The Invincible Full-Moon System - Chapter 1791: Glare of the Red Eye

Chapter 1791: Glare of the Red Eye

Miriam of the Moonbringer.

She has served the royal bloodline for a thousand years. Her feat of keeping the Honey Moon Princess— safe and sound through the deathly grasps of the Undead and the bloodthirst of the Vampires gave her the chance to enter the respected ranks of the Night’s Triarchy.

An exclusive title, the highest among the guardians of the royal bloodline.

Two-hundred years have passed since then.

Privilege and praise, pain and sorrow—she had tasted them all in those years.

Every reward she accepted with open arms. Evey commanded, no matter how hard, she embraced them with arms even wider.

She’s the guardian protector of the royal bloodline.

Anything the princes and princesses wanted, she would not hesitate to do.

And right now, she has an order.

Princess Selene of the Honey Moon is distressed, cornered by the lethal hands of traitorous werewolves who forgot their roots. She gave a command: Create a valid wide-area spell that would knock the enemy forces asleep.

A stalling wide-area spell to wait for the Blood Moon.

The enemy side is bolstered by Sintra, a well-known Shaman with sophisticated knowledge.

Is Sintra strong? Yes. Stronger than her? No.

Only half a hand of Shamans are stronger than her, and Sintra wasn’t one of them.

Miriam was ready.

From the time she was given the task to the expected attack was only a week.

Such a sudden request would be hard to do, but she would never say no, that’s her vow as a guardian.

And now, the small, enclosed chamber became a nexus of glowing moon runes, each one etched by her own hand to ensure flawless, unwavering consistency. Eight pivotal runes, far larger than the rest, were placed on the walls—their light pulsing in direct sympathy with the moon stones she had prepared well across all corners of the canyon.

She and the spell are ready.

As soon as Princess Selene gave the command, she would place a drop of blood at the center.

It would then activate the spell and put everyone inside the canyon to sleep, including her.

And the spell would be broken once the Full Moon arrives.

Consequently, if Princess Selene changed her mind, she needed only place a drop of her own blood upon a dormant array created in the canyon’s outer ring—a simple, deliberate act, only a few paces behind her, far removed from the complex nexus.

It would unravel the entire spell in an instant.

Though unlikely, she prepared the array in case of the unexpected happening.

And true enough, the command came through telepathy.

It seemed a remote possibility, but she had prepared the array for the unexpected.

And in the end, the command came as she held provisioned through a direct thought in her mind.

Princess Selene’s voice echoed in telepathy.

’Kill the spell.’

Simple and direct, exactly like how Miriam liked to perform efficiently.

She didn’t lament upon the hours and hours of rune carving that she died to ready this spell. Her duty is to serve. Even if Princess Selene was told to make this for entertainment, she wouldn’t complain. But other than that, in truth, she was also quite hesitant to use the spell on fellow werewolves.

Traitor or not.

Spells of the moon are used to protect werewolves and attack their enemies.

It felt wrong to use the spells like this.

But that was no longer.

Miriam turned and walked towards the array, cutting her fingertip in the process with her claws.

She stretched out her hand and let a drop of her blood fall.

Tick…

Like a distorted dream, the world from her vision suddenly blurred.

Miriam blinked hard, forcing the world back into focus.

As the blurriness cleared, a cold, sharp understanding took its place.

She wasn’t standing on the outer ring of the chamber.

She wasn’t standing before the array.

No. She was standing right at the center of the nexus.

And her drop of blood already activated the spell, lighting up the entire chamber with moonlight energy.

“What?! How did I—?!” Miriam’s voice cracked. She spun instantly, scanning the chamber in a frantic desperation. Around her, the flow of moonlight energy was already solidifying into the basis of the spell, too late to cancel.

She dropped to her knees, hands clawing over the earthy floor.

One option remained.

Find the nexus core and tear it apart by force.

Of course, forcing the spell to shut down like this would inflict immense backlash on her.

One of the defensive mechanisms of the spell.

But that’s far better than having to fail a simple command.

Deg—!

Just then, her hands faltered as the blurriness returned along with an immense migraine that attacked her mind. Her loyalty and determination kept her conscious for longer, but being conscious and exacting what needed to be done are t two completely different things.

From the depths of her soul, there was a rising anger.

It was an anger that any werewolf has that was forcibly awakened.

She falls sideways weakly, her claws still trying to reach the nexus core.

And as her consciousness faded, a mutter slipped past her lips.

“Blood Moon…”

…

Swoosh—!

“What do you mean you can’t communicate with her?!” Evelyn’s voice rose—as her gaze flicked from pillar to pillar, watching them form a cubical cage that blocked even the energy outside from entering the canyon.

“I don’t understand…” Princess Selene rasped, colors draining from her face. “She isn’t responding.”

“As I expected, you’re only pretending to accept the peace deal,” Gistella scowled. She never liked the princess from the get-go, and now her dislike was justified. “You’re only stalling for time so that we’re trapped, aren’t you?”

“I’ve put aside my pride, and you’re blaming me?!” Princess Selene bellowed—frustrated. She pointed at her own, confused face, “Does this look like the face of triumph?”

“Stop it, you two,” Evelyn intervened. “We need to find a way to stop this. Where is Miriam?”

“It’s already too late.” Princess Selene gritted her teeth.

