The Invincible Full-Moon System - Chapter 1640 1640: Misfit to the Horde

Nothing ever went as planned.

It was the curse that had been looming over Rex ever since his climb to power started.

Regardless of how careful and meticulous he planned out a situation, there will always be variables that would mess up his plan or at least be an obstacle to success. It happened so many times that Rex was already used to it.

His success always relies on how he reacts to the developing situation.

It had always been the case.

Due to that, he didn’t feel relieved when he managed to force Haxel to help handle the situation.

That was only the beginning, and there’s bound to be more problems he needs to deal with.

Haxel was extremely confident, so Rex had to keep an eye on his next moves.

Regardless of what his plan was, Rex knew that he had to somehow go through the powerful bubble first, and that filtered out a lot of unnecessary clues that would lead nowhere. All Rex had to pay attention to was anything that could possibly shatter the bubble.

And upon noticing the crack on the bubble, he immediately scanned the ground again.

Surely, the crack was caused by the powerful quake produced by the beads buried in the ground.

He must have a stronger bead planted under the bubble. Rex thought; his crimson eyes glistened as he searched for the beads. Like earlier, he’d wait for a massive distraction before detonating the bead. It must be somewhere near the crack.

It was the most obvious method.

Rex decided to investigate that first since that’s the most likely scenario.

Once he was sure that there weren’t any, he could then focus on other things.

But time was unforgiving in an intense situation such as now.

Just as soon as Rex noticed that there weren’t any beads inside the ground that could possibly breach the bubble, his ears picked up a spectral hiss coming from the separating horde of voidal monsters. He tilted his head to the side, searching where the hiss came from.

Near the center of the separating horde, there was a voidal monster that stuck out the most.

Not only because of the seething energy it was emanating, but also because of how it looked.

Since the White Mask seemed to be fond of serpents or reptiles in general, the voidal monsters under it manifested as serpents or serpent-like humanoids. Most of them bore venom-laced fangs—or weapons, natural weapons dripping with poison.

However, this voidal monster was completely uncharacteristic.

Rex was reminded of the Shapeshifters from this particular voidal monster’s appearance.

It was a tall, long-limbed white creature—a nightmare draped in shadows.

Both its arms were not arms at all, but monstrous scythes—elongated growths of bone and chitin.

Natural weapons that were a part of its very being, fused seamlessly into its form like extensions of its will to kill. Worse still was its face—or rather, the absence of one. Where eyes, nose, and mouth should have been, there was only a smooth, featureless helm of flesh and horn.

It gazed without gaze, stared without eyes, an emptiness that made others uneasy.

Just the sheer absence of expression made it more terrible than any snarl or grin.

Like the other voidal monsters, it was sprinting straight towards the bubble, but like its form that made it unnatural and out of place, it seemed its intention was also different than the others. Others were on a messy charge, but this creature…It was moving with purpose.

Almost instantly, a window appeared above it as Rex scanned its stats.

…

<Faceless Reaper — Enchanted>

Status: Berserk.

Race: Voidal Knight

Power: Master Immortal 5 (Third Circle) — Faceless Many

Soul Artifact: Pouch of Slaughter – A-grade (Hybrid)

Echo: Phantom of Blood

Spiritual Points: 40,000

Strength: 1,080,000 (+1,550,000)

Agility: 1,202,000 (+1,900,000)

Endurance: 885,000 (+1,350,000)

Danger Zone: Scythe arms.

…

From the stat window of the voidal monster, the Faceless Reaper, Rex was even more certain that this particular voidal monster was taken from somewhere else and placed among the horde. It was detached from its Voidal Monarch and was now manipulated somehow.

Surely, this was the work of Haxel.

And those stats… Where in the heck do those bonus stats come from?

All of the Faceless Reaper’s stats were more than doubled.

Normally, most of the bonus stats in this realm came from the equipment, but this thing was naked.

It wasn’t wearing armor whatsoever.

<Scanning complete!>

<The Faceless Reaper has overdosed on a cocktail of physical enhancement drugs, soul artifact enhancement drugs, and vitality-sacrificing potions that put it in an overdrive state. All of its stats were increased substantially at the expense of its life force. It cannot feel pain and is conditioned to only focus on killing.>

Upon reading the notification, Rex’s brows dipped into a frown.

Even though he was not new to cruelty, this was the first time he came across something like this.

No… Not the first time. I think Billy also got the same treatment.

Recalling his old friend, a frown crept to his face as he had never addressed Billy after their encounter.

He was last aiming for Zaddrass, the Dragon inside Ryze, but was never seen since.

Rex blinked hard and shook his head, forcing the flood of thoughts to the back of his mind. Now wasn’t the time. He was in the middle of chasing the separating horde that was now nearing the bubble, while some were already banging against it.

His gaze locked on the Faceless Reaper.

Every instinct told him to cut it down before it could breathe another second of existence.

Regardless of whether his assumptions were right or not, he was going to kill it first.

Almost instantly, Rex’s muscles coiled—ready to strike.

His ears perked up again.

Another sound caught his attention, but this time, it wasn’t the sound of rough breathing.

It was a whisper.

“Spirit Genesis: Madness of Skartold…”

Rex’s ears twitched as he noticed to whom this voice belonged—Haxel.

