Netori: Reborn as the Human Aphrodisiac

In the Bloodborn Palace, Odoacer sat on his ruby throne, tears dropping from his eyes as he trembled nonstop.

"All...dead? My brothers...have fallen?

My brothers...decimated by my son? No...no! It has to be a mistake! Trajan! Shapur! Arminius, Hadrian, Gurdenhozer!

My brothers—Trajan! Aaaaaargh!" In a fit of murderous frenzy, Odoacer lunged out of his palace, soaring into the sky in a flash of sanguine rays!

"DRAKNEIL!" The Fylkir called, summoning his ancient mount. A colossal gray-skinned gargoyle with gigantic steel wings dropped from the heavens, putting Odoacer on its back...before turning into a meteor of sanguine flames!

The target? Springtime City!

---

100,000 years. For over 100,000 years, the Five Kings had been biding their time, waiting for the day Odoacer would return to lead the restoration of the Empire.

But in the span of a minute, they'd all fallen—slaughtered by their brother and liege's son. For indeed, though Hakim exploited the opportunity to decimate Shapur, it was Mithras who singlehandedly annihilated the Five Kings, starting with Trajan!

Akamana couldn't believe her eyes. How long ago was it that Mithras had to put his life on the line, relying on tricks, luck, alliances, and ruinous abilities to contend with the Angra Theocracy?

That same Mithras had now eradicated the Fylkirs? Trajan included? How did this happen? Though she witnessed the slaughter from start to finish, Akamana still struggled to accept...that this was Mithras' work.

Except for the like of Odoacer, Galahad and Agravain, who could face the current Mithras?

Even Cassandra, Honoria and Nagini stared slackjawed. Only Ishtar stayed composed, not surprised in the slightest.

And this was only the begining. In time the world would learn, understand and embrace...the fact that no man—mortal, immortal or divine—none could measure up to her brother's glory.

The Sun is matchless after all. And its light...shall ultimately...expunge all the filth!

[Ding! Ding! Ding!]

[The Five Kings have fallen! The Blood Princes...now awaken from stasis!]

[Hakim ascends to the first generation and replaces Shapur as King of the Rashukan!]

[Marcus replaces Trajan as King of the Nerva!]

[Lucius replaces Hadrian as King of the Antinos!]

[Caligula replaces Gurdenhozer as King of the Balarak!]

[Julia and Drusilla replace Arminius as Queens of the Mansema]

[Warning: Aurelian di Hadubrangr arises! Be careful of Aurelian!]

The system's voice echoed in Mithras' head. But for now, he ignored it, his eyes locking on Hakim, who knelt at Shapur's ashes with mixed feelings.

Why did the huntmaster decimate his grandfather? For power or vengeance? Even Hakim couldn't tell, and there was no need to overthink it.

Divine-class Blood Flames erupted from Hakim's flesh, and he stood up, facing Mithras with a smirk.

"Gangsta. A man—a real baller—gotta have this much style and swagger. You're more my type of leader than your old man, balling like a motherfucker.

Approved! The huntmaster approves of your blood!" Hakim said, and as his powers stabilized, his Sid Level, Templar rank and Blood Potency all shot up—outright digesting Shapur's soul!

Why could Hakim complete the digestion instantly? Age. Mithras' original Blood Potency was 18. That he managed to bring it to 12,000 by decimating four first-gens is already horrifying. But the rest would need time to harmonize with his blood.

Hakim on the other hand had 100,000 years of Blood Potency to begin with—enabling him to get all 33% of Shapur's powers on the spot. Add to that his promotion to the First Generation, and the current Hakim...was no weaker than Trajan at his peak.

Still, he didn't dare to be complacent. For in the months and years to come, Mithras wouldn't even need to drink a single extra blood drop to obtain over 400,000 years of Blood Potency.

When that time came, no one would be his match! Not even Agravain! And so, for Mithras' enemies...the time to strike was now!

But was he even vulnerable now? The scene of Mithras ripping through the first generation replayed in Hakim's mind, forcing him to re-evaluate his options.

"Thanks, I guess? But I must say the feeling is not mutual. Matter of fact, you let down my hopes and expectations. For someone nicknamed the Huntmaster, you're one hell of a victim.

