Netori: Reborn as the Human Aphrodisiac-Chapter 47: You Never Fumble The Bag!
"Well…it's a lot more than expected," facing the astronomical numbers of flaming projectiles dropping from the sky, Mithras stayed stoic, his lips curling into a wry smile. ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom
All theocracies had at least one Cursed Flame guarded by their strongest retired guru. The moment the reigning grand priest died from unnatural causes, the Cursed Flame would activate, seeking the cause of the grand priest's death to destroy it at all costs.
The Red-Cloud Theocracy had two Cursed Flames, controlled by the former grand priest and headmaster respectively.
This was common knowledge. And the reason why from the start, Cassandra never expected Mithras to kill the grand priest. Mithras didn't plan to either—finding the deed not worth the trouble it'd bring. But as the picture of his father burning on a funeral pyre appeared in his mind, Mithras moved on autopilot—reducing Elijah to ashes.
And yet…he wasn't satisfied.
The memories of his dead father took over Mithras' mind, forcing events of his childhood back to the surface.
Born the son of a successful Ener Bank Admin, Mithras' father, Fenkil refused to pick up the profession that had earned his family generations of wealth, instead pursuing his passion as a construction worker.
Yes. In an age where golems and automated Arcane Refineries produced the majority of tools and goods, the value of human manufacturers had collapsed to zero, and commoners often had to sell themselves into servitude to make ends meet, Mithras' father wanted to become a construction worker, and competed with golems to find a place in that industry.
This got him promptly disinherited by his father, to his brother's greatest delight, but he didn't care. He was a silly man with a silly name and a strange temperament—yet stayed steadfast and principled regardless of the situation.
Growing up, Mithras didn't like him. Of all fathers in the world, he got the dumb masochist who refused generational wealth to break his back outlifting freaking golems.
99% of the problems they went through could have been avoided if Fenkil hadn't fumbled the bag.
You never fumble the bag!
But at the same time, Mithras couldn't help but admire how carefree and lighthearted his father stayed in even the most disastrous of scenarios—so much so that he sometimes found himself trying to imitate him.
The realization his silly father died burning made a mess of Mithras' mind, making him space out for a moment.
"'Always take the money and take care of the money so it takes care of you.' Old man, if you'd followed half the advice you gave others, you'd still be alive and kicking," Mithras whispered in a bitter tone, and activated the Reduction Secret.
It wasn't enough. It couldn't end like this. As his chest tightened and a consuming feeling of emptiness spread in his guts, Mithras refused to let things end this way. But what could he do? Destroy the Red Cloud Theocracy? Kill Gaiseric?
Pillage the Angra?
All three, maybe?
Mithras' thoughts trailed off, and he shrank to the atomic scale, turning towards the Flame Screen.
[Quantum Tunneling]
The moment he reached the atomic scale, Mithras activated a mantra unique to masters of the Second Secret, phasing through the Flame Screen, and reappearing in the distance.
Unaware that Mithras had sneaked out already, the Red Priests outside the screen kept firing at it, hoping to assist the Cursed Flames in executing the Grand Priest's murderer—they didn't have to bother. The barrage of flaming missiles effortlessly blasted through Mithras' barrier, revealing nothing but Elijah's ashes.
The flaming projectiles didn't stop, and even though Mithras had shrunken to the size of an atom, the projectiles shifted straight towards him, targeting Mithras with surgical precision.
[Primal Strength]
Mithras didn't delay, activating his Primal Strength, and becoming a miniature sun of divine flames.
Unlike how it looked at first, Primal Strength didn't just give Mithras a net power boost. Rather, it kept boosting his Sid level for as long as his body could bear it. Certain mantras needed a minimum Sid Level for use. But Mithras' Sid Level was only at 1,500, roughly equal to third-level Inner Accumulation and way too low to use all the mantras he'd learned from the Red God.
However, Primal Strength boosted his Sid level by 33 per second, or about 2,000 per minute—unlocking new possibilities.
But first, he had to survive this explosive firework. A flurry of fire bolts whistled past Mithras, smashing into the ground and cratering underneath. But for the most part, each projectile Mithras avoided would circle back before it hit anything, still aiming for his neck.
