Netori: Reborn as the Human Aphrodisiac

Chapter 85: Greatness Presumes Sacrifice!

In each generation, the Queen of Monsters was meant to marry the Holy Emperor and rule the monster race alongside him. Meaning that if the Weaver had its way, Elektra was destined to marry the Holy Emperor, Galahad di Balmaria. A man Mithras should by right refer to as…imperial uncle!

This prophecy was the main reason the Holy Balmaria currently didn't have an empress. Despite being over 10,000 years old, with several consorts and children, Galahad had been waiting for the Queen of Monsters' arrival. Waiting for thousands of years, in fact. But now, that queen was getting introduced to the pleasures of flesh clapping flesh by his own nephew, a tragic turn of events.

But while Mithras unknowingly cucked his almighty uncle, the world didn't stop running. With Mithras' most skilled schemers and administrators—Honoria and Cassandra—jointly carrying out his orders.

The rabbit girl now lay in the ancestral hall of House Tantares, sitting on the ducal throne under the eyes of 12 fuming elders.

Her steady diet of Mithras juice had obvious effects, making Honoria go from a stunning beauty to a divine marvel.

However, faced with the rabbit girl's malicious methods, these elders could neither appreciate the luster of her blue hair nor the allure of her sapphire eyes. Her curves stood out regardless, provoking the weak-willed.

"Our forefathers didn't deceive us. Monsters truly are the bane of this world! Honoria…I should have killed your mutant of a mother in the cradle, so the world didn't get fucked by your wicked hands!" A wrinkled old man snarled, clenching his fists so tight that his arms trembled nonstop.

Honoria didn't care. Better, her lips curled up at the insult, eyes flashing with amusement.

"Grandfather, you're breaking my heart. At the end of the day, I am your only daughter's child. How could you say that?

Then again, when you realized that she'd awoken a mutation, you threw her out—leaving her to fend for herself in a world ruled by royal thugs. The result? She married a kind, rich but weak idiot—plotted against and bullied all her life by her weak husband's consorts despite being the main wife.

You didn't kill her, but you refused to give her a fair chance or help her survive. So, what's the difference?" Honoria asked in a calm yet chilling tone. As she spoke her pulse quickened, rage and hatred building inside her chest.

But in that instant, Mithras' face appeared in Honoria's mind, silencing her rage and making her cheeks flush as she remembered words he'd spoken before giving her the Tantares job.

'Honoria, truth be told, you're like a darker and not-as-funny version of Akamana. Since I've decided to keep you by my side, I will love you regardless. But please don't be a copycat—especially not the mirror of another woman's flaws.

I believe in your potential and hope in the years to come, you will mature into the unique you—upgrading yourself from noble hussy to a lady worth a thousand gold.' The memory ended here, and Honoria's thought trailed off, her eyes shifting between warmth and spite.

"Men are unreliable crooks more preoccupied with their prestige than their women's happiness. Mithras is the only exception, so only Mithras deserves my heart. For the rest of you, I only have malice.

Grandfather, you should be grateful that my lord asked me to keep the bloodshed to a minimum, or there would be no Tantares man left in this world.

Still, that doesn't mean I can't break your bones, disintegrate your flesh, or grind you into powdered debris. So please be careful with what you say next…for it might be the last word to cross your lips," Honoria said as if it was the most natural thing ever. And aware of how far his granddaughter could go to reach her goals, the old noble lowered his head—accepting the reality…of his house's fall.

The Tantares name would live on, but their wealth and influence…would never recover!

'Just you wait for Lady Menaka's return. Honoria, you'll pay for this!' The old noble kept that thought to himself, kneeling alongside the surviving Tantares elders.

But unbeknown to Honoria, Cassandra observed her from the shadows—tasked by Mithras to intervene if Honoria lost control and went overboard. Now convinced that this wouldn't be an issue, Cassandra turned heels, leaving for the final task.

As all this played out, above the ruins of a southern megalopolis, two figures traded blows, rocking the sky, and splitting the earth with each collision.

One, a purple-eyed man dressed in gold and red heavy armor. The other, a blue-eyed dragoness with elongated horns that sparkled with cracking lightning and spinning flames.

Odoacer vs. Menaka.

But while on the surface, the two had reached a stalemate, so far, Odoacer only relied on Sid Manipulation, Divine Secrets, and physical strength. But those familiar with the Blood Aristocracy know that Blood Nobles, even the Fylkirs, suck at Sid Manipulation and Divine Secrets.

Even Odoacer, the greatest of them all, only mastered three Divine Secrets after 100,000 years. The other Fylkirs peaked at two. So, if Odoacer could already match Menaka with his weaknesses…

*BANG*

The sky turned red, scarlet flames and lightning bolts raining from the heavens and crashing into the dragoness in an explosion of sanguine sparks!

Menaka flew down, cratering in the ruins below, but managing to cushion the fall with her Inner Shield. Still, blood dripped from her lips, and she stood on one knee, struggling to channel her powers.

"Monster…of all the monsters to walk this earth, Hadubrangr, you are no doubt the worst," Menaka said with a bitter smile. Her left hand tightening around an onyx stone as she considered whether to reveal her trump card here.

The Fylkir didn't care, dropping from the sky and landing without a sound.

"Greatness presumes sacrifice.

Menaka, as the daughter of the Dragon King and the sister of the Holy Emperor, you should know that from time immemorial, the world has been ruled by monsters. And so, to take over the world, we humans had no other choice…but to become the greatest monsters of all.

I am the incarnation of that principle: the finest achievement of humanity.

Doomed to be perfect, immortal, and invincible. Victory is my birthright and defeat a logical fallacy. In my Fylkir body, no one can stop me—not even you," the Fylkir's voice rumbled, the power of his cursed blood slowing down the dragoness' response.

But as Menaka resolved to throw caution to the wind, a dark-purple vortex formed at her right, and from it, a blood-soaked woman dressed like a pharaonic queen emerged, her ink-colored hair stretching and undulating as if animated with a will of their own.

Dark-purple flames coiled up her form, hiding her irresistible figure behind a veil of darkness, and only allowing a glance into her feline eyes.

If not Akamana, who else?

"Invincible, huh? I take that as a challenge," the Grand Priestess said in a sweet and misleading tone that'd make the average man mistake the great demoness for a playful imp.

Already expecting Akamana's arrival, Menaka didn't look surprised. Odoacer's face, however, twisted into a grimace.

"Grand Priestess, I seem to remember that we have an agreement. Are you really so stupid as to risk the benefits of a lifetime, the chance at godhood, for a friend?" The Fylkir asked, genuinely confused by Akamana's actions.

"This right here is proof you don't know squat about how I roll. Cause if our agreement doesn't include that I can't fuck you up, then Odobrangr, I will fuck you up…as often as I feel like it. And right now...I want to break your skull...FOR HAVING THE NERVE TO FILL MY SISTER'S EYES WITH TEARS!" Akamana clapped back, flexing into a battle stance.

Though she'd expected Akamana's arrival, the words still took Menaka by surprise, and she lowered her head, trying her best to keep her emotions in check...and not burst into tears.

"The weak men of this era have made you hormonal rebels forget your place. The Hadu bloodline is unmatched…and will not be defeated…by mere women." Odoacer sneered and raised his hands, summoning his legendary artifact: the Altar of the Blood Gods.

The sanguine altar rose at the Fylkir's back, rippling with infinite bloodlust.

Words became useless past this point. And the two overlords of the Purple Dawn went unhinged, letting loose their true abilities.

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Meanwhile, Mithras was having fun—lots, lots of it.