Invincible Blood Sorceror

Chapter 149: My father made his choices. I’ll make mine.

”The clans are calling you the Blood Emperor,” Sarhita added.

”Some prefer Crimson Death, but Blood Emperor seems to be winning.”

Jorghan grimaced.

”I’d prefer they just called me Jorghan.”

”Too late for that,” Sigora said with gentle humor.

”You’re a legend now. Whether you want to be or not.”

*

They talked for hours, catching Jorghan up on everything that had happened during his recovery, sharing observations about the battle, and discussing the political ramifications of what he’d done.

Finally, as the sun began its descent toward the horizon, Sigora broached the important topic.

”The Council of Twelve Clans has convened,” she said, her tone becoming more formal.

”They’ve discussed what happened here, what you did, and what it means for the desert clans as a whole.”

Jorghan waited, sensing this was leading somewhere significant.

”They’ve decided to officially recognize the Sol’vur clan back as the thirteenth clan,” Sigora continued.

”Not as a courtesy or political favor, but as acknowledgment of strength and legitimacy. Your bloodline, your power, your willingness to stand and protect when it mattered, you’ve proven everything they could have asked for and more.”

She reached into her robes and withdrew a scroll sealed with the mark of the Council.

”This is your formal invitation to the recognition ceremony. It will be held at the Council Grounds in five days. They want you there to accept officially.”

Jorghan took the scroll, watching and reading the matter in it.

He kept a straight face the entire time, and when he finished, he folded back the parchment and gave it to her.

”I don’t care about those 12 clans. What do they think of themselves, acknowledge? Fuck that and fuck them,” Jorghan said, wincing in pain when he leaned back. He said in a very casual tone.

Everyone was stunned for a second and didn’t say anything.

”Jorghan,” Sigora said, holding the parchment.

”My brother, your father, was sad when those clans decided to remove the Sol’vur name from the Council. He lived quietly because he hoped that someday, they would take him back in. He was friends with all of them, but when he turned the realm upside down, when he had become the Berserk Monarch, something had taken them in.

Fear—it started as a seed and grew day by day. They were afraid of what he had become. What you did a few days ago wasn’t even a quarter of what your father had done.

When our family was killed, he was heartbroken and devastated.

At that time, after he found out the truth about the ones who killed them, he was like Absolute Rage incarnate. Even I couldn’t stop him.

A few of the clan members were also involved, and it was what broke him. The people who shared everything with him were responsible for the fall of his family.

He killed them, of course. And that’s what made them remove the name from Council.

But when he knew he killed innocents and the ones who weren’t involved, he was again crushed.”

”Your father was a fool,” she said softly, not with cruelty but with the weary truth of someone who had lived through it. ”A fool who acted on impulse and emotion. He could never bear losing the people he cared for. After your family was gone, he held on to one thing: the hope that at least his friends would stay by his side.”

She exhaled, shaking her head with a sad smile.

”But they distanced themselves. Some out of fear, some out of guilt, and some because they didn’t know how to face him. And he... he never blamed them. Not once. He kept waiting, believing that time would heal it all, that one day they would come back, greet him again, and share a drink like old times. That was the kind of man he was. He forgave everything, even when it broke him.”

”Yes, he killed them in rage. But that rage wasn’t hatred, Jorghan. It was grief so deep it tore apart his mind. And when the storm passed, he was left with nothing but guilt and a desperate longing for the life he lost. That’s why he lived quietly after they removed the Sol’vur name from the Council.”

She looked away again.

”He wasn’t seeking redemption. He was seeking... connection. The same people he had hurt, he still loved. And he waited like a fool, hoping they would love him again someday.”

A long silence followed, weighted with truth.

”Not all of the clans were ivolved but all of them had become terrified of him.”

”Your father wasn’t evil,” she whispered.

”He was wounded and alone, and he forgave others more easily than he ever forgave himself.”

”Hawkin disappeared right before it happened. I wasn’t present when it happened, as I was away, far from this realm. And after I came, Ser’gu contacted me and told me about your mother. She had become everything to him. She gave him life, and he settled with sub-branches of the clan in that village.”

Sigora watched him quietly as Jorghan stared at the floor, his expression distant, shadowed by thoughts he had never allowed himself to explore before.

He understood his father, understood the shape of his emotions, the fragile core beneath that terrifying rage.

The need for people.

For most souls, that need is a simple truth, a driving force. Some people, rare ones, cling to others even when they are not loved back. They give without receiving, and they stay even when pushed away, because the alternative, loneliness, is a wound they cannot bear.

Jorghan exhaled slowly.

He wasn’t like that.

Unlike his father, he would not drown in regret. He would not forgive betrayal. He would not bend himself into longing for those who walked away. His father was gentle, too gentle for a world like this.

All kinds of people existed, some who broke under loneliness, some who broke others to avoid it. That was simply the nature of living beings.

Jorghan knew he was different.

Another long breath left him.

He thought about Ser’gu, his father, the man he barely knew yet suddenly felt connected to in a way that hurt more than he expected.

A good man, a kind man. A man who had loved so fiercely it destroyed him in the end.

Jorghan’s voice was barely a whisper.

”He would’ve been a great father.”

He lifted his head, eyes steady but heavy with something deeper.

”But they took him away.”

Sigora said nothing. She didn’t need to—the silence between them carried the weight of a whole family’s shattered history.

”I don’t care about what they want to do,” he said finally.

”My father is his own man, just as I am my own.”

Sigora stepped closer. ”You should care. Once the Sol’vur name returns to the Council, no clan will dare question you again. You will have their respect—”

”I already have their fear,” Jorghan cut in.

Sigora’s lips tightened. ”Fear is not the same as respect.”

”For me,” he replied calmly, ”it’s enough.”

She stared at him for a long moment, grief and frustration mixing in her eyes.

”Jorghan, your father wanted this. He wanted the clan restored. He wanted his people to stand honored once more.”

He stopped sharpening and looked at the blade’s reflection, the faint red glow of his mana pulsing along the edge.

”My father wanted to be welcomed back because he cared about them,” Jorghan said quietly.

”I don’t. Not even a little.”

Sigora’s breath caught. ”Jorghan...”

He looked at her, his expression unreadable.

”Let me tell you what this truly is.” His voice held no anger, only cold certainty.

”The clans aren’t inviting me out of respect. They’re terrified. Terrified that I might do what my father did. Terrified that I might do worse.”

Sigora swallowed but didn’t deny it.

Jorghan continued.

”They had to know that i killed a patriarch. They would have known that I have destroyed an army.”

”They fear me; that’s what this invitation is about,” he said, pointing at the parchment.

”And now,” he said, ”afraid of what happened with my father comes to the surface; they want to make me a part of their little circle.

Put a nice seat at the table. Give me a title. Pretend everything is fine.”

He scoffed.

”It’s not an invitation. It’s insurance.”

Sigora opened her mouth, then closed it.

He wasn’t wrong.

The clans feared a second Berserk Monarch.

They feared another Sol’vur rising with divine bloodline power.

They feared Jorghan most of all, because he was stronger than the stories of his father and colder in his decisions.

She tried again, softer now.

”Even so... even if they come out of fear... the recognition still matters. Our clan deserves its place. Our ancestors deserve it.”

Jorghan looked at her, really looked at her. The pain she carried, the burden she still held on her shoulders all these years.

Finally, he sighed.

”Mother...”

The rare softness in his voice made her straighten.

”I’ll go,” he said.

”Not for them. Not for their recognition.”

His eyes met hers, sharp and steady.

”I’m going because you asked me.”