Invincible Blood Sorceror

Chapter 132: They want to harvest elves

”You betrayed us,” a Nue’roka elder said coldly.

”I survived,” Eben replied, meeting the elder’s gaze.

”And I learned their plans in the process. Which is why Jorghan brought me here—not for redemption, but for intelligence.”

”Then share it,” Korreth said.

”What are the Empire’s intentions?”

Eben moved to the center of the circle, his movements still carrying a scholar’s precision despite everything he’d endured.

”The Empire’s goal is complete elimination of the Twelve Clans. Not subjugation—extinction. They view elven bloodlines as resources to be harvested, not people to be negotiated with.”

”We knew this already,” Vel’moth growled.

”You knew their objective,” Eben corrected.

”But not their timeline or their methodology. The Empire has divided the continent into sectors. Each sector has a dedicated hunting team—Haelves led by enhanced human commanders. The team assigned to this sector is led by two people, the siblings, Caden and Constance.”

Jorghan leaned forward, suddenly more interested.

”Tell me about them. The siblings.”

Eben’s eyes found Jorghan in the circle and he nodded.

”They’re the Empire’s greatest achievement in human enhancement: genetic modification, magical augmentation, and centuries of combat knowledge implanted directly into their minds through techniques I don’t fully understand. They are in their twenties chronologically but have the combat experience of warriors who’ve fought for lifetimes.”

”How strong?” Jorghan pressed.

”Strong enough that the Empire considers them equivalent to multiple Haelve units. They’ve personally led raids on three of the fallen clans. Casualty rates suggest they’re nearly as dangerous as—” he paused, looking at Jorghan—”as what you displayed in the Whisperingtris.”

”Nearly?” Jorghan’s grin was sharp.

”I can work with nearly.”

”This is not a game, half-blood,” Korreth said harshly.

”No, it’s war,” Jorghan replied.

”And in war, knowing your enemy’s capabilities is critical. If this pair of siblings is the biggest threat, then they’re my primary targets.”

Eben shook his head slowly. ”You misunderstand. They’re not the biggest threat. They’re the commanders of the biggest threat. The Haelves under their command—there are eighteen in the sector. Each one is equivalent to a dozen normal warriors. And they’re coordinated, disciplined, and ruthless in ways that natural-born warriors can’t match.”

”Eighteen,” Vel’sara said quietly, doing the mental calculation.

”Against how many of our warriors?”

”The three clans combined have perhaps three hundred warriors in fighting condition,” Katisana supplied.

”With the Nue’roka losses, possibly fewer.”

”Three hundred against eighteen,” Morden said.

”Those odds—”

”Are terrible,” Eben finished.

”Which is why the Empire is confident. They don’t see you as a threat. They see you as resources waiting to be collected.”

”Then we change their perception,” Jorghan said.

”We hit them hard enough that they realize we’re not easy prey.”

Eben turned to face Jorghan fully. ”I’ve seen what you can do. It’s impressive. But attacking the Empire’s forces directly would be suicide for anyone who accompanies you. The Haelves don’t just match elven physical capabilities—they exceed them. Nine feet tall, proportional strength, magical affinity that rivals the strongest natural talents. And they feel no mercy, no hesitation, no moral restraint.”

”He speaks truth,” Sigora said quietly.

”I’ve reviewed the same intelligence. A direct assault on Empire positions would result in catastrophic casualties.”

”So we do nothing?” Vel’moth demanded.

”We sit here and wait for them to come kill us?”

”We fight smart,” Jorghan said.

”Use terrain. Use ambush tactics. Separate their forces and eliminate them piecemeal instead of facing them all at once.”

”You make it sound simple,” Korreth said, and his tone carried an edge that Jorghan recognized as barely suppressed anger.

”As if guerrilla tactics will overcome fundamental power imbalance.”

”It’s not simple,” Jorghan admitted.

”But it’s possible. The alternative is rolling over and dying, which I’m not interested in.”

”You’re not interested in acknowledging reality,” Korreth countered, his massive frame tense. ”You speak as if will alone can overcome impossible odds. You belittle the danger we face because you’re confident in your own abilities. But our warriors—they can’t match Haelves. They’ll die. In large numbers. And you’ll be responsible for those deaths.”

”Korreth—” Sigora began.

”No,” Korreth interrupted, standing to his full imposing height.

”This needs to be said. The half-blood has been elevated beyond his station because of one victory against human forces who were unprepared for his abilities. But the Empire is prepared. They know about him. They’ve studied his capabilities. And they’re sending forces specifically designed to counter supernatural threats.”

He looked around the circle, making eye contact with each leader. ”I will not send Nor’vack warriors to die in a battle we cannot win. I will not sacrifice my people for this outsider’s ego.”

