Chapter 47: You are a selfish bast***
Sigora, despite her wounds, felt the shift immediately.
The carefully constructed seals she had woven around Jorghan’s mana core six years ago—seals that had required nearly all her considerable power as a Nine-Star mage—began to crack like ice under boiling water. Her emerald eyes widened in horror as she realized what was happening.
"Jorghan, no!" She gasped, reaching out toward him with a bloodied hand. "You must control it! The seals aren’t ready to—"
Her words were lost as the first seal shattered.
The red tattoo on Jorghan’s neck, which had always been little more than a thin line resembling a simple birthmark, suddenly blazed to life. Crimson tendrils of ancient script began to spread across his pale skin like living flame, each symbol carrying the weight of a bloodline that predated the current age of magic.
The markings crawled down his arms, across his chest, each new glyph that appeared causing the air around him to shimmer with raw, untamed power.
[SEAL ONE: BROKEN]
[MANA CAPACITY EXPANDING: 109%... 128%... 139%...]
[BLOODLINE ABILITY UNLOCKING]
Hawkin, who had been savoring his apparent victory over the elven forces, felt his smugness falter as an oppressive aura began to emanate from his nephew.
Korreth, No’tra, and others stared at him with wide eyes. They could feel the mana flaring like a volcano eruption.
Yvonne gulped as she stepped back, involuntarily.
Radulff’s eyes popped out as he rubbed them; he couldn’t believe what he was watching.
"That brat, was he holding back against me?" he thought to himself.
The air itself seemed to thicken, pressing down on everyone present with the weight of something far beyond their comprehension.
The veteran commander’s battle-hardened instincts screamed danger, though his mind struggled to process what his senses were telling him.
The second seal cracked, sending shockwaves of pure mana rippling outward.
Several of Hawkin’s soldiers stumbled backward, their faces pale with primal fear. The very stones beneath Jorghan’s feet began to glow with residual heat, and small flames danced along the ground in perfect circles around him.
[SEAL TWO: BROKEN]
[MANA CAPACITY: 142%... 157%... 169%...]
[BLOODLINE ABILITY: CARNAGE REQUIEM AWAKENING - 67% UNLOCK RATE]
[SEVEN STAR BLOOD DEVIANT STATUS CONFIRMED]
Jorghan’s eyes, once a warm brown reminiscent of his father’s, now glowed with the intensity of molten lava. His hair, dark and unruly moments before, transformed into flowing strands of brilliant red that seemed to burn without consuming. Each strand moved as if alive, defying gravity and wind alike. But it was his voice, when he spoke again, that truly announced the magnitude of what was occurring.
"Uncle!" he said, and the word carried the accumulated pain and rage of six years.
The sound reverberated through the battlefield, causing even the surface to groan once again.
"You killed my father. You destroyed my clan. You thought you killed me too."
The third seal didn’t simply break—it exploded.
[SEAL THREE: CATASTROPHIC FAILURE]
[MANA CAPACITY: 175% AND STABILIZING]
[NINE STAR POWER LEVEL ACHIEVED]
[BLOODLINE ABILITY: ALAERA EXCIDII MANIFESTING]
[MANA DEVOURING ATTRIBUTE: FULLY UNLOCKED]
The transformation that followed defied everything Sigora thought she knew about magical awakening.
From Jorghan’s shoulder blades, four magnificent wings erupted in a display of power that left even the ancient elf speechless. The larger pair, spanning nearly thirteen feet from tip to tip, appeared to be crafted from living lava—molten rock that flowed and shifted while maintaining perfect structural integrity.
The smaller, inner pair glowed with concentrated mana that made the air around them ripple like heat mirages.
Both sets of wings pulsed with veins of pure energy that matched the tattoos now covering most of Jorghan’s upper body.
Alaera Excidii, whispered the ancient knowledge flooding his consciousness.
Wings of Extermination.
The signature manifestation of the Sol’vur bloodline’s most devastating legacy.
Hawkin’s face had gone from confident to concerned to genuinely afraid in the span of heartbeats.
He was a seasoned military commander who had faced down dragons and demon lords, but the power radiating from this child—his own nephew—was something entirely different. It carried the weight of extinction, the promise of an absolute ending.
"Impossible," Hawkin breathed.
"The Sol’vur line was completely eliminated. It was supposed to be a myth; they said no one can reach that level—"
"You burned bodies," Jorghan interrupted, rising slowly from the ground as his wings beat with controlled power.
"But you never found mine, did you? Because she saved me."
His gaze shifted momentarily to Sigora, who was struggling to remain upright despite her wounds.
"She pulled me from the flames and sealed my power so I could grow up safely. But that time is over."
[BLOODBORNE RAGE: MAXIMUM THRESHOLD]
[ALL SYSTEMS: COMBAT READY]
[CARNAGE REQUIEM: AWAITING TARGET DESIGNATION]
Sigora, realizing that her seals had not merely broken but had been completely obliterated by the sheer force of Jorghan’s awakening, made a desperate decision.
Despite her injuries, she began gathering what remained of her considerable mana.
Complex sigiled circles appeared around her, each one glowing with the deep emerald light of ancient elven magic. The circular patterns were incredibly intricate, requiring years of study to even comprehend, let alone cast.
The effect was immediate and startling.
The massive turtle-rock, which had been their home all this while, suddenly shuddered to life with renewed vigor. Its enormous head came out of the rock underside, its ancient eyes glowing with shared purpose, and then large pale red feathered wings sprang out in both directions of the isle—wings that spanned nearly two hundred feet—spread wide on either side of its shell.
The human forces, already shaken by Jorghan’s transformation, now faced the reality of a living mountain taking active interest in their battle.
Soldiers who had been advancing moments before now stood frozen in terror as the turtle’s massive form began to orient itself for what could only be an attack run.
But Hawkin, for all his faults, was not a man easily cowed.
Seeing the tactical situation shifting rapidly against him, he raised his sword high and shouted, "All siege engines, target the beast! Fire everything we have!"
The order galvanized his forces back into action, but before the first catapult could release its payload, Jorghan simply... arose.
The speed of his movement defied comprehension.
One moment he had been floating thirty feet away; the next he stood directly before Hawkin, close enough that his uncle could see the intricate details of the tattoos still spreading across his nephew’s skin.
The displacement of air from his sudden arrival sent several nearby soldiers tumbling backward, their armor ringing against stone.
"No," Jorghan said simply, his voice now carrying harmonics that seemed to resonate in multiple spaces.
"You’ve hurt enough people today."