He was already moving to the second ship, blood essence manifesting around his hands in concentrating spirals. This time, he didn't use a ranged attack; instead, he flew directly at the ship's hull, his right fist leading, blood essence coating his arm in layers so dense they became visible as a crimson gauntlet extending thirty feet beyond his actual hand.

"Berserk Lord Fist: Heaven-Shattering Impact!"

The punch connected, and the entire airship, a vessel three hundred feet long and weighing thousands of tons, crumpled around the point of impact. Metal shrieked, internal structures collapsed, and the ship folded in on itself like an aluminum can being crushed.

It began falling, trailing smoke and debris, and before it could hit the ground, Jorghan had moved to the third ship.

This one tried to fight back, point-defense turrets tracking his approach, firing streams of energy and solid rounds at rates measured in thousands per second.

Jorghan flew through the defensive fire without slowing, his blood essence barrier absorbing impacts that would have vaporized anything less protected. He reached the ship's broadside and placed both hands against the hull.

Blood essence flowed from his palms into the ship's structure, seeping through microscopic gaps and infiltrating the interior. Once inside, it spread like a virus, touching every system, every power conduit, and every crew member.

Then Jorghan clenched his fists.

The blood essence detonated simultaneously throughout the entire ship—not a single large explosion, but thousands of small ones, each positioned to cause maximum structural damage. The airship didn't explode so much as come apart, fragmenting into pieces that rained down across the desert.

Three ships down.

Three to go.

The remaining vessels had begun emergency combat separation, spreading out to make themselves harder to engage simultaneously.

It was sound tactics against a conventional threat.

Jorghan wasn't conventional.

He raised both hands above his head, blood essence and elemental magic gathering in quantities that made the air itself glow. The power built for three full seconds, an eternity in combat but the fleeing ships couldn't escape in that time, couldn't achieve the velocity needed to outrun what was coming.

"BLOOS EMPEROR'S ULTIMATE TECHNIQUE: BLOOD PHOENIX EXTINCTION FORMATION!"

The gathered power took shape as three massive constructs in the form of phoenixes, each one composed of blood essence and fire merged so completely they became indistinguishable. Each bird was a hundred feet from beak to tail, with wings spread two hundred feet, blazing with heat that approached stellar temperatures.

They launched from Jorghan's position with speed that exceeded sound, trails of fire and blood marking their paths, three crimson comets tracking toward three different targets.

The first phoenix struck its target ship head-on, penetrating the bow and continuing straight through the vessel's length, its passage creating a tunnel of molten metal and vaporized crew. It emerged from the stern and circled back for a second pass, this time striking the ship's keel and detonating in an explosion that scattered wreckage across five square miles.

The second phoenix circled its target, faster than the ship's turrets could track, weaving through defensive fire with predatory intelligence. It struck the ship's energy core from below, and the resulting explosion created a fireball visible from the elf settlements, a mushroom cloud that rose thousands of feet into the desert sky.

The third phoenix demonstrated different tactics; instead of penetrating or circling, it simply landed on its target ship's upper hull and began burning. The construct's temperature was sufficient to melt through advanced alloys in seconds, and the phoenix worked its way methodically through the ship's structure, carving passages and collapsing supports, until the entire vessel's integrity failed and it fell from the sky in pieces.

[Imperial Fleet Destroyed: 6/6 vessels]

[Estimated Casualties: 23800+ personnel]

[Blood Essence Absorbed: 23,800 units]

[WARNING: ESSENCE OVERFLOW CRITICAL]

[Current Absorption: 21,750+ total units]

[Bloodline Evolution: IMMINENT]

[Cannot contain additional essence - Must expend or transform]

Jorghan descended back toward the battlefield, his body radiating power so intense that the air around him shimmered with heat distortion.

The blood sea he'd created still covered the desert, and as he approached, it rose to meet him, forming a platform beneath his feet, lifting him so all could see.

He was overflowing with blood essence, and the bloodline progression was hitting the mark, but not fully. He was monitoring the progress. It hadn't reached the goal yet.

Of the Imperial army, nothing remained but corpses and wreckage.

Nearly four thousand soldiers dead. Six airships destroyed. Forty Haelves already fallen earlier in the battle. The combined military might of an Imperial sector deployment—annihilated by a single individual in less than an hour.

Jorghan stood in the center of the carnage, his transformed frame painted crimson with blood, both his own and his enemies', his eyes blazing with power that threatened to consume him if he didn't release it.

But the battle wasn't quite over.

At the crater's edge, barely visible through the smoke and destruction, Constance had finally reached the medical transport. She'd loaded Caden's broken body into the vehicle, and now it was lifting off, engines screaming as they pushed toward maximum velocity, trying to escape before—

Jorghan's eyes locked onto the fleeing transport.

He could destroy it.

Should destroy it by any tactical measure. Leave no survivors to report back, no enemies to become future threats.

His hand rose, blood essence gathering for one final attack.

But something stopped him.

Not mercy—he'd gone too far beyond mercy to claim that motivation.

Not exhaustion—he had power to spare, overflowing essence demanding release.

It was a calculation.

A survivor to report what happened here would serve his purposes better than complete annihilation.

Let Constance return to the Empire with her dying brother. Let them tell their masters what it cost to attack the desert clans. Let the fear spread through Imperial command structures, making them hesitate before sending more forces.

Sometimes the message was more valuable than the kill.

Jorghan lowered his hand and watched the transport disappear into the distance.

The blood sea began to recede, essence flowing back toward him, absorbing into his body despite being at maximum capacity. The overflow triggered transformation—not evolution into something greater, but refinement of what he already was, his bloodline adapting to handle these quantities of power, his physical form becoming more efficient at channeling essence.

With few of soldiers that were scattered here and there, the entire army which came to attack the elves had been wiped away along with the machines they brought.

[[Blood Essence Absorbed: 37,541]

[Bloodline Refinement: Complete]

[New Baseline Established: Enhanced capacity for essence manipulation]

[Transformation Efficiency: Increased]

[Recovery Rate: Improved]

[Immemorial-Class Techniques: Now available without critical essence expenditure]

The notifications faded as Jorghan's transformation began to recede. His height decreased back toward normal, his features softening from the predatory sharpness they'd taken during full combat mode.

By the time he reached the ground, he was simply Jorghan again, exhausted beyond measure, every muscle screaming, his essence reserves depleted despite the massive absorption, barely able to stand.

But victorious.

He'd faced an army, destroyed a fleet, and proven that the Berserk Lord bloodline wasn't just legend but terrible reality.

And in the settlements behind him, four thousand elves stood in absolute silence, trying to process what they'd just witnessed.

Thel'endra's voice broke the silence, barely a whisper but carrying clearly in the shocked quiet.

"What a freakking monster!"

Around her, heads nodded—not just Ma'ulankr, but also Nuwe'rak, Nue'roka, and Nor'vack. Every elf who'd watched the battle understood the same truth.

They'd just witnessed the birth of a legend.

And that legend was standing with them, protecting them, bleeding for them.

The Empire had learned a terrible lesson today.

Now the question was whether they'd be smart enough to remember it.

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