Chapter 73: Terrasper humans
He wasn’t sure if Hawkin was that powerful with that suit, or he wondered if she was exaggerating.
He took a slow breath, centering himself.
"Surprises indeed," Sarhita murmured, studying him with new intensity.
"But back to the terraspers. The Emperor’s deal with them changed everything. They brought their cunning minds and influenced the humans here—not just with technology, but with new ways of thinking and new approaches to old problems."
She stared into the fire, her expression thoughtful. "But here’s what amazes me, what made me realize I needed to leave my old life behind: I think the Emperor is more cunning than all of them combined. He’s been ruling the Holy Empire for two hundred years, Jorghan. Two hundred years. They say he hasn’t aged even a bit, that he looks just like a forty-year-old man in his prime."
"Two hundred years?" Jorghan felt a chill run down his spine.
"That’s... even for powerful mages, that’s extraordinary."
"Extraordinary doesn’t begin to cover it," Sarhita agreed.
"The most powerful human mages might reach one hundred and fifty years, maybe slightly more with significant magical augmentation. But two hundred years without aging? That suggests something else entirely."
She turned to face him fully, firelight reflecting in those liquid gold eyes. "Don’t you see? The Emperor didn’t just accept the terraspers’ knowledge. He took it, integrated it, and made it his own, and now he’s playing a game on a timescale none of the terraspers can match. They might live seventy, eighty, or maybe one hundred years if they’re lucky. He’s been alive since before most of them were born, and he’ll be alive long after they’re dust."
"He’s out-thinking them across generations," Jorghan said slowly, beginning to understand the implications.
"Exactly!" Sarhita’s enthusiasm was infectious.
"Whatever deal he made, whatever knowledge he gained, he’s using it to position the Holy Empire as the dominant force not just for now, but for centuries to come. And the changes rippling out from that central point—they’re reshaping everything."
She gestured expansively. "The Duchies are scrambling to adopt the new technologies. The trade guilds are being revolutionized. Ancient magical traditions are being questioned, tested against new methodologies. Even isolated clans like the Nuwe’rak and Nue’roka are feeling the pressure to adapt or be left behind."
"And you wanted to be part of that change," Jorghan said, understanding dawning.
"Not a spectator, not a pawn in someone else’s game, but an active participant."
"Yes," she breathed, relief evident that he understood.
"El’ran and the other patriarchs, they’re trying to hold onto the old ways, to preserve power structures that have existed for millennia. But the world is changing, Jorghan. It’s already changed. And I refuse to be married off and trapped in amber while history happens around me."
They sat in silence for a moment, the fire crackling between them.
Jorghan processed everything she’d told him, fitting it into the broader picture of the world he’d been slowly piecing together since his reincarnation.
The fragments of his previous life—wherever and whatever that had been—sometimes gave him perspectives that seemed out of place in this world. The concept of technological advancement, of cross-dimensional contact, felt it was all connected somehow.
And it let him think about what the goddess said. To be careful about the worlds around them and to be careful of the lords of those worlds. He wanted to talk to her, but she said she would only meet him after he reached the ten stars.
"What about you?" Sarhita asked, drawing him from his internal focus. "You saved me without hesitation, fought your way through trained guards, and now you’re traveling with a woman you just met toward the Garkho Plains. What’s your story, Jorghan? What are you running from, or running toward?"
It was a fair question, and one he’d been expecting.
The problem was deciding how much truth to offer. Sigora always counseled carefully measured honesty—enough truth to build trust, enough mystery to maintain necessary boundaries.
"I’m just lost, finding my way back to the city of Bleusmoore," he said. She doesn’t need to know everything about him.
"The Bleusmoore city?" Sarhita repeated, testing the name. "I’ve never heard of it. Were you from the Empire?"
"The borderlands," Jorghan said, which was technically true. "Small city, isolated, a home to all types of people."
"We’re both finding our way back home then," Sarhita said softly.
"Both trying to find our place in a changing world. Maybe that’s enough common ground to build on."
"Maybe," Jorghan agreed.
"Though I should warn you—traveling with me isn’t always safe. I seem to attract trouble."
