Netori: Reborn as the Human Aphrodisiac

Chapter 138: Kill The Sun!

Instead of clubs and fraternities, the Jade-Faced Academy operated on a system of Cults and Societies—factions that gathered like-minded students who worked hand-in-hand towards a common goal.

But while Societies merely assembled students in pursuit of deeper knowledge and opportunities regarding a specific topic, cults gathered students devoted to the worship of other academy members—typically five-star students, but sometimes even professors.

Cults didn't always have any connection to the one they worshiped, sometimes carrying out actions that went against their idols' wishes. Because yes, those academy superstars whose light shone so bright they commanded the worship of students and peers received the title of Idol—whether they wanted to or not.

A fine example is the Elektra-Celestia duo, who became the Idols of the Flame Dancers—a creepy congregation of over 1,000 male students all devoted to them—without ever exchanging a word with its members. Those overzealous bootlickers were rarely up to any good, their secret meeting halls all carrying statuettes of the Red God on top of their idols' portraits.

And so, while Ishtar prepared for the entrance examination to the Therapeutic Society, the core members of the Flame Dancers assembled in an underground academy location, all dressed in red hooded robes as they discussed their latest scheme.

"Kill…the Queen Regent? Brother, are you mad? With what? For what?!" A scrawny cultist reiterated his shock, unable to believe the words spoken by his leader. Said leader sat on an obscenely large iron throne, their hood draping over an amber-colored mask.

[Carcinogenic Degeneration]

The Flame Dancing Hierarch didn't answer with words, casually aiming his right index at his most trusted follower. A blast of corrupt energies took off, infecting the unprepared and defenseless cultist so fast that by the time he'd registered his leader's move, his life subscription had ended.

All the insecurities and sources of self-loathing buried in the cultist's heart turned into blemishes and deformities, twisting his average appearance into an unrecognizable and downright monstrous mess.

"AAAAAAAAAAAARGH!" A projection of the man's new appearance formed before his very eyes, and he screamed his lungs out, bursting into blood and gore as he failed to accept his reflection in the mirror.

The scent of death pervaded the scene—all core members of the Flame Dancers shivering from top to bottom at the horrifying sight offered by their newly ascended Hierarch.

"He died…because he refused to consider the possibility of taking down our most worrying foe—because yes, while our goal is to take down The Sun, the most problematic figure in the Purple Dawn is not Mithras…but indeed the Queen Regent.

Vel'Asha is the ruler of one of the Seven Great Demon clans, and the golden girl of the Heavenly Demon. In terms of reach and resources, she's no doubt the most dangerous person in the Spiritual World—able to rely on resources and Higher Plane powerhouses that will put their lives on the line to fulfill any task she gives them.

We're all fortunate the Queen-Regent has no interest in world domination…or our world's landscape would look a lot different.

Enjoy stories on m_v lem|p-yr

But that doesn't mean we can just stay here and wait for her to become a problem…because trust me, my brothers, she will.

So long as the Astalon-Yaksha alliance stands, Vel'Asha is number one on our list of Kill at All Cost! For if we try to take down the Sun before first removing that thorn, she will demolish us in a pincer attack," the Flame Dancing Hierarch said, raising a chalice of warm blood to his lips and drinking with a smile.

A dreary silence followed. The core members and vice-hierarchs all pondering on their leader's words. To those 12, Celestia and Elektra were just banners to rally the horndogs on campus and brainwash them with power, benefit, dogma, and whatever a man needed to become an idiot.

They all simped for the Jade-Faced Queens, but not one of these 12 would put Celestia or Elektra's interests before their own. The love wasn't that deep. So, despite Vel'Asha's well-known position as Elektra's teacher, they didn't mind slaughtering her.

The problem is how.

But did the new Hierarch summon the elite of his cult to present them with an unrealistic task? Of course not. The answer to that problem appeared the moment next, 12 syringes filled with a dark-red liquid. The Flame Dancers' eyes narrowed at the liquid. But once the energies inside leaked a little, without exception, all broke into a cold sweat.

