Netori: Reborn as the Human Aphrodisiac

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!" The divine enforcer unleashed the Weaver's punishment, and Belphegor's screams boomed out—the electric arcs of destiny thunder ripping his veins asunder.

Crafted by the Weaver himself to torture even the Wrathful Gods, Destiny Bolts ranked among the most dreadful tools in creation, the mere mention of them sending shivers down the spines of Gods and Sage Kings alike. Those bolts now unloaded on Belphegor, bringing the undead knight to the brink of mental collapse.

So horrifying were Belphegor's screams that the Ishtars and Naginis of the world winced and flinched--shutting down their senses out of fear that Belphegor's screams would become recurrent nightmares.

But when even Belphegor's enemies could feel his agony, the divine enforcer showed no mercy, dropping the second wave, and turning half the undead knight into a charred mess. Belphegor's screams became muffled tremors, the knight growing silent as the specter of death faced him for the second time.

In that instant, there wasn't one on the scene who could imagine Belphegor surviving the third wave—not even Elektra, who'd returned to Mithras' side, stabilizing his disastrous condition. The knight himself accepted his fate, only hoping that moving forward, his sister wouldn't feel too lonely.

"In a world of finite resources, immortality is an aberration. An impediment to balance and a barrier to progress.

Only entities such as the TriuNovelFireirate and the Wrathful Gods, creatures bound by transcendent principles, can enjoy immortality without shattering the natural order. As for the rest…death is your destiny!

No matter how long your life span might be in theory, death is your destiny—a fact of life that you just have to deal with! So stop trying to defy the fates set up for you by the Weaver and accept death in peace!" Coming straight from the higher planes, the divine enforcer's voice boomed out, blasting the eardrums of all on the scene.

But as the salvo of gray lightning was about to end Belphegor's undeath, a tall and slender figure appeared before him, her right hand raised at the sky.

An apocalyptic blast unfurled, dislodging towers and monuments as a dome of darkness canceled the divine enforcer's discharge.

"Higher Plane guy, I'm in a very, very bad mood, so while I'm still asking nicely…" here, the Grand Priestess lowered her hand, the desolate tone in her voice climbing to a higher pitch. "Get the fuck out!" Colossal tendrils of darkness erupted alongside Akamana's voice, coiling upward like a legion of amorphous nether beasts.

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Dark-purple flames lit up the Grand Priestess' eyes, and she arched her back, staring at the sky.

"Lady Akamana, you should understand that the Lord's favor is the only reason a Naifem like you can live so long despite such accomplishments. But the Lord's favor has its limits and will not protect you from the Architech of Destiny!" The divine enforcer sneered, unleashing an infinitely more brutal wave on the undead knight.

Though only a low-level enforcer of the Weaver's court, he was after all an ancient sage at the 12th level of Blood Authority—so far above the top gurus of the Purple Dawn that he didn't even see them as worthy of his breath.

But you see, while confidence is no doubt a quality, arrogance is bad. Arrogance will make you look death in the eyes and puff your chest out like a masochistic meat shield raring to get his teeth kicked in. So, while it's important to be confident in your abilities, do not fall for the trap of arrogance!

The divine enforcer didn't learn that lesson growing up, but as Akamana swiped left, conjuring a set of invisible beasts that bypassed planetary barriers to surround him in his office, the poor chap was about to get an express course in "Watch that Tone, Motherfucker."

"GRRRRRRRRR!" Loud growling sounds boomed left and right, followed by the divine enforcer's long and sorrowful cries. The beasts tore him to shreds, the pieces of his corpse appearing six feet under Akamana's feet.

"I told you to get lost, didn't I? Didn't I tell him to get lost? So why the fuck didn't he? Now look at you, six feet under in the most literal of senses. Talk about a bitch end." Akamana snapped in a crass and roguish tone at odds with her usual self.

Elektra, who understood better than the rest the might of a divine enforcer, held her breath in terror, unable to fathom how Akamana had managed to kill that man from so far ahead and so easily.

Only two were not surprised, Belphegor and Vel'Asha, who now appeared beside Mithras, facing her former student. Elektra went livid, lowering her head as her eyes refused to see the look on the Queen Mother's face.

"Cruel Genesis. Mana, that trump card of yours is as deadly as ever." Vel'Asha ignored her former student, aiming one hand at Mithras and the other at Akamana.

