Netori: Reborn as the Human Aphrodisiac

"The Mantis preys on the cicada unaware of the oriole behind," is such a strange yet relatable saying. And in the spirit of that saying, Ulric didn't realize that as he followed the Weaver's directives to the letter, turning the Flame Dancers' leadership into a cabal of abominations, a pair of sanguine eyes observed him from the shadows, sneering at his moves.

"Hopeless savages. Civilization is a privilege wasted on primitive mongrels." A voice pealed from the shadows, silenced by the darkness of the night.

"And yet, it is the barbaric lust of these fools and savages…that will pave the way for your eternal rule. I love them so dearly," another voice, this time hoarse and nauseating on the edges followed, their obscene laugh rumbling in the night as the GRO serum worked its magic, turning the power-hungry into beasts in human skin.

That same night, the Chair of the Flame-Weaving Department retired. His replacement's name sending the campus into a frenzy:

The Queen-Regent herself…was taking the reins.

Meanwhile, Mithras left his darling sis—retreating into his soul world. Quite the opposite of his radiant mandala, Mithras' soul world mirrored the Purgatory—with volcanic blasts and gargantuan tongues of scarlet flames painting the land in fire and blood. Mithras ignored it all, walking into a humongous colosseum built on a foundation of dark-red stones.

Flaming red walls curved towards the heavens—distracting from the Roman architecture and atmosphere that was all over the place. Warghests and Blood Nobles filled over 20,000 seats, cheering as they watched ancient monsters and abominations fight, bleed and burn for their amusement!

Each time a creature fell, another would replace them, ripping through all that stood in their way and wrestling with death for a chance at eternal glory! And so the Colosseum's blood feast carried on to no end.

The Game Master watched it all from the highest seat, a gold and ruby throne that bore a striking resemblance to Hadubrangr's. But for some reason, that grey-skinned figure didn't sit on the throne, merely connected to it by tendrils of blood.

Dressed in a sanguine toga, with the blood crown resting on his head, the elven-shaped abomination watched the gladiators rush into mutilation with a smile on his face, using the fallen as templates to produce superior warriors.

"Mhm…Uncle Trajan. It would be a lie to say I expected you to achieve this much from within my soul. The Blood-Smelting Art deserves its fame." Mithras recognized the Abomination immediately, walking past them to sit on the throne.

"Just doing my part in the service of my emperor. Greetings, imperial nephew. I have missed your light," the Abomination said and dropped to his knees, removing the blood crown to put it at Mithras' feet.

"You didn't just say that without the 'no-homo' clause. That's a bad look, Uncle Trajan.

Don't make the bros doubt your alignment or I will have to start looking out for my ass whenever you're in the corner." Mithras didn't spare the crown a glance, more intrigued with the Abomination's perfect use of the Blood-Smelting Art because yes…only the perfected form of Blood-Smelting could create such a masterpiece.

"The plight of the insecure. Dear nephew, you're better than that."

"Nope. Matter of fact, I am a basic bitch," Mithras replied without hesitation, leaving Trajan's Abomination speechless.

Unless the two fused, Blood Nobles and their Abominations were separate entities, doomed by their cursed blood to compete for sovereignty over the soul.

The body was irrelevant. Whenever Blood Nobles and their Abominations wrestled for control, it was their Blood Noble's soul that the Abominations tried to rob. A robbery that resulted in the Abomination's victory 99 times out of 100. For as we all know by now, the more exceptional the host, the more broken the Abomination.

Trajan being a top-ten warrior of the Mortal Plane, his Abomination easily ranked in the top five, stronger than Hadubrangr before he awoke as the King of Kings. Why? Because the Weaver loved Trajan a bit too much, giving him boons that made his Abomination virtually untamable as a side effect...especially when he got the assistance of a little troublemaker.

"You're fusing with my soul. Quite bold of you, to be honest. So bold that a part of me wants to see what would result from that fusion. See how sick the human brain can get? Asking for trouble on my own." Mithras sighed a little, his left cheek resting on his fist as his eyes nailed his uncle's other self.

"You are not human," Trajan's Abomination replied in a matter-of-fact tone, a bit confused as to why Mithras would compare himself to a human.

