Chapter 9: Some Guys You Just Gotta Stomp!
Following the appearance of Arian, a dreary silence fell on the scene. Mithras stared at Arian. Arian at Mithras, the two fixing one another with undisguised killing intent.
"Arian, what is the meaning of this?" Unable to bear the atmosphere, Cassandra broke the silence.
"What do you think, mom? It's exactly what it looks like. Your son is a lot more capable than you give him credit for," Arian said, and with a shrill laugh, pulled out a black and white mirror. "I had a little fortuitous encounter in the Sanctuary and obtained this little mirror. Not only can it heal all my injuries, but it can also reveal the genes and mutations of those I point it at.
It's a bit greedy for Ener Crystals, but overall, it's a nice treasure. And thanks to this little marvel, I noticed that Mithras' sister...actually possessed a divine class Mutation. Imagine my surprise!
I would have told you, but it's been a while since you stopped being a trustworthy mom." Here, Arian paused, stroking the mirror. Black and white energy rays poured out, mending the young noble's wounds.
In the Purple Dawn Continent, first-class Genes and Mutations were already at the summit. The king class belonged to legends. And as for the saint class, they were so rare that even in the Holy Continent, the top factions that controlled the Spiritual World never stopped competing to acquire or murder these talents.
Mithras' Dragon Horse mutation had been locked at birth, making it impossible for Arian to notice it without a thorough exploration. But for whatever reason, whoever locked Mithras' mutation didn't bother to do the same for Ishtar.
"Initially, I wanted to keep Ishtar for myself. But after getting beaten up by you, mom, I came to my senses. At first, I thought it was because of Mithras, but there's no way you'd beat me for a slave. No, it has to be Ishtar's fault! That woman is the type of treasure that brings more calamity than good fortune. I can't afford to nurture her mutation, and you won't allow me to make her my concubine. So why not sell her to the highest bidder?
Thankfully, my teacher dotes on me and handled it in the blink of an eye—earning plenty of benefit for me and the Red Cloud Theocracy!" Arian rambled incoherently, bursting into laughter. Only a deranged man like Arian could find a way to blame the consequences of his actions on the victims he tried to ruin.
Mithras wasn't surprised. From now on, nothing that Arian did could surprise him anymore. Cassandra, however, was confused—having never seen her son as such a deranged and unstable sociopath.
"Mithras, Mithras, for a mere slave, you truly are full of surprise. I watched you bleed to death after hacking you from head to toe with over 100 knife slashes. So how...are you still alive?" Arian asked, making Cassandra's eyes narrow in a frown.
How indeed? Initially, when she rushed to the scene and saw that Mithras was fine, Cassandra assumed that Arian had misjudged the situation and didn't in fact kill Mithras. But now hearing it once more and considering the divine-class secrets that these siblings carried, Cassandra wondered if Mithras wasn't hiding a treasure or power that helped him fool Arian—something that not even the Slave Seal could suppress.
'But Slave Seals don't suppress powers. They outright cancel the ability to use, release or channel Sid—turning the slave into an ordinary person.
In that state, no treasure or ability can operate. So, there's no way Mithras saved himself with Sid-related tricks...right?' Confused by the situation, Cassandra asked herself.
"Your mother had the best shadow druids of the kingdom train me into a Master of Toxicology. I just used a hallucinogen to make you believe you were slashing me when in truth you were just playing doctor with my clothes...very gay." While maintaining eye contact, Mithras gave a casual reply, dispelling Cassandra's doubts.
On her orders, Mithras had indeed mastered a variety of poisonous arts, becoming a skilled shadow druid. With all the toxins he kept ready for Cassandra's use, it wasn't surprising that he possessed something that could help him trick Arian.
'Nonsense. When would he have gotten the opportunity to poison me?' Arian's eyes flashed with skepticism. But right afterward, the young noble shrugged, bursting into laughter.
"It's fine! It's all fine! I might have lost the opportunity to get the hidden number one beauty of the kingdom, but I still have the official number one as my fiancé! But you, unfaithful slave, will have to live knowing that your sister will become a demoness of the Angra Theocracy and forget all about you!
Akamana di Angra is invincible! Give up those ridiculous thoughts and know your fucking place! You are a slave! A SLAVE! A slave dares to claim he will bring down the number one guru of the continent?! The nerve!
A slave exists to serve his masters! That's your only..." Barely had Arian's words reached this point that Mithras vanished, lunging at Arian so fast that, for an instant, the young noble failed to react.