Before Evelyn could ask what had prompted her to say that, the cubical cage flashed with an intense light. So much so that it was almost physical. A blinding white force that drove them to shield their eyes with their arms.

And when their vision cleared, their eyes witnessed a gentle silvery rain.

It wasn’t water, but a fine, shimmering dust that drifted down like powdered moonlight, carrying a scent that was overwhelmingly fragrant. Like the first, perfect breath of a night-blooming flower at the peak of its maturity.

And then, following the scent, came an exhaustion so profound it felt like a command.

A warm, heavy sleepiness poured over them, dulling thought and dragging at every limb.

Gistella’s center of gravity was lost as she stumbled to the railing.

Suffering the same fate, Princess Selene reached her hands to grab hold of something, anything.

Evelyn frowned, shaking her head to fight back the sleepiness.

The Great Luna’s voice kept on ranting inside her mind, beckoning her to stay awake—and find a way out of this situation. Falling asleep now meant waking up under the Blood Moon. And at that time, there will be no more parley.

All werewolves would be devoured by anger.

Some would be able to fend off the influence, but most would fall to madness.

Through heavy, half-lidded eyes, Evelyn looked down from the balcony. The battlefield was now still; every warrior, ally, and enemy alike slumped on the ground in enchanted sleep. She turned her head, a monumental effort.

Gistella and Princess Selene lay nearby, equally overcome.

Driven by instinct, her gaze dragged upward to the moon.

She was met with the waxing gibbous moon hanging like a swollen, red eye in the sky.

And in her fading consciousness, it seemed to be glaring straight at her with cold, deliberate focus.

But the thought had no time to form.

Her body went slack as she slid down to the stone floor, back against the cold railing.

ROAR—!

Even though her world was turning dark, she could hear a deafening roar coming from the battlefield.

It was Sven.

He seemed to be the only immune, or rather, the one who could last the longest.

’Maybe he can he—’

Her thought had no time to form, and the last of her will dissolved into the same deep, silent dark.

…

Noctem Vale.

Ravencort House, the main estate.

“Raagghk!”

A violent, sweeping arm sent bottles, brushes, and a heavy silver mirror crashing to the floor.

Everything shattered.

A noblewoman stood in the wreckage, her chest heaving up and down frantically. Her hair, supposedly always coiled in impeccable order even at the midnight hour, was a wild, torrent around her shoulders. Strands caught in the sweat at her temples, and the frantic clutch of her own fingers.

Each breath rasped in the sudden quiet, sharp and uneven.

She turned to the side.

Her hands, usually so still and graceful, knotted into fists before flying out again, knocking a violet vase from its stand. When there was nothing left to throw, they scraped along the silk-wallpapered wall, not in search of something, but in a frantic, clawing motion.

As if she could tear her way out of her own skin, out of the room, and out of this isolation.

It was a desperate, uncoordinated motion of a creature trapped.

Claw marks marred the walls, the bedsheet was torn, and the furniture was splintered.

And now, the noblewoman was clawing on the enchanted floor.

Her fingernails broke, not because of the clawing motion, but because sharper, thicker claws emerged from inside her fingertips. Blood littered the ground as she kept going. It was painful. One could see it from her expression, but she kept going anyway.

Just then, her movement stopped.

Aoouuu—!

A howl in the distance.

She lifted her head, her gaze finding the window through the tangled veil of her own hair.

Meanwhile, the commotion in the room doesn’t reach downstairs.

A man wearing a butler uniform was sitting inside his personal workroom, behind a wooden table. It was already past midnight. All of the maids and servants were already in their sleeping spaces, so today’s supervising was over.

He was relaxing inside the room, reading a book that he picked up recently.

But at midnight, reading time was interrupted by the sound of knocking.

“Come in.”

Gently, the door was pushed open as a servant entered.

His face was apologetic.

He knew that normally, the head butler doesn’t want to be disturbed around this time.

But it was urgent.

“I’ve received a letter from Princess Davina,” the servant said, placing a letter on the table. “I don’t think I should be the one reading it. I don’t know whose it is for, either. I don’t recognize anyone with the name written on it.”

“Omen Chick?” The head butler lazily looked at the name. “It’s for Lady Mira.”

Not even wasting a second, he cut open the letter and read its content.

Seeing this, the servant flinched as Lady Mira should’ve been the one to open it.

But he dared not say anything.

“Dead Lady Mira, I hope this letter reaches you in good health and swift passage,” the head butler reads out loud. “I must urgently request your presence. A matter of grave import has arisen within the empire, central to Her Majesty the Empress and Lord Rex. I am aware of your… association with the latter.

“Make haste to Rontera with all discretion. An agent will await your arrival to conduct you to me.

“Time is of the essence.”

Upon finishing the letter, the head butler immediately stood up and rushed out of his workroom.

He maneuvered through the wide halls and long stairs to reach Lady Mira’s room.

Urgently, he knocked on the door.

“Lady Mira.”

He knocked again.

“Lady Mira, you have an urgent matter to attend to.”

Still nothing.

Brazenly, the head butler twisted the door handle and stepped inside, only to find the room was empty.

Not only that, but it was also thrashed completely.

A breeze entered the room.

And it was only then that the head butler realized the window was broken, almost like someone forced their way through it.

“What happened here…?”