BXBX NOVEL Chapter 100: The Blood Hunt Begins!
As the Sword of Vritra and leader of the House of Wyrms, Menaka possessed the unique ability to summon the weapons and channel the abilities of the Dead God Vritra. But to achieve that, she not only needed to sacrifice her limited supply of Black Dragon Stones but also endure the agony of countless wyrms feasting on her organs from the inside out.
Kinda like Mithras' Flawed Thesis: Million Snakes of the Burning Hell.
Only the Holy Balmaria possessed the technology and methods to fix Menaka's condition after she activated one of her stones. But considering that the Dragon King and Holy Emperor both disowned her for marrying a human, counting on Balmaria now was like asking for humiliation.
Even the Inversion Skill wasn't enough. For while impeccable when it comes to injuries, maiming, and even death, the Inversion Skill didn't work that well on…pretty much everything else—courtesy of the Fundamental Principles not wanting the mightiest mortal gurus to be able to reverse time at will.
But as Akamana flew into a silent rage, an undead knight appeared, walking out from a twister of writhing shadows.
"Calm down. If Odoacer was that easy to kill, don't you think Galahad and Agravain would have murdered him by now? At the moment, you can only control 10% of Zagan's powers. But even if you unlock all 100%, how can you kill a true immortal? Especially with Trajan on his side.
It's not just about strength. Until we discover the rules of Odoacer's immortality and the Fylkirs' secrets, we must act with caution," Belphegor reminded, tossing a dark, beating heart at her sister. Akamana caught it without looking back, squeezing out drops of purple blood and helping her bestie absorb them.
The moment next, Menaka's skin regained some life. Her nonstop spasms reducing somewhat.
Nice but not enough—far from it, in fact. And if they didn't find a proper solution in the days to come, the Sword of Vritra…could very well lose her life here.
Only four people could realistically save her: Agravain, Galahad, Trajan…and of course Odoacer.
Said otherwise, unless Akamana herself found a cure…Menaka was fucked.
Wait…how about…Mithras?
Be it for the Violet Flame or his recent feats, as she stared at her agonizing bestie, Akamana became convinced…that Mithras too might have a solution. But the same problem returns…why the fuck would he help?
'Alas. If there is one thing that Vritra's bloodline is awful at…it is forgiveness.'
Meanwhile, in the Great Blood Megalopolis, Odoacer sat on his ruby throne, the skulls of his most memorable enemies adorning the chair. A court of 500 Blood Nobles, ancient beings saved for the future and awoken by the Fylkirs, stood underneath him, all dressed in red warlock robes or scarlet armors—and kneeling at the throne.
"Shapur," With his cheek resting on his fist, Odoacer called, and the moment next, squalls of blood mist flew into the throne room, coalescing in a lanky giant with pale-blue skin, full red eyes, and a long mustache matched by a mane of dark hair.
"Ut'zraak, ot A'rak!
My lord calls, and I answer!" The newcomer dropped to his knees, the scarlet and gold of his armor making his Fylkir status evident.
Still, though he no doubt ranked among the most powerful entities of the Spiritual World, the Fylkir showed no arrogance, showing his lord the devotion of a true vassal:
The King of Hunters, Shapur di Rashukan, had entered the scene.
"Awaken Hakim and send him with a detachment of 100 Blood Hunters, and as many Warghests as you deem necessary…to infiltrate the Jade-Faced Academy…and bring back my son," Odoacer ordered, instantly causing the audience of Blood Nobles, Shapur included, to frown in confusion.
"Ha…kim? If my lord so commands, I shall obey. But…is this not reckless?" Shapur asked.
Of Odoacer's subordinates, Shapur and Gurdenhozer were the most obedient—saying yes first and asking questions next. The mere fact that Shapur dared to question Odoacer's choice showed…how much of a troublemaker Hakim was.
"On the contrary. It is time we establish who of the Second Generation must be kept, and who should be disposed of. With the exception of a handful, the second generation of Fylkirs…is a gang of failures.
Powerful, yes, but incomparably foolish and arrogant. That arrogance almost destroyed the empire in its infancy—forcing me to put the survivors of the civil war in Stasis.
They had tens of thousands of years to mend their ways and learn their place. So now we find out who of the brood learned the lesson.
Hakim is one of the strongest survivors of the Blood Calamity. Either he falls in line, or he dies. As for Mithras…this will also be an opportunity to evaluate my prince's growth. Monitor them from a distance, but do not interfere.
If Hakim goes out of line and murders Mithras…dispose of him and bring back my son's corpse. I will handle the rest," Odoacer ordered, his words causing the audience of elders and ancients to shiver from head to toe.
As ancients of the Blood Aristocracy, all understood Odoacer's train of thought. The problem was Hakim. Nicknamed the Huntmaster for his obsession with blood and slaughter. Hakim was the Incarnation of the Curse—all that is wrong and twisted in the Blood Aristocracy.
Expecting Hakim to mend his ways is like hoping for a tiger to turn into a shepherd—hopeless no doubt.
"Understood!" Shapur, however, didn't hesitate. Vanishing in a whirl of blood mist to carry out his lord's bidding.
"The time has come, Mithras, for you to show us all…why only you are worthy to seize the world with me.
The Prince of the Hadu…cannot lose to a Rashukan." Odoacer didn't hide his thoughts, causing the audience of elders to lower their heads—holding their breaths as they pictured the carnage about to sweep through the Jade-Faced Academy!