"I'm sad to see death didn't give you a sense of humor. With that said, you still have to give me one good reason to not devour you to the last wisp of soul—no homo." Mithras' calm words pealed across the Blood Colosseum, his purple eyes becoming gold and scarlet as Solar Genesis erupted in a flaming pillar that pierced through the sanguine heavens.

Blood lightning and cracking thunder boomed in all directions, forcing the confrontations in the arena to come to a screeching halt as monsters and abominations alike looked towards their ancestral sovereign with boundless awe and reverence!

"You…have truly awoken?"

"Tragically…yes. Ability-wise at least, as for memories and knowledge, I still got ways to go. Though I now know enough to tell…who is fueling this little stunt of yours." Mithras didn't try to conceal the truth, and with a grasping motion, burned the tendrils connecting Trajan to his throne.

"It's him, isn't it? The one who helped you push your Blood-Smelting Art to perfection and carry out this…project of yours."

"Not help, make. I'm not being given a choice here. As you know, he cannot be challenged--not even by me.

After all, the more exceptional the host, the more broken the Abomination. So, it goes without saying…that of all Abominations in creation, the Sun's…is the greatest.

For who is the King of Monsters if not the Sun's Abomination? I have learned a lot from him and look forward to the result of your battle. Embrace or force him to surrender, it is only one or the other. But how could you possibly…make the King surrender?

That future battle…could very well become my raison d'être," Trajan said, the gray tone of his skin turning paler as his sclera regained its white.

Mithras wasn't fazed, aware that his Abomination was merely trying to use Trajan as a tool to take over his soul.

"He…thinks I'm weak—too weak to get the job done."

"Indeed. And so, he must do it himself. As it should be. After all, he was born to carry out the massacres you couldn't. To exterminate the filth that deep down you cannot help but resent for turning the world into a jungle of fists and hammer swings.

The Sun gave the Lord the Wrathful Gods so they wouldn't have to dirty their hands. And the Fundamental Principles…gave the Sun the Beast for that very same purpose.

Your madness, your rage, your corruption, darkness…but also your justice. All that and more…combine in your Abomination. In…the Beast!" Trajan exposed the truth—at last revealing the Beast's identity.

The moment those words left Trajan's lips, the atmospheric phenomena turning the soul world upside down quieted, replaced by a cool and soothing breeze at odds with the weight of his words.

"Problem is...he has failed about a thousand times. What makes him think it will be different this time around?

Embrace for what? Submit for what? I have no need for my Abomination. But since he came from me, I guess it is only right that he returns to me...and vanishes in my heart forever," Mithras said with a nostalgic smile, the disjointed memories of past lifetimes rising to the surface, one random piece at a time.

Not wanting to have his merry life disturbed by incomplete and heart-wrenching memories, Mithras sealed them at the back of his mind, rising from his throne, and punching through Trajan's chest.

But instead of broken bones and spurting blood, squalls of darkness flew out, carrying with them the primal energies and influence the Beast had infected Trajan with.

The Abomination's eyelids shook, confusion taking over as he stared at Mithras with disbelief written all over his face.

"As for the job. In the game of doppelgangers, people get confused. Mithras has never truly cared about the Weaver, it is the Weaver who can't stop hunting for his ass. So Mithras now retakes his place as King of Monsters, taking back his darkness to do what he does best:

Punk bitches and go on with his dreams," Mithras said with a playful smile, vanishing from the Colosseum in a twister of solar flames.

The moment Mithras vanished, a gargantuan dark-red dragon appeared in the soul world, dwarfing its inhabitants. The creature's chains cracked one by one, the horror of its powers climbing alongside the pressure of its gold and scarlet eyes.

"You abandoned supreme power to become a wanderer. So why is it that of us all...you are the merriest?

A mom. A sis. Lovers, brothers, mates, a family. Add to that a few silly quests here and there...and it really does feel like a fairy tale.

Mithras...the Lord is not the only one...to envy your freedom. But the role of a Fundamental Principle is to bear the burden of their shackles so the balance of the universe is preserved. The Weaver and you both abandoned your responsibilities, putting your happiness and self-interest above that of the universe.

And for that...you both must die."