She hadn't spoken much since he'd pulled her from that gilded cage, but the tension in her shoulders had begun to ease with each mile they put between themselves and her captors.

Jorghan studied her profile as they walked.

Seven feet tall, slender but strong, with movements that spoke of a warrior's training beneath the refinement. The way she carried herself, the defiant set of her jaw, and the fierce independence in her gaze.

"We should stop soon," Sarhita said, her voice breaking his reverie.

It was the first time she'd spoken in over an hour.

"The Garkho Plains begin just beyond that ridge. If we camp on the border, we'll have options come morning—the grasslands offer cover, but also exposure."

Jorghan nodded, impressed by her tactical thinking.

You know this region well?"

"The Nuwe'rak clan has... extensive territories," she said carefully.

"We travel. We trade. We observe."

Her gold eyes flickered to him, assessing. "You're not from the Empire, are you? Your fighting style—when you took down those guards—it was nothing like the formal techniques of the Imperial schools."

He smiled slightly. "Very observant. But how would you know about the fighting style of the imperial schools?"

"I'm alive because I pay attention," she replied, a hint of steel in her tone.

"Those who don't pay attention in my world end up dead or married to men old enough to be their great-grandfather."

"And like I said, I am very much interested in the affairs of humans. Speaking of which, you look like you are one of them, yet not.

Jorghan just shrugged and remained silent.

Sarhita didn't probe any further. She could tell he was a half-elf, and the power he wielded told her that he was not an ordinary individual.

Keeping her thoughts to herself, she just followed him.

They found a suitable camping spot as dusk settled over the landscape—a small depression surrounded by ancient trees, with a clear sightline to the approaching plains but enough cover to hide a small fire.

Jorghan set about gathering wood while Sarhita examined their surroundings with the thoroughness of someone trained in survival.

As he worked, he felt the familiar pulse of his [Mana Devouring Attribute], drawing ambient energy from the environment.

It was subtle and unconscious now, like breathing.

The forest was rich with life force, with the natural magic that permeated this world, and his body absorbed it constantly, refining it, storing it.

This was part of what made him dangerous.

Most people needed potions, meditation, and controlled environments to replenish their reserves. Jorghan simply existed, and the world fed him.

[Mana Reserves: 576%]

[Seven Star Blood Deviant Status: Optimal]

[Bloodline Ability: Carnage Requiem—Advanced]

[Bloodborne Rage—Dominant]

[Bloodhound Creed]

"Fire's ready," Sarhita announced, sparks of magic dancing between her fingers as she ignited the carefully arranged kindling. Her control was exquisite, the flames responding to her will with precision that spoke of significant training.

"I'd guess you're wondering about what I said earlier."

Jorghan settled across from her, the fire casting dancing shadows across both their faces. "About being forced to marry?"

"About all of it," she said, pulling her long, dark hair over one shoulder.

In the firelight, her pale red skin took on an almost ethereal quality, and those liquid gold eyes seemed to glow with their own inner light.

"About why I'm here, why I chose to trust a stranger, and why I threw away everything I knew."

She paused, studying him with an intensity that made him acutely aware of his own carefully maintained masks.

"I was being forced to marry the patriarch of the Nue'roka clan," she began, her voice steady but edged with carefully controlled anger.

"El'ran, the Defiant, they call him. Seven hundred years old, if the records are accurate. Powerful, cunning, and absolutely certain that adding the Nuwe'rak clan's bloodline to his own through marriage would secure his family's dominance for another millennium."

"Seven hundred years?" Jorghan couldn't hide his surprise.

"That's—"

"Impossible by most standards, yes," Sarhita confirmed.

"But the red-skinned elf clans have always been different. We live longer than humans, age slower, and the truly powerful among us can extend their lives through various means. El'ran has mastered several such techniques."

