Invincible Blood Sorceror

Chapter 185: Attack on the way home

They spoke for several minutes about potential trade agreements, intelligence sharing, and mutual defense considerations. But underneath the formal conversation, Jorghan detected something else in Yasoraga’s dark eyes, in the way she positioned herself, in subtle cues of body language.

She was assessing him not just as a political ally but as a potential partner.

The realization was confirmed when, as she prepared to leave, Yasoraga said casually, ”The Ma’ulankr have always valued strategic bloodline alliances. Should you find yourself interested in exploring such arrangements, we should speak further.”

Before Jorghan could respond, she’d departed, leaving the implication hanging in the air.

Not an hour later, Naikini of the Sarpetaretsu clan arrived, her scaled skin catching the light, her golden ornaments chiming softly with her movements.

”Leaving so soon?” she asked with a smile that showed more warmth than most of their previous interactions. ”And here I was hoping we’d have more opportunities to speak. You’re far more interesting than most Council members—actually willing to take risks rather than just debating endlessly.”

They discussed the capital operation, with Naikini offering insights about Imperial security protocols that her clan’s intelligence network had gathered. But again, underneath the practical conversation, Jorghan sensed personal interest that went beyond political alliance.

”When you return from the capital operation,” Naikini said as she prepared to leave, ”we should spend time together. The Sarpetaretsu would benefit from closer ties with Sol’vur, and I suspect we’d find each other’s company... stimulating.”

After she left, Jorghan stood in the now-quiet quarters and processed the pattern.

Three powerful matriarchs in less than a day, all essentially propositioning him for breeding alliances, dressed in varying degrees of diplomatic language. Madayanti’s offer had been most direct, Yasoraga’s more subtle, Naikini’s almost playful, but the underlying message was identical.

The Sol’vur bloodline had value. His demonstrated power made him a desirable partner for strengthening other clans’ genetics. And every major female leader in the Council was apparently calculating whether alliance with him served their strategic interests.

It was flattering, politically significant, and deeply exhausting to contemplate.

Sigora appeared in the doorway, observing his expression with knowing amusement. ”You look like someone who’s just realized he’s become the most eligible bachelor in clan politics.”

”Three marriage proposals in twelve hours,” Jorghan said. ”Well, breeding proposals. None of them mentioned actual marriage.”

”Because marriage implies emotional attachment and shared authority,” Sigora replied. ”They want your genetics and political alliance, not necessarily your companionship or power-sharing. It’s more honest that way.”

”It’s also complicated,” Jorghan muttered. ”I don’t have time for this right now.”

”You’ll have to deal with it eventually,” Sigora said. ”You’re building a power bloc, absorbing clans, positioning Sol’vur as a major force. Other clans will want to ally with that power, and breeding alliances are traditional mechanisms for doing so. Refusing everyone would be politically costly.”

Jorghan sighed, recognizing the truth of her words but not particularly happy about it. ”Later. After the capital operation, after establishing Sol’vur infrastructure. One crisis at a time.”

They finished packing and made their way to the departure platforms. The six absorbed clan leaders waited there, having already arranged their own transport back to their territories.

Jorghan addressed them briefly. ”Meet me at the Nuwe’rak settlement in ten days. Bring your full inventory reports, your people ready for relocation to whatever territories I designate, and recommendations for individuals capable of contributing to the capital operation. We have much work ahead.”

The six bowed with the subordination they’d committed to, acknowledging their new lord’s instructions.

The massive white Swarafa waited on the platform with the carriage Sigora had arranged. They boarded, and with powerful wing beats, the creature lifted them into the sky.

Dewura’tt fell away below—the ancient city, the eternal waterfall, the abyss that had witnessed countless generations of clan politics and would witness countless more.

Jorghan watched it recede, his mind already shifting to the next priorities. The Colloniel ruins needed surveying. The six clans required integration planning. The capital operation demanded team selection and tactical preparation.

But first, they had to actually reach the desert settlements safely.

-

They’d been flying for perhaps three hours, Dewura’tt long disappeared behind them, and the desert spreading endlessly ahead, when Kaleth suddenly shrieked—a sound of alarm rather than simple vocalization.

The Swarafa banked hard, nearly throwing Jorghan against the carriage wall, his enhanced reflexes the only thing preventing injury. Sigora grabbed the support rails, her expression shifting instantly from relaxed travel mode to combat alertness.

”What—” Jorghan started.

The carriage shuddered as something impacted it from below. Not hard enough to breach the reinforced structure, but sufficient to make Kaleth struggle to maintain altitude.

Jorghan moved to the carriage’s observation window, looking down to identify the threat.

At first, he saw nothing unusual—just desert dunes in afternoon sunlight, endless sand sculpted by wind into familiar patterns.

Then the movement caught his eye. Figures emerging from sand that should have been too shallow to hide anything, rising with impossible speed, humanoid shapes that defied normal physics.

”Kaleth, descend to low altitude,” Jorghan ordered, recognizing that staying airborne with unknown attackers targeting them was tactically unsound.

The Swarafa complied, dropping toward the desert with controlled descent despite his obvious fear. They touched down perhaps two hundred yards from the ambush point, the carriage’s landing jarring but manageable.

Jorghan exited immediately, blood essence already manifesting around his hands in crimson spirals. Sigora followed, her own combat magic activating, earth essence responding to her call.

The attackers approached with disturbing speed and absolute silence.

They were humanoid in basic shape but wrong in every detail. Seven feet tall, muscular frames that suggested strength beyond human norms, skin that looked like tanned leather stretched over too-prominent bones. Their faces were almost human but simplified, as if someone had carved the concept of a human face without understanding the subtle details that made it truly alive.

But their eyes—their eyes were completely black, no whites, no pupils, just absolute darkness that absorbed light without reflecting it.

Trained beasts, Jorghan realized. Not natural creatures but something created, modified, designed for a specific purpose. And that purpose, based on how they were positioning themselves in tactical formation, was killing.

”Sol’vur,” one of them said, its voice carrying unnatural harmonics like multiple speakers slightly out of sync. ”Target confirmed. Eliminate.”

They attacked with coordinated precision that confirmed extensive training.