"Hehehe, fool!" But at the end of the day, Arian was at the seventh level of Flame Refinement and couldn't imagine a world where one of his slaves could challenge him.
"Mithras, stop!" Fearing a disaster, Cassandra snapped. But Mithras ignored her, punching Arian in the jaw. Not bothering to evade, Arian took the blow head-on, but as Mithras' fist neared the young noble's jaw, dark-red flames flashed in his violet eyes, causing Arian's martial instincts to take over and surround him in a shroud of blue flames.
The shroud couldn't block Mithras' path. His fist crashed into Arian's jaw, sending him flying back and knocking out several teeth upon impact.
"How...why do your fists carry this much weight?" Shocked to the core of his soul, Arian's eyes stretched wide, trembling as his body shook and blood trickled down his lips. Mithras neither stopped nor bothered to reply, chasing after Arian, this time with a soccer kick.
"Bold!" Arian's effeminate face twisted into an ugly grimace. The blue flame shroud intensified, becoming a dreadful blaze of blue fire that lit up the underground and pushed Arian's body to its limits.
The illusory shape of a blue hawk appeared at Arian's back, and he stood up, shooting at Mithras with explosive speed.
In the junior generation of the Blood Smelting Kingdom's aristocracy, Arian was the king. Even those with superior templar ranks knew that he would eventually surpass them and become the new leader of the aristocracy. But as Arian pounced on Mithras, and his claws dropped on target, the Astalon noble realized...that he'd overestimated his abilities.
Ducking with impeccable skill, Mithras let Arian's flaming claws rush past him, then sent his right elbow flying upward, again smashing into Arian's jaw, and rupturing it instantly. Mithras didn't stop—cracking Arian's skull with a vicious headbutt, before battering the Astalon noble's chest with a double punch.
"ARGH!" Again, the young noble flew back, this time crashing into a wall and spurting a large mouthful of blood. Dark-red flames oozed from Mithras' mouth, and moving faster than Arian could follow, he locked him against the wall, slicing up his face with a storm of ferocious elbows.
"AAAAAARGH!" Screaming as his face became a mess of blood and broken teeth, Arian unleashed the strongest skill of House Elektra, the Field Scorching Hammer.
The descendants of House Astalon typically learned wind-based techniques. But due to his Blueflame Hawk Gene, Arian was more suitable for House Elektra's fire-based techniques and learned them all in his childhood.
Arian's arms became a pair of blazing hammers, causing large trails of blue fire to form across the air as they dropped on Mithras from left and right. He ignored them. Dark-red flames lighting up his sclera and dispelling the blazing hammers without a sound.
"An...Inner Flame? Imp...impossible!" Unprepared for this result, Arian blanked out, unable to believe his eyes. Cassandra, however, had foreseen this result—shaking her head at her son's stupidity.
Unlike Mutations and Sid Flames, Genes all started at the imperfect state and had to be trained to the perfect state through a long and tedious process.
Arian's Blueflame Hawk Gene was still imperfect. But it was, after all, a first-class Gene. By combining that Gene with his seventh level of Flame Refinement and a superior technique, Arian could indeed defeat most warriors in the later stages of Flame Refinement.
But before Mithras' Wrathful God Fire, he was just asking for a beatdown.
"You...possess an Inner Flame? Such a powerful Inner Flame? How?! Impossible! You're just a slave! A slave!" For the first time since he appeared, Arian panicked, unable to comprehend why things were taking this absurd turn.
"When I was collecting the heads of warlocks and crime syndicates, you were still playing with dolls—begging mommy dearest to buy you the latest fur coats on the market. But you think you're qualified to look down on me? Because of what? Your little nobility title or your insignificant first-class Gene?
What a joke. Just stay on the ground, Arian. Lay down and stop making a fool of yourself. You're a mini boss at best—not the antagonist of my story." Grabbing Arian by the neck, Mithras hoisted him up before smashing the young noble into the ground and soccer-kicking him in the face.
By now, Arian's feminine face had turned into a gory mess. But Mithras didn't stop—flattening his former master's face and stomping him in the throat.
Meanwhile, the system's voice echoed in Mithras' mind.
<Ding! Ding! Ding! The host is humiliating a competitor!>
<Arian is feeling humiliated...50 Ero Points!>
<Arian is feeling humiliated...50 Ero Points!>
<Arian is feeling humiliated...50 Ero Points!>
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