"My father thinks that this marriage will save the lives of many elves, from both sides. We have been killing each other for as long as I can remember. I even remember that old crook killing off our old patriarch. Now he wants to marry me; he can shove his dick in his ass and call it a day. I refuse to be a pawn in his twisted game of power and control," Sarhita declared with determination.

Jorghan chuckled softly, hearing her curse.

She looked at him with a serious expression. "I'm serious. I don't want that old crook to marry me, that's why I ran away."

She stirred the fire with a stick, sparks rising into the darkening sky.

"I didn't want to spend my life producing heirs to secure alliances I never chose." Her voice dropped lower. "I wanted something else. Something more."

"What did you want?" Jorghan asked quietly.

Those gold eyes met his again, and this time he saw not just defiance but genuine yearning.

"I wanted to see the new world. The world that's emerging from the changes the terraspers brought. I wanted to be part of something dynamic, something evolving, rather than trapped in the same cycles my ancestors have repeated for millennia."

"Terraspers?" The word was unfamiliar, though it carried interesting linguistic implications. "You mean—"

"The humans from that blue planet," Sarhita confirmed.

"That's what they are called. You didn't know?"

He shook his head; he wasn't familiar with the word. All these years, he had completely ignored what was happening and the progress of the current world after the convergence.

She leaned forward, motion entering her features for the first time since they'd met.

"Jorghan, the humans of that other world have brought so much change to our land. It started about seven years ago, though the information was tightly controlled at first. They arrived in the Holy Empire—appearing there through means even the greatest scholars can't fully explain—and met with the Greatall Father Emperor himself."

"The Emperor?" Jorghan had heard the name spoken with reverence and fear in equal measure. The Holy Empire dominated the central continent, its influence spreading like roots through every neighboring territory. It was like a giant powerhouse, and one that Hawkin gained power from. He heard many stories from Sigora too but never really knew what it actually was.

Was it really that powerful? Like the people say, he wondered.

"I've heard stories, but never anything concrete."

"No one knows much that's concrete," Sarhita admitted.

"Moreover, elves don't care much about the humans."

"But they fascinate me, so I learned about them and visited their lands too. Their technology and the functioning of those huge ships, their automated machines and weapons—it's all so advanced and mysterious," she mused.

"The Empire guards its secrets well. But what we do know is extraordinary. The terraspers came with knowledge, with technology, and with concepts utterly foreign to our world. And the Emperor—cunning beyond measure—made a deal with them."

She pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them in a gesture that made her look younger and more vulnerable.

"They taught the humans of our land to use strange machinery. Devices that operate on principles that have nothing to do with magic, nothing to do with the old ways. I've heard reports of weapons that can strike from impossible distances, of carriages that move without horses, of tools that can perform calculations faster than the most brilliant mathematical minds."

Jorghan thought back to his encounter with Hawkin, to the armor the man had worn.

It had been unlike anything he'd encountered before—sleek, integrated, and responding to its wearer's movements with uncanny precision. The way it had absorbed and redirected magical attacks suggested principles of design completely foreign to traditional magical item crafting.

"I fought someone wearing armor like that," he said slowly.

"A knight, one of the Duchy's enforcers. The armor was... wrong. Not in a bad way, necessarily, but fundamentally different from anything our world produces naturally."

Sarhita's eyes widened. "You fought a knight? One of the Imperial Paladins? And you're alive?"

She went on to describe the Paladins of the empire, utterly loyal to the empire and the Greatall Father Emperor.

Only Paladins of the empire were given such armor, and it was called the Aegirmeka. One of the greatest inventions of the empire, a machine merged with mana and driven by a human. The Aegirmeka armor was said to enhance the wearer's strength and abilities to supernatural levels, making them nearly unbeatable in battle. It was a symbol of power and authority, striking fear into the hearts of those who dared to oppose the empire.

"I'm full of surprises," Jorghan said with a slight smile, deliberately deflecting.

He wasn't ready to explain the full extent of what had happened in that fight or how he was able to win against such a powerful paladin.

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