And they were learning that overwhelming force and perfect coordination weren't enough against someone who could reshape the battlefield itself, who could turn their own enhanced blood against them, who fought with a combination of raw power and tactical intelligence that exceeded anything they'd been programmed to handle.

But they didn't retreat.

Couldn't retreat.

Their programming wouldn't allow it.

So they adapted their tactics again, this time spreading out more, attacking from maximum range, and trying to wear him down through attrition rather than confrontation.

It was a sound strategy.

It wouldn't save them.

Jorghan's eyes blazed brighter, the bloodline offering more possibilities, more abilities, and more ways to kill those who threatened his family.

And he embraced every single one.

The slaughter continued.

-

Imperial Command Post - Northern Ridge

Constance watched through enhanced vision as her Haelves died one by one, her expression carved from ice.

"He's stronger than the reports indicated," she said coldly.

"Significantly stronger."

Caden's jaw was tight, his tactical displays updating with each Haelve casualty.

"Eleven units lost in less than five minutes. At this rate, we'll lose the entire deployment within half an hour."

"Should we withdraw the Haelves?" an officer asked nervously.

"No," Constance said flatly.

"They're doing what they were designed to do—testing his capabilities, exhausting his reserves, providing tactical data. Every second they survive, we learn more about how he fights."

"Expensive education," Caden muttered, but he didn't countermand his sister's order. She was right—the Haelves were weapons, and weapons were meant to be expended if it meant mission success.

"Prepare the artillery," Constance ordered.

"Once the Haelve engagement concludes, we saturate the area. If we can't capture him, we eliminate him. Either way, the threat ends today."

On the battlefield below, another Haelve fell, its spine crushed by Jorghan's blood-enhanced grip.

Twelve dead.

Twenty-eight to go.

And the Berserk Monarch's heir showed no signs of slowing down.

-

The God of War

Settlement Observation Point

The assembled elves stood in absolute silence, watching the impossible unfold before them.

"He's... he's fighting all forty of them," one of the Nuwe'rak warriors whispered, his voice shaking. "Alone."

"Not fighting," Ka'ltun corrected, his eyes wide with awe.

"Slaughtering."

Sarhita stood along with others; Sigora's children were also present, and Scarlett too. She was beyong scared when she heard that they were being attacked. She came quickly; Grace came with her and saw what Jorghan had become, and it felt like something unreal and bewildering to her.

When Scarlett said that it was Jorghan, that being who was like a warlord tearing through his way, those tall beings, she felt a mixture of fear and disbelief. She had never seen anything like it before, and the sight was both terrifying and mesmerizing.

Thel'endra stood at the forefront of the Ma'ulankr delegation, her eyes tracking every movement on the battlefield with enhanced vision that let her see details the others couldn't. Her earlier skepticism had evaporated, replaced by something between shock and reluctant admiration.

"I was wrong," she said quietly, the admission clearly painful.

"About him. About everything."

One of her warriors glanced at her in surprise.

"Commander?"

"The Berserk Lords weren't legends exaggerated by time," Thel'endra continued, her voice carrying a mix of wonder and dread.

"They were undersold. If this is what one heir can do, what must the originals have been capable of?"

Sarhita's hands were clenched so tight her knuckles had gone white. "He's taking damage. I can see it—they're landing hits."

"And healing from them almost instantly," Katisana observed.

"Look at his shoulder—that Haelve tore through muscle tissue. It's already regenerating."

Sigora's expression was conflicted—pride warring with maternal fear.

"He's absorbing their blood. Every kill makes him stronger."

"That's not possible," one of the Ma'ulankr warriors protested.

"Apparently not anymore," Thel'endra said, her tone carrying new respect.

"He's evolved beyond what the historical records described. Or perhaps he's remembering what was lost."

Korreth watched in silence, his massive frame tense. He hadn't expected a halfling like Jorghan to be capable of wielding such power, and it made him feel pathetic to underestimate him.

"He'll survive," Vel'sara said with conviction.

"Look at him. That's not someone struggling. That's someone who's finally stopped holding back."

On the battlefield, another Haelve fell, its chest cavity crushed by a blood-enhanced strike.

Thirteen dead.

"Mother of ancestors," Morden breathed.

"He's magnificent."

-

Jorghan could feel the blood essence flowing through him in quantities that should have been overwhelming. Each Haelve he killed released its blood—enhanced, potent, and rich with the genetic modifications the Empire had poured into these creatures. And his bloodline was drinking it in, converting death into power and carnage into fuel.