The assembly erupted.

Red elf warriors shouted objections.

Nue’roka elders voiced agreement.

The younger generation looked torn between traditional respect for the patriarch and recognition that Jorghan represented their best chance.

Jorghan remained seated, his expression unreadable. But Sarhita noticed his hands were clenched, knuckles white with tension.

Kal’tun, the patriarch of the Nuwe’rak clan stood up.

”Patriarch Korreth, with respect—you’re wrong.”

The bluntness of the statement created shocked silence.

”I’ve fought beside the Berserk Lord’s descendant,” Kal’tun continued.

”I’ve seen him face creatures that would have killed any of us. He doesn’t belittle the danger. He understands it better than most because he’s willing to acknowledge what we’re facing instead of hiding behind comfortable illusions.”

”You overstep,” Korreth said coldly.

”I speak truth,” Kal’tun replied.

”As does Jorghan. Yes, the Haelves are dangerous. Yes, many of our warriors would die in direct confrontation. But what alternative do you offer? Hiding on your floating island while the red elf clans are exterminated? That’s not strategy—that’s cowardice.”

Korreth’s eyes blazed with fury. ”You dare—”

”I dare because someone must,” Kal’tun interrupted.

”The Berserk Lord doesn’t belittle us. He believes in our ability to survive if we fight intelligently. That’s more respect than I’m hearing from you right now.”

Sigora stood, placing a hand on her husband’s arm before he could respond with violence. ”Kal’tun speaks harshly, but his point has merit. We cannot dismiss Jorghan’s strategy simply because it’s risky. Everything is risky now.”

”You side with him over me?” Korreth’s voice was low and dangerous.

”I side with survival,” Sigora replied, meeting his gaze unflinchingly.

”As should you.”

The patriarch and his wife stared at each other for a long moment, some unspoken conversation passing between them. Finally, Korreth sat back down, though his expression remained thunderous.

Vel’sara cleared her throat. ”Perhaps we should hear the full strategy before we argue about its implementation. Jorghan—you’ve been uncharacteristically quiet. What exactly are you proposing?”

Jorghan stood, moving to the center of the circle where everyone could see him.

”Eben said the Empire has eighteen Haelves in this sector, plus the two commanders and support personnel. They’re operating out of a forward base somewhere in the eastern desert—probably mobile, definitely well-defended.”

He paused, letting that sink in. ”A direct assault on that base would be suicide. I agree with that assessment completely. Our warriors aren’t ready for that kind of engagement.”

”Then what—” Vel’moth began.

”I’m not finished,” Jorghan said, his tone sharp enough that the acting patriarch fell silent.

”We can’t attack their base. But we can attack their operations. The Haelves don’t just sit in camp—they’re actively hunting. Which means they’re spread out, vulnerable, and exposed.”

He looked at Eben. ”You know their tactics. How do they typically operate?”

Eben nodded slowly, understanding where this was going.

”Small teams. Usually three to five Haelves, sometimes with human support personnel. They identify target settlements, scout them, then strike when resistance is minimal. Quick raids designed to capture rather than kill when possible, though they’re not particular about collateral damage.”

”So we ambush them,” Jorghan said.

”We identify their patrol routes, their target settlements, and we set traps. Not with our warriors—they’re not ready for that. With me.”

”You alone against multiple Haelves?” Katisana asked skeptically.

”I alone as primary combatant, with our warriors providing support—intelligence, distraction, evacuation of civilians. I do the killing. They do everything else.”

Sarhita stood, moving beside Jorghan.

”It could work. We evacuate target settlements before the Empire reaches them, deny them captives. Then when the Haelves arrive to find nothing, Jorghan attacks while they’re confused and off-balance.”

”You’re talking about using our people as bait,” a Nue’roka elder objected.

”I’m talking about using abandoned settlements as bait,”

Sarhita corrected. ”Empty buildings, no people at risk. We trade territory we can’t hold anyway for opportunities to reduce their numbers.”

”And when they send more Haelves?” Korreth challenged.

”When they realize their teams are being eliminated systematically?”

”Then they escalate,” Jorghan said simply.

”They send bigger forces, probably including the two commanders. Which is exactly what I want—draw them into terrain where we have advantages, where their numbers matter less.”

”The Shifting Sands,” Kal’tun said suddenly.

”The badlands are north of here. Terrain changes constantly, ambush opportunities are everywhere, and it’s nearly impossible to navigate if you don’t know the area.”

”Exactly,” Jorghan confirmed.

”We eliminate their forward teams one by one. When they come looking for revenge, we’ll be ready on the ground that favors us.”

Vel’moth was leaning forward now, his earlier despair giving way to something like hope.

”It’s risky.”