Invincible Blood Sorceror

Chapter 215: IMPF

Sigora entered the inner chamber, finding Jorghan standing by the window, staring out at the settlement without really seeing it.

"What did she tell you?" Sigora asked.

"That there’s an organization called the White Seraphyne manipulating events across multiple realms," Jorghan replied.

"That they’re interested in me specifically. That they might be a bigger threat than the Empire or any clan conflict."

He turned to face her.

"Did you know about them?"

"No," Sigora admitted.

"Ekatarina doesn’t seem like someone who believes in conspiracy theories," Jorghan observed.

"No," Sigora agreed.

"She’s one of the most respected shamans in Vael’thoria. If she’s warning you about the White Seraphyne, it’s because she’s seen something that convinced her they’re real."

Jorghan returned his gaze to the window, watching elves go about their daily lives, unaware of the conversation that had just occurred.

The Empire was a known threat, violent, aggressive, but at least understandable. The White Seraphyne, if Ekatarina was correct, was something else entirely. A threat that worked from shadows, that manipulated events across realms, that saw civilizations as game pieces to be moved toward objectives only they understood.

"I need time to think," Jorghan said finally.

"I came back to Vael’thoria planning to integrate the six absorbed clans, establish the Sol’vur settlement at the Colloniel ruins, and prepare for the capital infiltration operation. Now I have to add ’watch for evidence of ancient shadow organization’ to that list."

Sigora moved to stand beside him, her hand resting on his shoulder.

"One problem at a time. Handle what’s immediate and concrete first. The White Seraphyne, if they exist, have been operating for centuries. They’ll still be there after you’ve dealt with more pressing concerns."

"Assuming they don’t decide to accelerate whatever plans they have for me," Jorghan muttered.

"Then you’ll deal with them when the time comes," Sigora replied with confidence that bordered on faith.

"You crossed the void between worlds. You absorbed six dying clans and gained Council recognition. If the White Seraphyne are real and they’re interested in you, they’ve chosen poorly. You’re not the kind of game piece that moves according to someone else’s plan."

Jorghan smiled slightly despite his concerns.

"You have a lot of faith in my ability to resist manipulation."

"I have faith in your stubbornness," Sigora corrected.

"You’re too contrary to let anyone control you, even ancient organizations with cosmic plans. They think they can guide you? They’re welcome to try. But I suspect they’ll find that the Sol’vur bloodline is harder to manipulate than they anticipated."

She squeezed his shoulder gently.

"For now, get some rest. You’ve been to Earth and back in a matter of weeks. Even someone with your stamina needs recovery time."

"I need to check on Sarhita and Katisana."

"They’re fine," Sigora assured him.

"You can meet them later."

Jorghan wanted to argue but recognized the wisdom in her words. He was exhausted, not physically; his bloodline gave him incredible stamina, but mentally.

The journey to Earth, the battles, the emotional weight of everything that had happened with Grace and Scarlett, had all accumulated into a burden that even his enhanced recovery couldn’t immediately address.

"Fine," he conceded.

She left him alone in the chamber, and Jorghan finally allowed himself to truly relax. He collapsed onto the bed, his bed, in his home, on his world, and for the first time in weeks, felt relatively safe.

Outside, the settlement of Brownhill Dunes continued its existence.

Jorghan closed his eyes and let sleep claim him, knowing that tomorrow would bring new challenges, new complications, and new threats to navigate.

But for tonight, he was home.

And that was enough.

***

The Mountain Base - Earth

The military installation was carved into the mountain itself, hundreds of feet of solid rock providing natural shielding from surveillance and attack. It had been built decades before the Convergence, during an era when nations still competed for global dominance through conventional means.

Now it served a different purpose: headquarters for the Interplanetary Military Force, an organization that operated above national governments and beyond the oversight of Earth’s fractured power structures.

Deep within the complex, past security checkpoints that required biometric authentication and essence-signature verification, was the command center. Banks of monitors displayed data feeds from across the planet and beyond, satellite imagery, intelligence reports, and encrypted communications from field operatives scattered across multiple continents.

And on the largest screen, footage played on loop.

The D-Triggon lifting off from the Moorne Estate, rising through Earth’s atmosphere, accelerating toward the void beyond.

Secretary General Cameron Reid sat in her command chair, watching the ship disappear into space for the seventh time. She was in her early fifties, with silver-streaked black hair pulled into a severe bun, dark eyes that missed nothing, and the bearing of someone who’d commanded military forces through the chaos of the Convergence and emerged stronger.

She wore the IMF uniform, midnight blue with gold accents, rank insignia that placed her above any nation’s military hierarchy, and medals representing battles that most Earth citizens didn’t know had been fought.

"Replay the energy signature analysis," she ordered.

One of her subordinates, a young lieutenant with cybernetic enhancements visible at his temples, complied immediately. The main screen shifted to show graphs and spectral analysis of the Triggon’s propulsion systems.

"Swift jump drive using essence-compression principles," the lieutenant reported.

"Technology consistent with what we acquired from Imperial contacts, but refined beyond what we’ve seen in their standard vessels. The Moorne Corporation was holding back. This ship represents capabilities they never reported to our intelligence division."

"Of course they were," Cameron replied, her tone carrying the weariness of someone who’d dealt with too many corporations thinking they were smarter than military oversight.

"Jamie Moorne thought he could build a private empire without consequences. He was wrong."

Another officer, an older woman with the scarred hands of someone who’d fought through the Convergence’s early days, spoke up.

"Ma’am, the target eliminated over three hundred Moorne Corporation security forces, multiple S-Rank awakeners, and key corporate leadership before departing. Should we classify him as an active threat to IMPF?"