[Blood Absorption: Active]

[Elves Blood Detected: Enhanced Genetic Material]

[Essence Quality: Superior]

[Current Absorption: 13 Units]

[Bloodborne Rage: 100% - Sustained]

[Essence Conversion - Consume defeated enemies' blood to replenish reserves and enhance physical parameters]

[Warning: Excessive absorption may trigger unstable mutation]

[Current Status: Stable - Bloodline adapting to enhanced intake]

[Bloodline progression by 0.1%]

The blood he absorbed was helping his bloodline progress too. Just how many clans had their sacrifices to achieve this level of genetics, Jorghan wondered.

The system notifications floated at the edge of his consciousness, but Jorghan barely registered them. He was too focused on the twenty-seven Haelves still surrounding him, still trying to coordinate attacks, still believing they could overwhelm him through superior numbers and tactics.

They were wrong.

And he was done being patient.

Jorghan raised both hands, blood essence responding to his will on a scale he'd never attempted before.

Not small manifestations, not precise constructs—but raw, overwhelming volume. The blood of thirteen dead Haelves erupted from where their bodies lay scattered across the sand, rising into the air in crimson streams that defied gravity.

The streams converged above him, spiraling together, becoming a vortex of blood that rotated faster and faster, building momentum and force.

The air screamed as it was drawn into the rotation, sand lifting from the ground, reality itself seeming to strain under the pressure of what Jorghan was creating.

The Haelves recognized the danger and tried to scatter, their enhanced instincts screaming warnings.

Too late.

Jorghan thrust his hands forward, and the vortex exploded outward.

Not as a dispersed wave, but as a concentrated blast—a wall of blood essence moving with the force of a hurricane and the precision of a surgical strike. It swept across the battlefield like the wrath of an angry god, catching Haelves mid-stride, mid-dodge, and mid-desperate-attempt-to-escape.

The impact was devastating.

Haelves were thrown like leaves in a storm, their nine-foot frames helpless against forces that exceeded anything their enhanced durability was designed to withstand. Blood essence—solid one moment, liquid the next, existing in states that shouldn't be possible—tore through their bodies, through their armor, through everything.

They fell like petals in a storm.

Five died instantly, their bodies so thoroughly destroyed by the blast that they simply came apart, reduced to component pieces scattered across the sand.

Three more landed broken, their reinforced bones shattered, their enhanced organs ruptured, dying slowly as their bodies tried and failed to repair catastrophic damage.

The remaining nineteen survived—barely—but they were hurt and disoriented, their perfect coordination shattered by an attack that had turned the battlefield into a slaughterhouse.

And Jorghan didn't give them time to recover.

He moved through the carnage like death incarnate, his eight-foot-three frame drenched in blood—some his own, most belonging to his enemies. His pale red skin was painted crimson, his dark hair matted and dripping, but his eyes blazed with undiminished fury.

He reached the nearest injured Haelve as it tried to stand on a broken leg.

His fist came down on the back of its skull with enough force to drive its face into the sand, then through the sand, cratering the ground beneath. The Haelve twitched once and went still.

[Blood Absorption: 14 Units]

[Essence Reserves: 73% and climbing]

[Physical Enhancement: +15% strength, +12% speed, +18% regeneration]

The next Haelve managed to raise its arms in defense.

Jorghan grabbed one arm and twisted, his enhanced strength augmented by the blood he'd absorbed, and the reinforced bones gave way with sounds like snapping tree branches. He used the broken arm as leverage, spinning the Haelve around and hurling it into two of its approaching companions, bowling all three over.

Before they could untangle themselves, blood essence erupted from the sand beneath them—spears of crystallized crimson that pierced upward through backs and chests and throats, killing all three in a single coordinated strike.

[Blood Absorption: 17 Units]

His attacks had become lethal, each movement flowing seamlessly into the next, no wasted motion, no hesitation, just pure, efficient violence.

Where before he'd been fighting defensively, countering their coordination with careful tactics, now he was the aggressor, the predator, the god of war bringing ruin to those who'd dared threaten his family.

A Haelve charged from his blind side, moving with desperate speed, perhaps hoping to catch him unaware.

Jorghan didn't even turn his head.

Blood essence manifested behind him without conscious thought, forming a barrier that caught the Haelve mid-charge. The creature struggled against the crimson construct for perhaps two seconds before the essence constricted, crushing it like an insect.

[Blood Absorption: 18 Units]

[Essence Reserves: 81%]

[Bloodline Evolution: Processing enhanced genetic material]

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