Invincible Blood Sorceror

Chapter 52: Mother!

Jorghan accepted the gentle ribbing with a simple nod, knowing that Grisha’s concern was genuine even if she expressed it in characteristically blunt terms.

The orc woman had given him work when he desperately needed it, had asked no questions about his past, and had shown him the kind of casual kindness that he treasured precisely because it came without conditions or expectations.

The streets of Bleusmoore bustled with evening activity as he made his way through the city’s winding thoroughfares. Market stalls were beginning to close for the day, their owners packing away goods and counting the day’s earnings, while taverns and inns prepared for the night’s rush. Street musicians played on corners, their melodies adding a cheerful soundtrack to the urban symphony, and the smell of cooking food from dozens of different cultures created an olfactory tapestry that spoke to the city’s remarkable diversity.

Jorghan moved through it all with the easy familiarity of someone who had called this place home for several years, nodding to acquaintances and sidestepping the occasional drunk with nonchalance.

The city’s edge was marked by a transition from stone streets to well-worn dirt paths, and beyond that lay the meadow that had become his sanctuary.

It was a place of wild beauty, untouched by the urban development that surrounded it, where tall grass swayed in evening breezes and wildflowers painted the landscape in shifting patterns of color.

The meadow stretched for nearly a mile before ending abruptly at a cliff face that overlooked the river valley below.

And there, tucked into a grove of oak trees at the meadow’s far edge, stood his home.

The house had seen better decades—perhaps better centuries.

Its timber frame was weathered but solid, and the thatched roof showed signs of recent repair work that Jorghan had completed himself.

It wasn’t much to look at from the outside, but it was his, purchased with savings carefully accumulated over years of tavern work and maintained through his own labor.

Most importantly, it was isolated enough to provide privacy while still being close enough to the city for practical purposes.

”I’m home,” he called out as he pushed through the front door.

The interior was spartantly furnished but comfortable, with a few pieces of sturdy furniture arranged around a central fireplace that served for both heating and cooking. Shelves lined one wall, holding a modest collection of books—mostly practical volumes on topics like herbal medicine, basic magic theory, and local history, though a few works of poetry and philosophy suggested deeper intellectual interests.

Everything was clean and well-maintained, reflecting the careful habits of someone who had learned to value what little he possessed.

He looked around the house, searching for his aunt, but he couldn’t find her in the house.

He looked towards the clearing beyond the house, knowing well that she would be sitting there again.

A narrow path wound through the oak grove and emerged at the cliff’s edge, where the meadow ended in a dramatic drop that offered sweeping views of the valley below.

It was here that he came each evening, drawn by a need he couldn’t quite articulate to stand at the boundary between earth and sky and simply... observe.

Tonight, however, he was not alone.

A figure sat on the natural stone bench that overlooked the valley.

More importantly, she was staring intently at the evening sky, her gaze fixed on a point that most would have dismissed as empty air.

But Jorghan’s enhanced vision caught what the stranger was truly observing—that distant crimson planet, its crimson bulk visible only to those who possessed the patience and perception necessary to track its slow movement across the heavens.

Taking a breath to centre himself and ensure his power remained fully suppressed, Jorghan approached the cliff’s edge and settled onto a nearby boulder, maintaining a respectful distance while making his presence known.

For a long moment, neither spoke, both apparently content to share the silence while observing the cosmic dance unfolding in the evening sky.

Jorghan just kept staring at the sky.

”Mother,” he whispered, though to himself rather than to the woman elf beside him. His tall frame still looked small against her towering height. He was six and two feet shorter, though his frame had enough aura to look imposing and make him intimidating.

Sigora snapped from her reverie and stared in shock at Jorghan.

”What did you call me? Did you call me?” She was unable to believe what she just heard.

Jorghan sighed, looking down at the valley. ”Mom.”

Sigora’s lips parted, but no sound came at first.

The weight of that single word struck her harder than any blade ever could.

She blinked, her eyes glistening, then laughed nervously as if to shield herself from her own heart.

”You—you finally said it,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Jorghan shrugged, his jaw tightening.

He didn’t turn to face her, still staring at the fading hues of the sunset bleeding into the night.

”I didn’t feel like it then.”

His tone was flat, but there was a shadow of warmth in it.

”But tonight... it just slipped.”

Sigora lowered herself, her massive frame leaning towards him, sideways.

She studied his face as though trying to etch every line into memory.

”Slipped?” Her voice cracked.

”Jorghan, you have no idea what that means to me.”

”I know,” he muttered. He dared a glance at her, then quickly looked away, uncomfortable under the weight of her emotions.

”That’s why I didn’t say it all these years.”

A shaky laugh broke from her throat, followed by tears she tried to blink away.

”Stubborn brat. Just like your father.” Her large, calloused hand brushed through his hair, though gently, almost reverently. ”But hearing it now... even once... I could die without regret.”

”Don’t say things like that,” Jorghan said sharply, though his voice softened at the end. ”I’m not calling you that so you can go die satisfied.”

Sigora chuckled, tears streaking down her face as she pulled him into a crushing embrace against her chest.

”Then say it again, boy. Say it again so I know it wasn’t a dream.”

Jorghan squirmed, but the fight wasn’t there. His voice was quiet, almost reluctant. ”...Mom.”

Her heart thundered like war drums in her chest.

She closed her eyes, holding him as if he were still the boy she had trained with her own hands. ”That’s all I ever wanted, Jorghan. That’s all.”

And for once, he didn’t pull away.

For the past few days, she hadn’t been herself, and they talked very little. She looked distant and with an expression that she had lost something. So, he had decided to cheer her up, and that’s why he called her mother, and he intends to do so from now on after seeing a smile like that.