Netori: Reborn as the Human Aphrodisiac

[Dark Resolution: Collapsing Reality]

Barely had the Fylkirs assembled that an orb of darkness appeared in the middle of Springtime City's sky, firing a deluge of dark meteors that morphed into gargantuan occult weapons as they rained on Springtime City, targeting the Blood Hunters and Warghests that rampaged in the streets.

"To think that we've just reunited. Farewell…my prince."

Hakim came with 100 Blood Hunters, each leading about 600 Warghests—adding up to an army of over 60,000 elites with power levels that ranged from Great Expansion to Blood Longevity. But once that horrifying mantra fell, there was not one on the scene who could even think of resisting.

Some accepted their fate. Others ran for their lives, but without exception, Akamana's forbidden mantra hit home, reducing Hakim's troops into a catastrophic mess of blood and gore!

Two-thirds perished instantly. The rest suffered crippling wounds, maimed beyond recognition.

The Fylkirs were speechless. Even Trajan…didn't have time to react! And as Hakim stood up, his face twisting into a murderous frenzy, a magnificent woman dressed like a pharaonic queen appeared in the sky, a veil of darkness coiling up her form and only allowing a clear look into her lilac feline eyes.

If not Akamana, who else?

"Belphegor," the Grand Priestess called, instantly causing the Knight of Ahriman to appear at her left. "Take a squad of Blood Longevity Demon Nobles to hunt down the survivors and reinforce my Isolation Field. If even a single one of these dogs escapes with his life.

I'm having your lungs for dinner." The Grand Priestess ordered, but having expected this kind of outburst, Belphegor wasn't surprised, bowing to his liege.

"Your wish is my command," the Knight of Ahriman said, vanishing subsequently.

The moment the undead demigod vanished, jet-black flames filled Akamana's sclera, her feline pupils dilating as she stepped forward.

"Grand Priestess Akamana, we meet a—" Trajan started. But before the King of Majesty could complete his greetings…

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Akamana's voice rumbled like the howl of a banshee, ripping through the Fylkirs, and rupturing their eardrums in a loud popping sound.

Cold blood spurted from their ears, trailing down as their eyes widened in disbelief.

'How…Zagan is not here. So where is this power coming from? She was nowhere near this strong when she faced Odoacer!' Trajan was at a loss, unable to comprehend why Akamana's power level had reached such crushing and overwhelming heights.

Two phenomena explained this:

First, a breakthrough. For having finally digested the gains of Mithras' secret juice, the Grand Priestess had officially joined the ranks…of Blood Authority monsters!

Second…rage and hatred!

"The disrespect has gone too far. In what world, what reality, is the turf of Akamana di Angra a place for your kind of scum to run amok? You don't cherish your lives? Fine.

I will bury you all in the catacombs of the Angra Capital, alongside the carcasses of the wastes and degenerates who've dared to cross my bottom line!" Akamana declared, and stretched her arms out, conjuring over 100 gigantic ebony gates that rippled with infinite malice.

[Divine Fantasy: Darkness Paradise]

The moment those gates appeared, Trajan's jaw dropped, his eyes narrowing in a mix of horror and confusion.

'Something is not right. According to our intel, this woman performed austerities to Bhaira at 16, making the Iron Vow of Chastity—meaning that just like Vel'Asha, she is an Iron Maiden. How can Iron Maiden also wield Ahriman's Divine Fantasy?

Aren't the Lord's devotees the only ones allowed to receive the blessings of more than one God?' Trajan couldn't wrap his head around this succession of absurd twists and turns.

But here…

"I praise the Lord for this day…and the lives that I take. That they may live on through him, in the one true paradise..." Akamana began her murder ritual, and as her words resounded, Trajan finally realized the simple truth that had been staring him in the eyes all along.

'No wait…'I praise the Lord…and break them all?' That song! Don't tell me that just because of that silly song, the Lord gave this madwoman his blessing!

Expecting nothing from the Lord yet singing his praise at will? I am an idiot! How could such a person not be…a Devotee of the Lord?' Trajan hit the nail in the coffin, at last uncovering Akamana's greatest trump card and secret.

"It's not really a secret though. Just that the most obvious answer often flies above people's heads.

'I praise the Lord…and break them all.' Except for a Devotee of the Lord, who would go into battle with such words?

But back then, it was mainly a spiteful joke. 'Lord, I will sing your praise while cracking my opponents' skulls open. You can't say I'm being disrespectful, but at the same time, it's no doubt a challenge to the principles you want us to follow. So what are you going to do about it?

Hopefully, you won't be unfair. That would be a bad look.' That's how it started. And even after Ahriman screwed us over, Mana kept singing that song, making the Lord laugh unbeknown to herself.

And so the Lord welcomed Mana…as one of his Devotees: granting her a boon that enabled her to pick three Gods, and steal three of their powers." Remembering the sight of Ahriman fleeing to avoid Akamana robbing the third power, Belphegor couldn't help but break into laughter—all while crushing a pair of Blood Longevity Hunters' skulls in his massive hands.

"The pissed-of version of my sister is the most dangerous entity of the Spiritual World. Hakim, I pray for you that you have something else up your sleeve…cause otherwise…your life ends now," Belphegor whispered, and he wasn't the only one to come to this conclusion.

Joke! Even among the First Generation of Fylkirs, how many could stay confident before the current Akamana?

'Leave. Anyone weaker than Shapur doesn't stand a chance before this woman. Not even at the Zenith of the Night. If you don't leave now, a disaster is inevitable. Hopefully, we can use Hakim as the sacrifice to figure out her true depth.

Though…I wouldn't count on—" Trajan wasn't done giving his brothers orders when Hakim lunged at Akamana, a torrential spiral of scarlet flames coiling up his form and shooting towards the heavens!

"I was going to save it for the day I taught the old timers a lesson, but you're the real deal. So, we're going all out.

Grand Priestess…the Prince of the Rashukan…approves of your blood!" Hakim said in a frenzied and psychotic tone—the torrential blood spiral becoming an ocean of blood and sanguine flames that carried the faces of each of Hakim's victims!

[Fractal Blood Field]

Hakim unleashed his Pyromantic Thesis, but unlike a standard Thesis unique to its caster, this one was well known in the Blood Aristocracy, regarded as the peak of the Blood-Smelting Art—a level that only three had reached so far:

Trajan, Sucuria…and of course Odoacer.

A fourth now joined the list, unleashing a force that half the first generation would be unable to resist!

'What is going on? Am I truly still Trajan? The King of Majesty? How is it that within the span of a quarter…I managed to speak more nonsense than in my last 100,000 years of existence combined?

Fuck!' Though he would never say such words out loud, deep down, Trajan broke character, cursing himself for having eyes…yet failing to see!