She laughed, a bright sound in the gathering darkness.
"I just escaped a forced marriage and fled from one of the most powerful elf clans on the continent. I think I can handle trouble."
They talked long into the night, sharing stories carefully edited for safety but genuine in emotion. Sarhita told him about growing up in the Nuwe’rak clan, about the rigid hierarchies and ancient traditions, and about the beauty and frustration of a culture that valued continuity over change. Jorghan shared fragments of his journey since he left the city, creating a fake tale of adventuring out in the world.
He didn’t mention the system. He didn’t mention his true power level.
But he let her see his determination, his resilience, and his genuine curiosity about the world. And she seemed to appreciate it.
As the fire burned down to embers and Sarhita’s eyes grew heavy, Jorghan took first watch.
She curled up in her cloak near the dying fire, trusting him with her safety in a way that felt both touching and heavy with responsibility.
He sat with his back against a tree, monitoring their surroundings through both mundane senses and the enhanced awareness his bloodline provided.
[Host Status: Optimal]
[Mana Reserves: 576%]
[Surrounding Area: No immediate threats detected]
[Recommendation: Rest when opportunity permits]
He smiled slightly at the system’s practical concern.
Tomorrow they would reach the Garkho Plains, and from there, who knew what path they would take?
Sarhita wanted to see the changing world, to experience the impact of the terraspers firsthand. And Jorghan... Jorghan needed to keep moving, keep growing, and keep unlocking the potential of his ancestral bloodline.
The wind stirred the trees overhead, carrying whispers of change from the south, where the Holy Empire spread its influence across the world.
-
The journey to the Nuwe’rak settlement took three days across terrain that shifted from verdant borderlands to increasingly arid expanses.
Sarhita insisted that he come along with her, as she wanted to thank him properly for saving her, and Jorghan couldn’t refuse her, as she asked him sincerely.
As Sigora wasn’t present in their home, he just decided to go with her and leave after reaching the clan’s home.
Jorghan watched the landscape transform with the fascination of someone who’d spent most of his life in temperate forests and mountain valleys.
The Brownhill Dunes stretched endlessly before them, vast seas of amber sand interrupted by wind-carved rock formations that rose like ancient sentinels.
It was the home to the Red elves; both clans have been staying in these lands for generations.
"The Jaruna River runs through the heart of the dunes," Sarhita explained as they crested yet another ridge.
"Most of the year, it’s just a trickle—but during the monsoon season, it swells to become one of the widest rivers on the continent. My people have lived on its banks for over four thousand years."
Her pride was evident, and Jorghan found himself studying her profile as she spoke.
In the harsh desert light, her pale red skin seemed to glow from within, and those liquid gold eyes reflected the sun like molten metal.
She moved through the sand with controlled ease, her seven-foot frame carrying her across the dunes with a loping grace.
[Host Status: Stable]
[Environmental Analysis: Extreme heat, low humidity]
[Mana Reserves: 570% - Desert environment less conducive to passive absorption]
[Hydration Warning: Recommend increased water intake]
He took a long drink from his waterskin, grateful for the system’s practical monitoring. The desert heat was oppressive, drawing moisture from his body at an alarming rate.
Sarhita seemed unbothered, adapting to this environment in ways he could only envy.
"There," she said suddenly, pointing ahead.
"The settlement."
At first, Jorghan saw nothing but more dunes and rock formations.
Then his eyes adjusted, picking out the subtle signs of habitation—structures built into and around massive stone outcroppings, their colors so perfectly matched to the surrounding rock that they seemed to grow organically from the desert itself. And running through it all, a ribbon of startling blue-green: the Jaruna River.
As they descended toward the settlement, the full scope of it revealed itself.
This was no mere oasis—it was a carefully cultivated paradise carved from hostile terrain. The rocky banks of the Jaruna were terraced and planted with lush vegetation that formed a stark contrast to the surrounding wasteland. Trees Jorghan couldn’t name provided shade over winding pathways. Flowering vines cascaded from carved stone dwellings. The sound of running water created a constant, soothing backdrop.