Invincible Blood Sorceror

Chapter 168: Your father is a killer

”Ser’gu killed three clans,” the serpent patriarch continued, his voice carrying no heat, just a cold statement of fact.

”Three clan heads almost wiped their clans out. Men, women, children, and elders who’d had nothing to do with the betrayal. He exterminated them because they belonged to the wrong bloodline. After all, their leaders had conspired against him. That’s not justice—that’s genocide.”

His eyes never left Jorghan.

”And now his son sits before us, having demonstrated equal or greater power. He destroyed an Imperial army in less than an hour. Created constructs of blood and fire that existed at scales we thought impossible. Killed thousands of humans without hesitation, without mercy, with the same efficiency his father showed against elves.”

Tadrukein leaned forward slightly.

”So tell me, Jorghan Sol’vur, what happens when this Council makes a decision you don’t like? When we vote against your interests, when we rule in ways that displease you?

Do you accept our authority, or do you do what your father did and drown us in blood until you get your way?”

Several clan heads shifted uncomfortably.

Citrangada’s furred face showed interest rather than concern, as if she was curious how this would play out.

Indriyani’s pale eyes moved between Tadrukein and Jorghan with calculating assessment.

Madayanti’s expression had hardened; clearly this wasn’t the direction she’d wanted the conversation to go, but she couldn’t shut Tadrukein down without appearing to suppress legitimate concerns.

Sigora started to rise, probably intending to defend Jorghan, but he raised his hand slightly, a small gesture that stopped her. His eyes never left Tadrukein’s.

When Jorghan spoke, his voice was quiet. Not weak, but controlled, carrying a weight that made everyone lean forward slightly to ensure they didn’t miss a word.

”You want to know if I’m like my father?” he asked.

”If I kill on whims, if I’m a threat to this Council’s survival?”

He paused, and something shifted in the air around him—not visible at first, but palpable. The temperature seemed to drop fractionally. The stone beneath his throne felt suddenly more solid, as if the mountain itself was responding to his presence.

”Let me address your concern with logic rather than platitudes,” Jorghan continued, his tone still quiet but carrying an edge now.

”First, my father didn’t kill on whim. He killed in response to the systematic murder of his entire family—parents, siblings, everyone he loved slaughtered by elves who smiled to his face while plotting his destruction.

His response was disproportionate, yes.

Brutal, absolutely.

But calling it a ’whim’ is either ignorance or deliberate misrepresentation.”

The air around him began to shimmer, blood essence manifesting not as an attack but as a presence, crimson energy rising like heat waves from stone in summer sun.

”Second,” Jorghan’s voice carried more force now, ”you compare killing three clans of elves who betrayed him to killing thousands of Imperial soldiers who came to slaughter innocent settlements.

Do you not see the difference?

One was vengeance taken too far. The other was defense against an active, ongoing threat. They’re not equivalent, and pretending they are suggests you’re more interested in creating doubt than seeking truth.”

His hands gripped the armrests of his throne, and several clan heads noticed his knuckles were white with pressure, the stone beneath his fingers actually beginning to crack.

”Third—and this is where your logic completely fails—you ask what I’ll do when the Council rules against me.”

Jorghan’s eyes blazed brighter, the crimson glow becoming visible even in the well-lit chamber. ”You assume I need the Council’s approval to act. You assume I’m seeking legitimacy because I require your authority to survive.”

He stood, and the moment he did, his aura exploded outward.

Not literally—no blood essence attacked, no transformation occurred, and no violence manifested. But his presence expanded and filled the space, and every elf in the chamber felt it like pressure against their skin. It was power barely contained, force held in check by will alone, and it carried a promise: I could end all of you if I chose to.

”Let me make something absolutely clear,” Jorghan said, his voice still controlled but vibrating with intensity that made the air itself seem to resonate.

”I am one army. Not metaphorically—literally. I stood against thousands of Imperial soldiers and won. I destroyed the creatures they bred to destroy your clans. I turned an entire desert into my weapon. I could leave this Council right now, walk out that door, and nothing you do would stop me.”

He took a step forward, away from his throne, and several clan heads unconsciously tensed.

”I don’t need your recognition to survive,” Jorghan continued.

”I don’t need your approval to defend the territories I’ve claimed. I don’t need your authority to act when threats emerge. So when you ask what I’ll do when the Council rules against me—the answer is simple: I’ll accept your ruling and work within your structure, because I’m choosing to, not because you can force me to.”

His aura intensified, and for a moment—just a heartbeat—every elf in that chamber saw not Jorghan but a shadow of his father.

Ser’gu Sol’vur, standing in that same space decades ago, power incarnate, the Berserk Monarch who’d made twelve clans shiver in fear through sheer overwhelming force.

But this wasn’t just Ser’gu’s echo.

This was something more dangerous—the same power, but guided by sharper intelligence, more controlled fury, and strategic thinking his father had lacked in his grief-maddened state.

He didn’t seem like the reckless Ser’gu they all knew.

”My father,” Jorghan said, his voice dropping back to quiet intensity, ”was naive. He thought friendship mattered more than politics. He believed the elves who smiled at him were truly his allies. When he was betrayed, when his family was murdered, he responded with pure emotion—rage and grief overwhelming judgment.”

He looked directly at Tadrukein.

”I am not naive. I know exactly what this Council is—a political structure designed to prevent any single clan from becoming too powerful, to maintain balance through collective authority. I know that half of you fear me, a quarter of you want to use me, and maybe—maybe-a-handful actually care whether I live or die beyond how it affects your interests.”