Upon casting his Spirit Genesis, Rex’s eyes immediately fixed back on the Faceless Reaper and saw its aura rising rapidly. On its face, red lines began to form a tribal tattoo that framed its face. Its entire skin then turned bright red, before turning back to normal again.

Once it reached its peak power, it launched itself forward like a bullet.

Crash!!

All eyes turned towards the bubble’s direction as the crack spread like lightning across glass, spreading like roots from the point of impact. A sharp report followed, and then, like a dam collapsing, the bubble shattered into pieces.

Rex’s eyes widened at the sight.

A bubble backed by a powerful Obelisk of Life was shattered as easily as that.

He wasn’t even certain he could break the bubble, not even with his full strength.

But the Faceless Reaper had done it as if the barrier were little more than mere brittle ice.

It should still be impossible with its strength, so how?

Rex blinked rapidly, his vision adjusting as the fractured shimmer fell away, revealing the world within the Vinarkin Bubble. A lustrous and lively expanse unfolded before him, a grass plain with beautiful flowers blooming here and there.

It was hemmed by two steep, unforgiving hills that loomed like walls.

Like the plain, there were several vegetation flourishing there.

Half a mile ahead, an immense structure rose—an austere fortress wall.

It was not as massive as the Great Barricade, which was frankly the most incredible structure that Rex had ever seen in his entire life, but it was still something. Just its sheer height and thickness alone exuded the same kind of defiance, a monument designed to crush any thought of breaching it.

However, the horde didn’t falter.

No… they couldn’t falter to be exact, as they were under the influence of the Berserkin Berries.

If anything, their frenzy deepened—they surged faster, darker, more feral as though the shattering of the bubble had made them bolder, unshackled their hunger. A black tide rushed in, endless as the ocean, trampling on the beautiful grass plain and corrupting the soil.

Behind them, the smoke of the Black Rift crept in, invading the place that was untouched by it.

On the wall’s crown, soldiers of the legions stood braced, a line of iron resolve.

Each of their silhouette bristled with weapons, all kinds of range weaponry—bows strung tight, canons locked in place, even robust contraptions like hand-cranked flamethrowers could be seen spitting faint energy in anticipation.

Although the helmets masked their expressions, Rex could feel their shock ripple through the air.

It was sharp and undeniable.

Even Rick, drawn by the thunderous crash, froze as he arrived at the scene.

His eyes widened, stunned, as the once-impenetrable fortress flickered and disintegrated before him.

Its ruin heralding the flood of thousands upon thousands of voidal monsters spilling forth like a wicked, nightmarish tide, devouring the plain in their rush. Earlier, Rick had almost decided not to station more than a few to guard this bubble.

Since the bubble was quite impenetrable, he didn’t feel the need to protect this bubble as much.

As a matter of fact, he was going to be the only one here while the soldiers were stationed elsewhere.

Fortunately, he made a change right near the end.

“Sir Rick, what should we do?”

A soldier beside him asked with a shaky voice, seeing how many voidal monsters had entered.

“That’s a lot of voidal monsters, and their Knights weren’t a small portion either!”

“None of them could breach the wall, but climb it? All of them can!”

More soldiers voiced out their concerns openly, not holding back what they have in mind at all.

Of course, the soldiers knew the weight of the Vinarkin Bubble—and were prepared to die defending what lay beyond the wall. Yet even resolve wavered beneath the shadow of so many beasts. They still needed Sir Rick’s voice—a rallying cry to convince them that this battle was not beyond their grasp.

At the very least, five thousand voidal monsters had entered—most of them serpentine abominations, but their sheer number was a nightmare in itself. Against them stood barely four hundred soldiers manning the Vinarkin Bubble, outnumbered more than ten to one.

So many bubbles needed their reinforcements, so their legions were spread thin.

Sir Rick knew what they wanted.

And he knew exactly how to give it to them.

“What else should a warrior do?” Rick said, his voice thundering across the top of the walls. “We fight!”

Upon saying that, he drew his long sword from behind.

Rick lifted his longsword with practiced ease, the weight of the steel seeming no more than a feather in his grip. He let it flow through the air, brandishing it expertly until, with a final flourish, he brought the blade upright before his face.

The cross-guard levelled with his chin, and his gaze fixed forward.

Power gleamed in his eyes, a conviction so palpable it seemed to pass like a current into the onlookers.

A tide of life energy—grey and fierce as storm winds flowed from the sword, brushing the soldiers in a chilling breeze that stole their breath. With that sure came Rick’s Soul Artifact: a grey inverted sword tattoo, etched down across his eye.

Another wave of power erupted outward, his aura climbing skyward until it turned into a mountain.

All the men could only stare as the rose engraved upon the hilt writhed, twisting, reshaping.

Pale, thorned roots burst from the craving, coiling around the grip and twining up Rick’s gauntleted arm like a snake. They pierced through steel and flesh alike, thorns drinking deep of his blood—yet instead of weakening him, they bound him tighter to the weapon.

Now, the sword was no longer something he held—it was an extension of his body.

Gasps rippled across the wall. Awe. Fear. Reverence.

The sight seared into the hearts of the soldiers, reminding them of who stood at their front.

Rick did not wait. With a sudden motion, he leapt from the battlements, soaring into the air, the wind roaring around him. His longsword, now alive with power, rose high above his head. For a heartbeat, his eyes blazed with a flicker of unstoppable resolve—then the blade descended.

BOOM!