.

Jorghan turned to the woman.

”You should explain before more of your friends arrive.”

She breathed heavily, clutching her side where blood seeped through.

”They’re not friends.”

-

The pale red-skinned woman moved through the underbrush with a poise that reminded Jorghan of flowing water. Her liquid luminous gold eyes caught the fading light as they pushed deeper into the wilderness, away from the Duchy’s borders.

Jorghan tagged along with her as they moved through the forest. Right now, he was wondering whether to go back to the city or go after his uncle.

He was contemplating making his uncle aware of his presence, that he was alive, and letting him know that he would be coming after him.

Until then, he’d stick with the Red Elf.