Netori: Reborn as the Human Aphrodisiac - Chapter 8: Defeat is not Cultured!

Chapter 8: Defeat is not Cultured!

As guilt took over Mithras’ heart, making him blame himself for this outcome, a series of system prompts echoed in his mind.

<Ding! Ding! Ding! The host is at risk of losing a loved one and has therefore unlocked the Lord’s advice>

<Hidden Quest: Defeat is Not Cultured…triggered>

<A penalty of negative 2,600 Ero Points has been applied. To be reversed once the host resolves the situation>

<Defeat is not cultured, so if the system judges that the host failed to protect one that he cares for, he will be executed by the system—note that the system’s criteria may not necessarily align with the host’s views>

‘Assign blame where it is due, but do not take responsibility for others’ mistakes. Mithras, though in my experience, ruthlessness is a crucial tool for self-preservation, there was nothing you could have done to prevent this outcome.

From the moment you received the Slave Seal, the rest was a foregone conclusion. And even if you directly used the Red Cloud Pythons to exterminate house Astalon, you wouldn’t have been able to escape the capital—much less cure yourself from the Sid Disease or prevent your sister’s talent from getting exposed.

Accept that Fate was not on your side and make the proper plans to counter this situation. You now have my gift in you, making anything less than perfection a failure on your part.

Defeat is not cultured and unfit for the Netori Boss. So do not allow it to become your ending.

I…believe in you.’ The Lord’s message ended here. And while the words could seem harsh on the edges, Mithras didn’t disagree.

There was nothing cultured about defeat. And defeat was what he’d earn if he didn’t find a way to resolve this situation as soon as possible.

But how? How to resolve a problem that involved Akama di Angra? As Mithras’ thoughts reached this point, he realized that another note followed the previous one, this time written in Ishtar’s handwriting.

“Mithras, turns out I was born with a divine-class Mutation known as the Erogasmic Archfiend Mutation. That mutation is a bit special and was the reason for my sickness growing up. I don’t know how, but Arian noticed it and informed his master: the headmistress of the Red Cloud Theocracy. She sold the information to the Angra Theocracy—using me to build an alliance and earn benefits for her faction.

Akamana claims she will need about six months to complete the awakening of my mutation and prepare me for the Archfiend Rite. When that time comes, she will make me an Avatar of Ahriman—Antigod of Infernalism.” Ishtar’s note stopped here—ended by an incomplete and crossed lily drawing.

With just one look, Mithras recognized the incomplete lily. In their youth, before their unreliable father got drafted into the king’s army and went to war against the Red Cloud Theocracy, he taught his children that drawing, promising that whenever one of them was in trouble, they only had to leave that drawing behind for the family to find and rescue them.

These were just flowery words. When disaster struck, the lilies didn’t help. But unlike Mithras, who resented that unreliable father for reasons we won’t explore now, Ishtar always clung to the message behind this drawing—using it as an SOS.

But though she wanted her brother to rescue her, Ishtar realized that Akamana only allowed her to write this note because she didn’t care about Mithras or House Astalon’s reaction.

She was strong. Too strong to be bothered by the tiny Mithras. And aware that making her brother challenge the Angra Theocracy was no different from sending him to his death, Ishtar didn’t finish the drawing, crossing it entirely.

“Mithras…” Cassandra was at a loss. She didn’t know anything about Ishtar’s mutation—much less how Arian had noticed it. However, the “Angra Theocracy” and “Akamana” were names that rang in her ears like thunderclaps. The former represented the only infernal cult that managed to prosper in the Purple Dawn Continent—becoming the undisputed number one despite a multitude of handicaps.

As for Akamana, she was the Grand Priestess of that hegemonic faction, a 1,000-year-old demoness reputed to be only a step away from Blood Longevity while also being an extraordinary Guru.

The Purple Dawn Continent’s strongest templars—leaders of the Theocracies—all stopped at the first level of the Golden Palace. Akamana left them all in the dust, using her overwhelming power to slay her father and take control of the Angra Theocracy. Under her leadership, the Angra went unhinged—openly welcoming mutation bearers and carrying out ritual sacrifices in honor of the most terrifying of Antigods: Ahriman.

The six other Theocracies and fifteen Academies all joined hands to murder the demoness but lost half their men and leaders in the process. Back then, she was only at the first level of the Golden Palace. Now, it was no exaggeration to say that Akamana alone could conquer the Purple Dawn Continent if she wanted to.

But she had greater ambitions. Ambitions she couldn’t accomplish without the help of her deity.

And Ishtar now turned out to be the key to get that help.

<Erogasmic Archfiend Mutation (Divine class): A rare demonic mutation that only appears in certain members of the dragon race, Erogasmic Archfiends possess the unique ability to uplift, seduce and entice those around them with their voice alone. They can also cast illusions and outright suppress their foes’ physical abilities.

As a divine class Mutation, the Erogasmic Archfiend mutation offers overwhelming physical prowess—including extreme speed, strength, elasticity, and reaction time. Owners typically also possess the divine-class Erogasmic Demon Flame and formidable Ero Guru prowess.

The first time of an Erogasmic Archfiend can help templars and gurus alike make a massive leap in Sid level. And when the Human Aphrodisiac unites with an Erogasmic Archfiend, even without meditation skills, they can unlock Tyrant-class Ero Guru prowess.> At Mithras’ request, the system listed the perks of Ishtar’s mutation.

Based on common knowledge, first-class Gene bearers like Arian could only temper themselves to the first level of the Golden Palace—meaning that Akamana likely possessed a king-class mutation at the very least.

This was not good news. Relying on raw power alone, there wasn’t a faction in the Purple Dawn Continent that Mithras could use to defeat her—much less in six months.

Or was there?

‘The Red Cloud Theocracy, number two of the Purple Dawn Continent, only has three Golden Palace tier powerhouses—five if you include the retired grand priest and headmaster.

The Angra Theocracy has 20.

But in the Blood Smelting Kingdom, to say nothing of the Golden Palace—even Great Expansion rank templars are few and far between. Doesn’t this mean that if I can train or take control of a couple Golden Palace rank templars, I can take over the Blood Smelting Kingdom?

Think bigger. With my abilities and system, how hard would it be to take control of the Red Cloud Theocracy’s headmistress and train her to Akamana’s level?

Six months to defeat Akamana on my own is not realistic. But I don’t have to. Pit wolves against wolves. Let the hussies tear one another to shred and collect the benefits. To get my sis back, I don’t need six months…just a good use of my brain and secret juice.’ In a flash, a series of plots flashed through Mithras’ mind.

Had Akamana just wanted to train Ishtar into her successor, the situation wouldn’t have been that urgent. But the hussy was actually conspiring to turn Mithras’ sister into the avatar of an Antigod.

To say nothing of Ahriman. Even if Ishtar had been selected to become the Avatar of the Holy Savior, Mithras would still do his best to foil that plan.

The two had yet to meet, yet Akamana had become Mithras’ worst enemy.

He didn’t just want to defeat her.

He had to make her give up her ambitions and bankrupt the Angra Theocracy for a chance at slobbering on his dick!

“Akama di Angra…you have taken the road of ruin and can only blame yourself for what I will do to you,” Mithras said in a calm and chilling tone—causing Cassandra to shudder at the audacious words.

“Hehehe, quite the bold statement for a little slave!” At that time, a shrill voice echoed from behind the door, rattling Mithras’ ears.

In synch, Mithras and Cassandra turned towards the entrance, where a bloodied Arian held onto his dislocated right arm.