In the Bloodborn Palace, Odoacer sat on his ruby throne, tears dropping from his eyes as he trembled nonstop.
"All...dead? My brothers...have fallen?
My brothers...decimated by my son? No...no! It has to be a mistake! Trajan! Shapur! Arminius, Hadrian, Gurdenhozer!
My brothers—Trajan! Aaaaaargh!" In a fit of murderous frenzy, Odoacer lunged out of his palace, soaring into the sky in a flash of sanguine rays!
"DRAKNEIL!" The Fylkir called, summoning his ancient mount. A colossal gray-skinned gargoyle with gigantic steel wings dropped from the heavens, putting Odoacer on its back...before turning into a meteor of sanguine flames!
The target? Springtime City!
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100,000 years. For over 100,000 years, the Five Kings had been biding their time, waiting for the day Odoacer would return to lead the restoration of the Empire.
But in the span of a minute, they'd all fallen—slaughtered by their brother and liege's son. For indeed, though Hakim exploited the opportunity to decimate Shapur, it was Mithras who singlehandedly annihilated the Five Kings, starting with Trajan!
Akamana couldn't believe her eyes. How long ago was it that Mithras had to put his life on the line, relying on tricks, luck, alliances, and ruinous abilities to contend with the Angra Theocracy?
That same Mithras had now eradicated the Fylkirs? Trajan included? How did this happen? Though she witnessed the slaughter from start to finish, Akamana still struggled to accept...that this was Mithras' work.
Except for the like of Odoacer, Galahad and Agravain, who could face the current Mithras?
Even Cassandra, Honoria and Nagini stared slackjawed. Only Ishtar stayed composed, not surprised in the slightest.
And this was only the begining. In time the world would learn, understand and embrace...the fact that no man—mortal, immortal or divine—none could measure up to her brother's glory.
The Sun is matchless after all. And its light...shall ultimately...expunge all the filth!
[Ding! Ding! Ding!]
[The Five Kings have fallen! The Blood Princes...now awaken from stasis!]
[Hakim ascends to the first generation and replaces Shapur as King of the Rashukan!]
[Marcus replaces Trajan as King of the Nerva!]
[Lucius replaces Hadrian as King of the Antinos!]
[Caligula replaces Gurdenhozer as King of the Balarak!]
"To one day serve an emperor: the Emperor—greatest of the great.
The same way the old blood formed around Odoacer, the young blood should assemble under your leadership, kickstarting the revolution of the second generation." Hakim pleaded his case, but as the two fell out of Akamana's sight...
"It does have a nice ring to it," Mithras said, in that same breath blitzing Hakim with a murderous hammer swing.
The huntmaster's body turned sluggish, but with a burst of sanguine flames, he flew out of the way, avoiding the lethal swing.
A chunk of Hakim's right temple burst anyway, spurting jets of blood!
Hakim wasn't angry. On the contrary, as he looked at Mithras, genuine appreciation flashed in his eyes.
"Good call. I was just looking for an opportunity to decimate you.
The second generation doesn't have a single man or woman willing to take orders. We all aspire to lead our revolution and impose our vision on this world of madness!
And unlike our progenitors, we the survivors of the Blood Calamity have all tamed or embraced our Abominations—predestining us...to transcending The Primogens!
A 'why should we follow them when we're doomed to surpass them?' type of logic." Here, Hakim paused, stroking his chin as he looked sideways.
"Though now I'm curious, since you've decimated your pop's bros and all, will he still want to share the world with you...or just murk your ass and replace you with Aurelian?
Bad choices anyway. Aurelian is bad. Real, real bad. But Mithras might still be worse.
Poor Odoacer, never got an heir proper. Not now or ever. The Hadu bloodline is a goner, and I'm all for it." Hakim burst into laughter, turning heels as his cackling voice resounded.
"We will meet again, Prince of the Hadu. And on that day you might very well become the finest trophy...on my Wall of Embalmed Corpses," Hakim pledged, scattering into dust the moment next.
A second later, Hakim reformed, his back facing Mithras' hammer.
"Who said you could leave?" Mithras asked, sanguine mist blowing out of his pores as his hammer crashed into Hakim's side—sending him barelling through five buildings.
"Springtime City is the crown jewel of my bro's heritage. My turf and responsibility. You really thought you could cause a ruckus here and walk away with your head on your shoulders? Mhm, Uncle Ruckus?
Since you're going to act a fool, I'm treating you like one. So from now on, your name is Uncle Ruckus, or Tom—your pick." Mithras appeared above a comatose Hakim, stomping him in the nuts!
A crater formed underneath, sinking the ground as Hakim reeled in shock.
"All flash and fancy gear. Age gap of a thousand year, but he still gotta lay down, face down, ass up, and take it like a bitch.
Shame, real shame. And to be brutally honest, you have caused no harm...and accomplished nothing," Mithras said, aiming his right index at the sky as his Majesty unfurled!
"Return to life!" Mithras ordered, causing millions of blood particles to drop from the sky, and mesh with the remains of the Rashukans' victims...to return them all to life!