Invincible Blood Sorceror

Chapter 129: My thicc Aunt

”That’s different.”

”And now you’re not embarrassed at all, are you?”

Sigora’s tone was teasing and knowing.

”All grown up and confident. I’ve noticed how you look at the young women in the settlement. Quite the bold one now.”

”Bold enough to do this.”

Jorghan stripped down to basic undergarments—more than he’d normally wear in mixed company, but this was his aunt—and stepped into the hot water. The temperature was intense, almost scalding, but his enhanced physiology adapted quickly.

He settled across from Sigora, trying very hard to maintain eye contact and not let his gaze wander.

”Can we not talk about my... confidence?”

”Why not? I think it’s good that you’ve grown into yourself. You were such a serious child, always worried about everything. Now you’re...” she gestured vaguely, ”...this. Whatever this is.”

”Incredibly dangerous and devastatingly attractive?”

Jorghan suggested with a return of his usual cockiness.

Sigora laughed, the sound warm and genuine. ”And modest too. Don’t forget modest.”

”Modesty is overrated, Mother.”

Something soft passed through Sigora’s expression. ”I’m glad you see me that way.”

”Jorghan, you really need to think when you go on adventures with the rest of them. There are not like you and I worry about them.”

”I know,” Jorghan said, his tone becoming more serious.

”Which is why I’m not letting the Empire anywhere near you or Swana or Sik’ra. They come hunting, they die. Simple as that.”

”Not so simple,” Sigora replied, her warrior’s pragmatism reasserting itself.

”The meeting tonight—all three clans will be there. The new patriarch of the Nue’roka, the Patriarch of the Nuwe’rak, and Korreth representing the Nor’vack. They need to make decisions about our survival.”

Jorghan frowned. ”Korreth. Your husband.”

”Yes,” Sigora said carefully.

”Who will also be at the meeting?”

”And he still doesn’t like me.”

”He doesn’t understand you,” Sigora corrected.

”There’s a difference. Korreth is traditional. He sees leadership as something earned through clan hierarchy and decades of service. You came in as an outsider and immediately became central to everything happening. It challenges his worldview.”

”His worldview can adjust,” Jorghan said bluntly.

”I’m not going anywhere.”

”I know. And he’ll have to accept that. But Jorghan—” Sigora leaned forward slightly, her expression serious, ”—try not to antagonize him tonight. The clans need unity, not internal conflict.”

”I don’t antagonize people,” Jorghan protested.

”I just speak honestly.”

”Your honesty has a way of sounding like arrogance.”

”That’s because I’m honest about being amazing.”

Sigora sighed, though there was fondness in it.

”Just... try. For me?”

Jorghan was quiet for a moment, then nodded. ”For you, Mother. I’ll try.”

They soaked in comfortable silence for a while, the hot water easing tensions that had been building for days. The steam rose around them, creating a private world separate from the concerns waiting outside.

”How are you really doing?” Sigora asked eventually.

”After everything that happened in the forest. Swana told me some of it, but...”

”I killed a lot of people,” Jorghan said simply.

”Nearly five hundred. Tore them apart, burned them, made examples of them.”

He paused.

”And I don’t regret it. They hurt Swana and Scarlett. They deserved what they got.”

”That’s what worries me,” Sigora said quietly.

”Not that you killed them, but that it doesn’t bother you. The Berserk Lord bloodline—it makes violence feel natural, doesn’t it?”

”Yes,” Jorghan admitted.

”When I’m in that state, killing is as easy as breathing. Easier, maybe. And it feels right, like I’m doing exactly what I was designed to do.”

He met her eyes.

”Does that make me a monster?”

”It makes you dangerous,” Sigora replied.

”Whether it makes you a monster depends on who you use that danger against. Right now, you’re protecting people. That’s not monstrous. But the line between protector and destroyer... it’s thinner than you think.”

”Then I’ll stay on the right side of the line.”

”Make sure you do. Because once you cross it, there’s no coming back.”

The steam rose in lazy curls from the hot springs, turning the air thick and humid like a lover’s breath. The water bubbled gently around them, fed by underground veins that kept this hidden grotto on the edge perpetually warm.

Jorghan sank deeper into the mineral-rich pool, the heat seeping into his bones, but it did little to quell the fire building low in his gut.

Across from him, partially obscured by the rising mist, sat Sigora—his aunt by blood, but the woman he had called ”Mother” since he was old enough to speak, her voice the one that had soothed his childhood fevers and guided his teenage rebellions.

He couldn’t help but keep looking down her body as they spoke.

She was a vision of allure, her brown skin glistening with a sheen of sweat and water droplets that traced paths down the generous swells of her body. Sigora was no lithe desert sprite like Sarhitai; she was thick, built like the fertile hills of some forgotten valley, her hips wide and powerful, her thighs substantial enough to crush a man’s resolve with a single squeeze. Her breasts, heavy and full, floated just at the water’s surface, the dark nipples pebbled from the contrast of hot water and cooler air.

She carried her age like a badge of ripened sensuality, her curves dangerous in their promise—soft where they invited touch, firm where they demanded respect.

They had been talking for what felt like hours, the conversation meandering.

Jorghan had nodded along, his responses easy and attentive, but his mind had wandered far from her words.

He couldn’t help it.

Every time she shifted, sending ripples across the water that lapped at her ample cleavage, his gaze stole southward. The way her belly curved gently, soft and inviting, leading down to the shadowed V between her thighs—visible just enough through the clear water to torment him.

He had always known she was beautiful, but maturity had transformed her into something intoxicating, a forbidden fruit that dangled just out of reach.

”...and that’s why we must be careful with the new scouts,” Sigora was saying, her voice a rich, melodic rumble that vibrated through the steam.