"To become a man whose name makes millions lower their heads and acknowledge their inferiority, you must be bold! Boldness is the foundation of success! Heart and alignment do not matter. A man must chase his ambitions with frenetic determination, never backing down no matter the cost!

And my ambition…is to kill The Sun. The Weaver shares that ambition, and gave me the tools to come up with the solution to our many problems:

This shot, the GRO Serum," the Flame Dancing Hierarch, said, removing his amber mask, and closing his eyes as he picked a syringe at random.

Ulric di Astalon's face appeared to the Flame Dancers' high level, the reveal of their leader's identity taking half by surprise. After all, the Flame Dancers used a system of numbers—referring to one another by numbers instead of names. The lower the number, the higher the position in the cult, with -1 being the highest rank: the Hierarch's rank!

Only the Hierarch could remove a Flame Dancer's mask, meaning that except for Ulric's closest followers, only the previous Hierarch knew his identity—and the previous hierarch was dead, killed by Mithras a while ago:

Grand Priest Elijah of the Red Cloud Theocracy!

Never did Mithras expect that while he fished for clues and dealt the Red Cloud Theocracy a devastating blow, he'd sparked the hostilities with the mysterious Flame Dancers. Not that it mattered. Even without the murder of his teacher, Ulric had all the reasons in the world to want Mithras' head on a pike.

His late father, the previous ruler of Astalon…was the only reason he needed!

To this day, the highborn bastard saw his father's ending as Mithras' fault—refusing to blame the true culprit.

Why? Because deep down he knew…that even if he found and killed the Zealot who mutilated his old man to death, that alone…would never satisfy him. Why? Because of the years of humiliation that Mithras and Cassandra put his father through!

Each night, the late duke would sit alone in his study, cursing Mithras and Cassandra's names while drinking himself to sleep. Over time, alcohol wasn't enough. So the duke began experimenting with drugs, the knowledge that his riveting wife was getting pounded daily by a boy young enough to be his descendant and growing stronger from it filling him with rage, hopelessness, regret and disgust!

But what could he do? Except for cursing himself for not hiding his Maid-Fucking on the Wedding Day more carefully, what could he do?

Ulric remembered each night as if it was yesterday. The Zealots only dealt the final blow. His father died a long time ago. And it was Mithras and Cassandra who killed him. So even if it was the last thing he did in this world…and regardless of the cost, he'd bring them both to hell!

With a surge of psychotic determination, the bastard raised the syringe, aiming at his most palpable vein, and injecting himself with the GRO Serum.

Jet-black flames filled the noble bastard's sclera, his pupils dilating and turning scarlet red as his slender frame bulked up and his height increased.

Ulric's hair dropped like fleas, leaving a lustrous bald scalp behind as his teeth became jagged fangs, his nails elongated claws, and his skin took on a dark-green hue that reminded of the unusual blue of the Rashukan!

"How could the world not bend to the will of its creator? Praise the Weaver! Honor his name, accept his pain, embrace his gifts and eternal glory is yours!" Ulric exclaimed, the pressure of his aura climbing so fast that it soon eclipsed the likes of the average Grand Priest.

Yet, the knowledgeable could tell Ulric wasn't a Blood Noble. Similar yes, but something darker and incomparably more sinister. Knowing where Blood Nobles originated from, that's quite the feat.

Not that the specifics mattered. With Ulric's transformation alone, the Flame Dancers had become a force that few factions in the region could ignore. And there were 11 more shots to go. Here, Ulric shifted back to his human appearance, causing his subordinates to heave sighs of relief as they feared the shot would condemn them to look like monsters.

Ulric's followers didn't hesitate, grabbing their serums, and injecting themselves with the shot!

So what if they lost their humanity and became monsters? They'd still be humans on the surface, with the powers and perks reserved for the Superior Beings that looked down on them simply due to the privileges of their births. The serum kicked in immediately, transforming Ulric's 11 subordinates…into brand-new Abominations!

Alas! Only Ulric got to keep his individuality. The rest became puppets, all bound to Ulric's will and condemned to live as blood-sucking fiends or harmless humans…according to their owner's whims.

The Sun-Eaters...had assembled.