The pythons wanted to get in the way, but Mithras stopped them. When it came to interferences, Curses followed a simple scheme. Avoid if you can, destroy if you can't, retreat if the previous two fail.
But each of those bolts carried enough power to blast through the average Golden Palace templar's head. Though Mithras' pythons were extraordinary lads, he wasn't about to have them die en masse just to act as meat shields. So he just handled it himself, zigzagging at lightning speed while moving at the atomic scale.
One minute…two minutes...three…to a Sage, Divine Secrets were like speaking or breathing, barely costing any energy. So even after three minutes of nonstop use, Mithras was still zigzagging across the air, seeing the world from an atomic perspective.
But the moment the fourth minute passed, and Mithras' Sid Level went past 9,500, his arms turned bright red, heating up under the crushing pressure of his Primal Strength. The red spread to the whole body, and Mithras stopped mid-air, gasping for breath while myriad flame projectiles surrounded him from all sides.
'Breathe…' Balling up his fist, Mithras pulled in a deep breath. The red shrank back to his arms, and he burst to the left, shifting out of the projectiles' way, and letting them collide at the last moment.
A rumbling blast detonated, propelling the mini Human Aphrodisiac into the distance.
Meanwhile, Mithras' three Golden Palace rank pythons confronted the two retired gurus. But as those two were also the theocracy's Python Charmers, able to rely on unique mantras to suppress Red Cloud Pythons, even with the portion of Pyrogasmic Genesis they'd received from Mithras, the fight dragged on.
Mithras only needed about 15 more seconds to reach the 10,000th Sid level he needed to cast his strongest mantra. But each extra second now felt like a jump into an erupting volcano—causing searing temperatures to light up Mithras from the inside.
The fifteenth second hit at last, and without delay, Mithras deactivated both Primal Strength and the Second Secret, joining his hands in a succession of mysterious gestures.
[Divine Fantasy: Red Cloud Paradise]
Mithras threw his head back. And with warm blood flowing down his eyes, nose, and lips, Mithras moved his hands like a maestro, directing an orchestra of invisible entities.
Those entities now emerged from their hidden plane, covering the theocracy in iron-scented haze and sanguine clouds.
In that instant, what interest group they belonged to didn't matter. From elder priests to flame dancers, without exception, all conscious members of the Red Cloud Theocracy aimed something at Mithras, hoping to stop him from using that mantra—a pointless effort.
A host of gigantic red dragons appeared in the sky, beating boulder-sized war drums with their tails while underneath, 300 mesmerizing tribal girls danced along the beat.
Tongues of sanguine flames coiled up the tribal girls' sensual bodies, and Mithras reached forth with a deadpan look—sweeping the Red Cloud Theocracy's lives.
All deities possess a Divine Fantasy—a mantra that not only carries their heart and vision, but a tool they use to judge their devotees and punish non-believers.
Once Mithras snapped his fingers, in a 500-meter radius, the Red God's hardcore believers would leave their mortal bodies and enter the Red Paradise, and the rest burn into ashes. Unless they carried divine boons, no one could avoid that rule.
The Red Cloud Theocracy entered a stasis. Mithras collected his scattered pets, but as he was about to snap his fingers…
[Pyretic Hell]
Nagini and Cassandra appeared at the theocracy's doors, smashing through its defensive barriers with combined efforts.
As Mithras' familiar, Nagini had also received the Red Sacraments and didn't have to worry about the Divine Fantasy. Cassandra, however, would face it at full strength—dying without a doubt.
Mithras could no longer activate his skill. But as he considered ways to circuNovelFireent this problem…
[Divine Fantasy: Pyretic Blood Paradise]
Another Divine Fantasy took shape, overwhelming Mithras' and shattering it in a heartbeat.
The moment next, two figures appeared in the theocracy's sky. On the left, the unconscious Headmistress Achai. Mithras ignored her, focusing on the one who'd so easily dispelled his strongest mantra: a woman shrouded from head to toe in a twister of silver flames, with windblown white hair that cascaded at her back:
Elektra di Elektra, Queen of the Blood Smelting Kingdom, and true leader of the Red Cloud Theocracy had made her entrance.
