Netori: Reborn as the Human Aphrodisiac

In each era, prodigies arise from various backgrounds, transcending the norm, challenging boundaries, breaking records, and outdoing their predecessors. Among them, some would rise above the rest, but as progress stays eternal, our legends would eventually get toppled by the next wave of prodigies. At least till now, this was Belphegor's belief.

But as his trembling eyes stared at his missing arm and disintegrated hammer, the Knight of Ahriman couldn't shake the thought…that the monsters of this era would become the standard for myriad generations to come—unmatched till the end of time.

And if that dragon youth didn't perish…he would lead them all.

"Yes. How could I forget? You are Mithras—the Mithras. Treating you as a junior was indeed disrespectful." Remembering something he'd heard from Akamana, Belphegor snapped out of his trance, clenching his remaining fist.

He couldn't use the Inversion Skill and had not yet mastered the Fourth Secret, but the First Zealot too had tricks to regenerate a missing limb. And yet he didn't, resolved to keep this injury as a reminder of this shameful loss.

The moment next, the undead knight rammed his remaining arm into the ground, the Red Flame of Ahriman's Wrathful God Fire erupted from his form, shooting upwards as Belphegor dug out a gigantic platform, tossing it upward.

[Worldbreaker]

The same divine ability kicked in, and the platform broke into a cluster of flaming boulders, firing at Mithras like a meteor shower. But the dragon youth stayed unfazed, and as the blood drained from his face, he came flying back, shrinking to the atomic scale as he blitzed through Belphegor's meteors.

Mithras only had about 20 breaths left and couldn't afford to waste even a nanosecond. So, he activated Quantum Tunneling, turning into an atomic flash of light as he phased to Belphegor's back.

The Great Smelting Hammer whirled left, crashing into the undead knight's skull. But in that instant, melancholy filled the undead knight's eyes, and as ink-colored tears fell down his cheeks, a gigantic pair of white phoenix wings sprouted from Belphegor's back, absorbing Mithras' blow and sending him flying back.

At the same time, four dark-purple mirrors formed around the undead knight, blazing with corrupt flames.

[Heaven and Hell Redressed: Mirror of Vanity]

The moment those four mirrors appeared, Belphegor fell to his knees, lowering his head as hands of darkness poured out of the mirrors, each carrying a projection of Belphegor's regrets.

"Why am I still alive? Why am I not dead?

I don't want this. Free me from this world! Let me rest in peace!

Lord…lord! Why have you forsaken me?

Mother…why couldn't I save you? Forgive me! Please forgive me! AAAARGH!" A cacophony of such words echoed from the mirrors, each producing a slightly altered version of Belphegor's voice.

Jet-black flames set the undead knight ablaze, and to Mithras' shock, the world sank into darkness, with all the light snuffed out by the undead knight's grief!

Belphegor's Pyromantic Thesis, Heaven and Hell Redressed, erupted in full force—directly summoning its strongest ability: the Mirror of Vanity. Now surrounded by a duo of red and dark flames, Belphegor stood up, becoming the light in the darkness as the only spark allowed.

But to the onlooker's shock, as he turned towards Mithras, the undead knight had shriveled completely, going from a herculean giant to a thin tower. Even his cheeks looked sunken and emaciated, yet Mithras didn't doubt that Belphegor had never been stronger. The knight lunged forth, instantly appearing beside Mithras and hacking at his neck with a blade of darkness.

[Twin Snake Composition]

An ordinary snake substituted with Mithras, taking the blow for him and bursting into a thousand pieces. This time, however, the snake didn't regenerate. Or rather, it wasn't regenerating fast enough.

Belphegor's shadow flickered once more, surrounding Mithras front back, left and right with a trio of Flame Clones. Each of the four Belphegor's steps left explosive trails of fire, their blades hissing like electric razors.

At first, Mithras escaped with the Reduction Secret, but Belphegor gave chase with the same trick. And while just like Akamana and Elektra, the undead couldn't maintain a Divine Secret indefinitely, Mithras only had about ten breaths left before his thesis ended him.

And if he canceled it to escape death, then it was Belphegor's blade that would slice through his neck!

But Mithras didn't despair, because as he studied Belphegor's Thesis with the Sensory Secret, the dragon youth realized that just like his, Belphegor's Thesis was flawed!

More accurately, Belphegor didn't complete his thesis. Because Belphegor didn't have inner peace, Ahriman completed it for him! And so, the thesis could never reach its full potential. Just enough for Belphegor to keep progressing as a flame manipulator.

"Sir Belphegor, there is no dream in your thesis. No aspiration. The Pyromantic Thesis or the Palace of Indulgence. Depending on where your talent is stronger, you focus on one till they one day become your Divine Fantasy. But sir Belphegor, how can a barren thesis ever evolve into a fantasy?" Mithras asked in a rhetorical tone, and the moment next, his lips curled into a wicked grin.

The 250 golden palace hybrids turned into a purple blaze, and from that blaze, a new monster emerged, colossal and dazzling, so bright that its light destroyed Belphegor's darkness.

Even Belphegor's Perfect Eye struggled to withstand that light. The only one on the scene able to see the shape of that new beast, a limbless dragon with protruding horns and a golden mane of hair.

A bright purple sun hovered above the beast, with a pair of horrifying eyes staring at Belphegor from within.

In that instant, the knight realized that while Mithras' thesis couldn't yet alter the world. He'd no doubt mastered the art of altering life through flame.

"For so many in this world, life is confined within the span of a century! What century? Some don't even get to celebrate their first birthday before their life is taken away. But you have lived for a millennium, deified, worshipped, honored, and revered! Standing at the top of a whole continent for close to a damn thousand years! But you don't appreciate life?

You…want to die?

Belphegor, I'm going to be the inconsiderate bastard here and kindly say fuck you!

If you are so sick of being alive…THEN WHY THE HELL ARE YOU STANDING IN THE WAY OF THE LIVING?!" Mithras snapped, the Great Smelting Hammer dropping like rolling thunder and smashing into Belphegor's skull!

His Inner Shield cracked, and the undead knight flew back, cratering in the distance.

The remaining zealots couldn't believe it.

The world ground to a halt—all holding their breaths as the realization that the Knight of Ahriman had been defeated…settled.

But in that instant, half a breath away from death, Mithras released his thesis, falling face-first, and unable to move one inch.