Boring," Mithras replied, giving Hakim a sidelong look before shaking his head and turning his back to the huntmaster.

The words took Hakim by surprise, his cheeks twitching as his eyes narrowed at Mithras' back.

"I've been called many things over the years, but 'boring' and 'victim' are new to my ears. Care to elaborate?" Hakim stepped forward, closing in on Mithras as the youth walked away, the two maintaining a leisurely pace.

"Isn't it obvious? You're even worse than Belphegor. Your heart so full of pain and suffering that each breath you take...is a waste of time.

I have never seen a more broken man—working so hard to act a fool and lash out at the world. So fucking miserable. The name 'Hakim' is one of rulers and kings. Wholly wasted on your bitch ass," Mithras laid his thoughts bare, his words ripping through Hakim's chest, and stopping him dead in his tracks.

Petrified, Hakim shook from head to toe, his lips stretching into a weird grimace as Mithras' words replayed in his mind.

Why did the words hit so hard? And it felt so familiar, too. Why? Hakim couldn't tell, and as his brain refused to process Mithras' words, the huntmaster resumed his steps, following the one true prince.

"Sad. And here I was looking forward to becoming your number one follower. But if that's what you think of me, I guess it won't work out," Hakim sighed, shocking the audience with a most outlandish statement.

"Is that so? And why would a king want to follow a prince?" Mithras didn't buy it.

"To one day serve an emperor: the Emperor—greatest of the great.

The same way the old blood formed around Odoacer, the young blood should assemble under your leadership, kickstarting the revolution of the second generation." Hakim pleaded his case, but as the two fell out of Akamana's sight...

"It does have a nice ring to it," Mithras said, in that same breath blitzing Hakim with a murderous hammer swing.

The huntmaster's body turned sluggish, but with a burst of sanguine flames, he flew out of the way, avoiding the lethal swing.

A chunk of Hakim's right temple burst anyway, spurting jets of blood!

Hakim wasn't angry. On the contrary, as he looked at Mithras, genuine appreciation flashed in his eyes.

"Good call. I was just looking for an opportunity to decimate you.

The second generation doesn't have a single man or woman willing to take orders. We all aspire to lead our revolution and impose our vision on this world of madness!

And unlike our progenitors, we the survivors of the Blood Calamity have all tamed or embraced our Abominations—predestining us...to transcending The Primogens!

A 'why should we follow them when we're doomed to surpass them?' type of logic." Here, Hakim paused, stroking his chin as he looked sideways.

"Though now I'm curious, since you've decimated your pop's bros and all, will he still want to share the world with you...or just murk your ass and replace you with Aurelian?

Bad choices anyway. Aurelian is bad. Real, real bad. But Mithras might still be worse.

Poor Odoacer, never got an heir proper. Not now or ever. The Hadu bloodline is a goner, and I'm all for it." Hakim burst into laughter, turning heels as his cackling voice resounded.

"We will meet again, Prince of the Hadu. And on that day you might very well become the finest trophy...on my Wall of Embalmed Corpses," Hakim pledged, scattering into dust the moment next.

A second later, Hakim reformed, his back facing Mithras' hammer.

"Who said you could leave?" Mithras asked, sanguine mist blowing out of his pores as his hammer crashed into Hakim's side—sending him barelling through five buildings.

"Springtime City is the crown jewel of my bro's heritage. My turf and responsibility. You really thought you could cause a ruckus here and walk away with your head on your shoulders? Mhm, Uncle Ruckus?

Since you're going to act a fool, I'm treating you like one. So from now on, your name is Uncle Ruckus, or Tom—your pick." Mithras appeared above a comatose Hakim, stomping him in the nuts!

A crater formed underneath, sinking the ground as Hakim reeled in shock.

"All flash and fancy gear. Age gap of a thousand year, but he still gotta lay down, face down, ass up, and take it like a bitch.

Shame, real shame. And to be brutally honest, you have caused no harm...and accomplished nothing," Mithras said, aiming his right index at the sky as his Majesty unfurled!

"Return to life!" Mithras ordered, causing millions of blood particles to drop from the sky, and mesh with the remains of the Rashukans' victims...to return them all to life!