Invincible Blood Sorceror

Chapter 241: Entering the mountain pillars

It was so bizarre, yet breathtaking, to watch the scenery unfolding before them. Nami and Jorghan couldn’t suppress their surprise.

The giant white bird moved with delicate grace through the narrow space, giving them a better view at the same time.

And as they flew deeper into the pillar forest, evidence of civilization began appearing.

The mountains were a solid foundation, making a more ideal habitat for beings with wings.

Structures built into the stone. Carved facades that suggested buildings integrated seamlessly with the natural pillars. Bridges and walkways connect different columns at multiple levels. Gardens that must have once hung in the air, their support systems now broken, leaving trailing vines that moved in the wind like kelp in ocean currents.

The sight before them made Nami gasp while Jorghan frowned deeply. It must have been a dreadful battle; just by looking at the destroyed structure, he could tell the level of combat that took place and how powerful the foe had been.

“The Skyreah Kingdom,” Pecah called out, his voice carrying strain that wasn’t from physical exertion.

“One of the major faery civilizations. It was… beautiful. Thirty thousand faeries lived here, building their homes in the sky, using wind magic to create gardens that floated between the pillars.

This kingdom were famous for their wind magic and had lived here for generations, but after those savage creatures invaded them, they were scattered and left this place.”

His wings trembled as they passed a particularly elaborate structure, a palace carved into the largest pillar, its windows dark, its grand entrance sealed with what looked like deliberate destruction rather than natural decay.

“The Scavenetores came here eighteen months ago,” Pecah continued, his voice becoming harder.

“They didn’t conquer it through battle. They used massive weapons and attacked our wings, making us unable to fly. Once we couldn’t use our natural mobility advantage, they just… harvested us.”

He gestured at the abandoned structures surrounding them.

“The ones they didn’t immediately kill, they kept. As livestock. They discovered that faery flesh has properties they value; consuming it extends their lifespan, enhances their natural abilities, and provides benefits that make us extremely valuable to them. Not as slaves to sell, but as food to consume.”

Jorghan felt his blood respond to rising fury, manifesting in faint crimson wisps around his hands. “They’re eating faeries. Treating an entire species as cattle.”

“Yes,” Pecah confirmed.

“And they’re meticulous about it. They keep faeries alive in what used to be our own homes, locked in pens that were once our houses and in our bedrooms. They slaughter a few each day, just enough to feed their garrison without depleting the stock too quickly. The faeries, they keep them alive… they torment them. Break their spirits so they don’t fight back, don’t try to escape, and just accept their fate as food.”

Nami held Kleela closer in the carriage, the child’s face pressed against her chest to block out the sight of her people’s destroyed kingdom.

“How many are still alive here?”

“I don’t know,” Pecah admitted.

“Last intelligence I gathered suggested maybe two hundred faeries still held in the central processing dome. But that was weeks ago. The number drops daily.”

Kleela’s muffled voice came from where she was hiding against Nami.

“Is that why you asked if we were going to eat you when we first found you? You thought all the tall people would…”

“Yes,” Kleela whispered.

“I remembered being afraid of tall creatures. Didn’t remember why back then, just knew that tall beings hurt small ones. When you found me, my first thought was, ‘They’re going to eat me like the others.’ But you didn’t. You gave me food and safety instead.”

The pieces clicked into place for Jorghan.

The memory gaps, the fear of strangers, the desperate need to prove usefulness—all of it made sense now. Kleela had escaped or been hidden away before the main harvesting began, but she’d witnessed enough to be traumatized, to forget who she was while retaining a primal fear of predators.

His rational side, the part that normally calculated cost-benefit and strategic advantage, was drowning beneath rising rage that threatened to overwhelm tactical thinking entirely.

These Scavenetores were eating children, beings revered by the elves and a race that was part of nature.

He couldn’t ignore seeing a traumatized child, how she was made to live all alone in those ruins.

The bloodline that made him dangerous in combat, that let him kill armies, was screaming for violence with intensity that required active effort to control.

Soon, he promised himself.

Very soon.

*

They emerged from the pillar passages into a vast open space where the largest pillar of all dominated the landscape. It was easily five miles in diameter, rising so high its peak wasn’t visible through the clouds. And built into its base was a structure that looked obscenely out of place among the ruined beauty.

A dome.

Massive, maybe half a mile across, constructed from materials that blended biological and technological elements. Its surface pulsed with a faint glow, suggesting it was partially alive.

Entry points were visible, large openings sealed with energy fields that glowed an ugly yellow-green.

And around the dome, moving with coordinated patrols, were Scavenetores. Dozens of them, all armed, all moving with the disciplined efficiency of a military garrison rather than random bandits.

“That’s where they keep the prisoners,” Pecah said, his voice tight.

“Inside that dome, in pens they’ve constructed from our own buildings and homes. They bring faeries out daily for slaughter and sell them to foreigners.”

He looked at Jorghan with something between hope and doubt.

“We need to approach carefully. If we trigger their alarms, they’ll begin executing prisoners immediately rather than letting them be rescued. Standard protocol: deny the enemy any victory by destroying what they came for.”

Jorghan shook his head.

“No stealth or careful approach.

We’re going straight through.”

“That’s suicide,” Pecah protested.

“There are at least fifty Scavenetores in that garrison, possibly more inside the dome. Their weapons, their coordination, even someone as powerful as you can’t just—”

“Watch me,” Jorghan interrupted.