Netori: Reborn as the Human Aphrodisiac

The Pyromantic Thesis, in the Art of Flame Manipulation, the mark of a Professor. Gurus typically took 250 years to become masters of Flame Manipulation, and 2,000 to complete their thesis—meaning that Mithras wasn't just breaking records but shattering them with abnormal ease.

His Pyromantic Thesis, Million Snakes of the Burning Hell, was still at its embryonic stage, having made no noticeable progress over the last two years. But now that he had the Violet Flame, Mithras didn't need it to be complete for what he had planned.

And now sitting cross-legged in a sea of whirling flames, the Human Aphrodisiac reminisced about his favorite teacher, the mysterious Manu—letting her teachings guide his hands.

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'Focus, willpower, drive, ambition, spontaneity, and inner peace together make up the foundation of Flame Manipulation. If you're lacking in just one, no matter how talented, you will never go beyond the master level.

For if we consider that life is a flickering flame, our world and its tens of billions of life forms become a gigantic bonfire. The Pyromantic Thesis harnesses that bonfire, shaping it through the Inner Flame to alter the world and its species on a structural level.

Such a complex trick is naturally supercharged with danger. Even skilled masters with impeccable Inner Flame control can implode, explode, and really self-destruct in a variety of ways...all with just one mistake. I'm not a Flame Professor so I can't help you with that one. But even without my help, I know that you will master it,' Manu explained while tutoring her mischievous student.

'How? It's always nice to see you believe in me. But I don't even know where to start here.' But Mithras wasn't satisfied, blinking at Manu with a nervous look.

'Mhm…you couldn't just take the compliment and be a cutie pie? You had to put me on blast? Fine. I only said that to pump up the ego of my favorite student. Because I like you so much I need you to believe you can achieve the impossible. Happy?'

'Oh, I know. Just wanted to hear it from your mouth,' Mithras said with bright and beady eyes, making Manu hesitate between petting him and ripping out his tongue. But then he pulled her into his arms, and she mellowed out as always.

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The memory ended here, putting a smile on Mithras' lips. His heart soured the moment next. For to this day, he still couldn't understand why Manu left without a word. And when Mithras couldn't stomach something, he buried it in the darkest corners of his soul, forgetting it till it came back to stab him in the guts.

Meanwhile, Vel'Asha's Pyromantic Thesis: Astral Void Invocation, worked its magic.

The void being an Anarchic Territory, Sid Manipulation and Divine Secrets didn't function well here. Meaning that entering an Anarchic Territory with the mortal body, even for a Guru, was an excellent way to catch a nasty Sid Disease or grotesque mutations.

But as a Naifem, Vel'Asha was above those side effects. Mithras was just as good, if not better from a pure immunity standpoint. So, the Queen Mother didn't have to be worried about him—giving him room to explore his Thesis while bombarding Akamana with feline beasts.

The Grand Priestess couldn't give Mithras time to pull off something nasty. But in a world where fusing with Sid was no different from self-sabotage, her advantages became meaningless.

Forced out of hiding, the real Akamana returned, hovering thousands of meters above the allied pair, and calling off her clones. The Queen Mother's flaming cougars shone with divine splendor, golden tongues of fire and miniature stars surrounding them as they charged the Grand Priestess.

Akamana's face twisted into a frown. In their last fight, Vel'Asha didn't use the Astral Void Invocation, meaning that back then…she could have defeated her if she wanted to. But she didn't, settling for a draw. Why? It didn't matter now.

Because as she faced these legions of astral beasts that could individually maul any Golden Palace templar, the Grand Priestess realized the situation had spiraled out of control.

If that alliance didn't end, defeat was her destiny.

But defeat means leaving your fate to hands eager to break your skull. So she couldn't lose. Not here, not ever again.

Sadly, for the Grand Priestess, she wasn't a Flame Professor. As unbelievable as it might sound, Akamana…couldn't reach that level. So how could she break through their alliance?

How about just breaking them up? Here, psychotic rays flashed in the Grand Priestess' eyes, making Vel'Asha realize that centuries of dominance hadn't reduced Akamana's fear of failure.

The Grand Priestess stretched her hands out, jet-black flames filling her eyes and dilating her pupils.

[Mournful Cry of the Deceased]

[Silent Scream of the Forgotten]

[Prismatic Envoys of Corruption]

In the blink of an eye, Akamana's hands flickered in over 300 hand signs. Runic circles and sigils of darkness forming and orbiting her form as she challenged local instability to cast three mantras simultaneously.

The moment next, hundreds of thousands of undead crawled out of the palace's walls—joining their summoner in the interstellar void. Some were made of flesh and blood, others mere skeletons, but all wore the same ebony armor, lining up like infernal knights straight out of the abysses.

They were not alone, for behind each undead, a smiling ghost writhed in agony, the slasher smile on their spectral lips growing larger by the second.

"All unite in one!" Akamana tightened her fist. Undead and ghosts became one, and in one singular charge, threw themselves at one another—becoming a vortex of blight and darkness.

From that storm of corruption, a herculean figure emerged, dressed from head to toe in gold and scarlet heavy armor. With a spiked helmet that only revealed his eyes—blood-red orbs bereft of life—and a gigantic war hammer that rested on his shoulders.

A sanguine crown topped the helmet, hinting at its royal status. The undead monarch's appearance made Mithras' blood boil with excitement—the Great Smelting Gene reacting to the creature's lineage. But the Human Aphrodisiac ignored these changes, shutting off distraction to manipulate the clouds of burning snakes rotating his form.

"His entire life he fought against barbarians, only to be remembered as the evilest of savages. By organizing a coup to steal the throne from his father, and murdering him in cold blood, he broke the first law of the Blood Aristocracy: obedience to the elders.

Ricimer the Sinner, last ruler of the Great Blood Empire," Vel'Asha recognized the historical figure—smiling at Akamana's guts.

At their level, undead creation wasn't complicated. Even bringing someone who had not died long ago back to life didn't require much effort—granted that their souls had not left the Spiritual World or entered reincarnation. But to create an undead warrior from a historical figure's remains? One who had died over 10,000 years ago?

Now that was a masterclass only Sage Kings and deities could usually pull off.

It wasn't perfect, Akamana didn't have Ricimer's soul, just a copy crafted by fusing the Envoys of Corruption, creatures that reflected all the sins and transgressions a person ever committed. But that was more than enough to summon 100% of Ricimer's physical attributes and Sid Level.

He just wouldn't have access to his Divine Secrets.

The irresistible pressure of Blood Authority erupted from the undead emperor, blasting through Vel'Asha's flaming cougars as undead and master launched at the allies. Akamana aiming for Mithras, and the Undead Blood Emperor for Vel'Asha!

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