Ahriman's unique flame, nicknamed the King of Slaughter: Cruel Genesis. Except for Ahriman, no one knew how that divine flame worked—not even the people who received the flame from the Antigod.

Yes. In essence, whenever they could use Cruel Genesis, the flame would give them a hunch—guaranteeing a fatal strike. But as for what made it available, that was between Ahriman and the Lord.

Or at least that's how it used to be. Akamana became the first to break that rule, for she didn't receive the flame from Ahriman, instead managing to rob it while the Antigod was granting it to her brother. During the theft, the Grand Priestess obtained the forbidden knowledge—fully unlocking Cruel Genesis.

So, why did she use it so little? Only Akamana could tell. And Vel'Asha…didn't plan to face it. A veil of golden dust dropped on Mithras, and the Queen Mother stepped forward, facing the Grand Priestess.

The moment next, a cluster of 3,000 golden gates formed in the sky. And as the doors opened, a legion of 3,000 beauties with an unusual combination of elfin ears, wide hips, slender waists, and breasts of various sizes walked out, lining up behind the Queen Mother, and falling to their knees!

Golden Palace for the weakest. Blood Longevity galore! And some whose powers reached mysterious and unfathomable heights. Dressed in gold and priceless jewels, yet all dropped without delay, prostrating themselves at Vel'Asha's feet.

"Long live Your Majesty!" The 3,000 Yakshini said in tandem, their voices laced with a mix of awe and adoration.

The queen looked over her shoulder, smiling at Mithras and co.

"My apologies for the delay. It took a bit longer than I expected, but for holding out this long, this…is your victory," Vel'Asha said in a warm and gentle tone and shifted back to Akamana, a spiral of white and golden flames coiling up her form and replacing her dress with a majestic gown of white and gold.

A solar crown appeared on her head, causing the intensity of the demon queen's aura to balloon to divine levels.

In that instant, Elektra's eyes stretched impossibly, and even Akamana's face twisted into a grimace.

Vel'Asha's powers hadn't improved, so why had her aura become so tyrannical?

The answer was wealth! For the queen now wore the divine artifacts of the ruler of the Yaksha race!

"Mana, though I dislike using my status to oppress my foes, the fact of the matter is…that you're just a mortal world faction leader. And even here in the Spiritual Word, your Angra Theocracy wouldn't rank top ten.

But I am Vel'Asha, daughter of Ba'al Agan, Preceptor and Queen of the Yaksha race!

Throughout all planes of existences, honored and revered!

Grand Priestess Akamana, do you truly dare to brave the consequences of challenging…a race of Superior Beings?" Vel'Asha leaned in, standing only an inch away from Mana's nose. And though the Queen Mother was only about 1.76 m, a bit shorter than the Grand Priestess, in this very moment, she towered above her rival like an insurmountable mountain.

Akamana had a choice to make.

The Grand Priestess went silent, closing her eyes and clenching her right fist. The Inversion Skill kicked in. Operating on the Angra casualties to repair the maimed and fresh corpses.

"Mana…" Sensing Akamana's real condition, Belphegor panicked. But before the crippled knight could say another word…

"Belphy, shut up." His sister silenced him with a dismissive gesture.

Still, Belphegor didn't relent, aware that behind her strong exterior, Akamana was just a step removed from ruin.

"Mana…"

"I said…SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Akamana swiped down, sending hands of darkness falling into her undead brother and swallowing him into a world of writhing shadows!

A chill went up the ladies' spine, even Mithras couldn't help but hold his breath. The Grand Priestess now turned to the Yaksha Queen, facing her with a murderous glower. The dark-purple flames of Cruel Genesis rotated in Akamana's eyes, flickering with the need to slaughter all indiscriminately.

But here…Akamana saw Ishtar's innocent look. Mithras' cheerful smile. The 3,000 Yakshini Nobles, the Angra casualties. And she pulled in a deep breath, lowering her hand.

"Vel, though you now collect the credit, I didn't lose to you.

Still, boastful as I am in victory, I am not shy to accept…the facts of an L." Akamana whispered and spun 180, collecting her remaining subordinates as she walked away from Vel'Asha.

"The Angra Theocracy…admits defeat!"