The Invincible Full-Moon System Chapter 1752: It’s My Passion

Rex possessed many foes.

Such was the inevitable price for ascending the hierarchy of power.

However, he had been under the impression that his current adversaries were restricted to a handful of prominent individuals.

His journey to the Spirit Realm was a secret; even his pack members were only informed of his departure once he had already left. Given that he was in a different dimension, the only enemy capable of tracking him down should have been the Fourthborn.

The poisonous threats uttered by that being still echoed in Rex's memory.

Until this very moment, he had remained vigilant regarding the Fourthborn's potential presence.

He had specifically planned to steer clear of anything associated with Chaos during his time in the Spirit Realm, knowing that was the most probable location for the Fourthborn to reside. Luckily, his travels through this realm had been devoid of such influences.

Considering his usual history, it felt like a stroke of luck.

Typically, his fortune as a seeker of power would inevitably lead him into some catastrophic situation.

He felt a sense of relief that the antagonists he had faced so far were strictly native to this realm.

They were individuals lacking high-profile backgrounds.

Yet, he had reached that conclusion prematurely.

It wasn't that he was lucky; rather, a long-standing foe had been observing him from the darkness all along.

The Archangel of Knives was watching.

"Who is that, Rex?!" Amanir shouted, his eyes fixed on the sphere of holy energy pulsating in the air.

"It’s an Archangel," Rex replied with a dark expression. "He is also a Werewolf Hunter. It turns out my fang is the final piece he needs for his collection. We’ve crossed paths and fought once before. Between us, there is an unfinished debt of life and death."

Swish!

As they watched, the holy sphere began to throb like a beating heart.

It vibrated like sanctified water suspended in mid-air while its radiance became overwhelming.

At the fifth pulse, the brilliant light exploded outward, causing the very heavens to flinch.

Rex kept his eyes locked on the blinding light without blinking.

Though his vision burned and felt scorched, he refused to turn away, sensing that losing track of the sphere would mean his certain demise.

From the heart of the fluctuating light, manifested limbs began to claw their way out—six of them, to be precise—and Rex quickly realized they were six golden, feathered wings. Every wing expanded with the roar of divine thunder, showering the atmosphere with fragments of golden divinity.

Above them, the clear sky transformed into a golden hue as clouds gathered and swirled around the sphere.

Rex maintained his gaze, even as he felt his frame shuddering beneath the intense light.

During his initial encounter with the Archangel of Knives, he had been far weaker, requiring Iris’s help to escape the confrontation. However, he had grown significantly stronger since then, even touching the tenth-rank realm in terms of sheer power.

The System had confirmed this advancement.

Despite this, his whole body continued to tremble under the pressure of this radiance.

His primal instincts were screaming at him to run.

How could this be happening? The question repeated itself in Rex’s mind.

With his current strength, he should have possessed the power to dominate the Archangel of Knives.

Yet, the reality of the situation suggested otherwise.

Furthermore, Rex was baffled by how Stelios had managed to enter the Spirit Realm at all.

Rex observed clearly that the life energy of this realm was not pressing against the sphere as it should. Unlike Rex himself, the sphere was not being rejected by the realm’s laws, which should have been impossible since Stelios was not a native.

He belonged to the Mortal Realm.

Somehow, through an unidentified technique, he was existing here without suffering any backlash.

Even his soul appeared to be perfectly intact.

Regardless of the explanation, Rex knew he couldn't afford to show any vulnerability.

In his heart, he understood the immense gravity of the situation.

This wasn't just a fight to protect the lives of those he loved; it was a turning point for his future. Though he was currently in the Spirit Realm, Rex could sense he was being watched.

From across countless worlds.

From across countless realms.

Every Scion was observing this conflict; this was the graduation trial to transform into a Blank.

Rex felt their eyes piercing his skin—monitoring every shallow breath, every pulse of his blood, and the slightest facial twitch. They watched the tension in his muscles, the flow of his power, and the rush of his adrenaline with the focus of a predator.

It felt as though every part of his being was laid open for their analysis.

Any flaw, no matter how minor, would be spotted.

Even worse, such a weakness would be exploited later if he managed to survive this ordeal.

His previous actions had made it clear that anyone who dared to challenge him would pay in blood and agony. Now, through this trial, the Scions were judging if his true strength matched the fierce image he projected.

A single moment of inconsistency would cause his entire facade to shatter.

And such a failure would result in total annihilation.

Swish!

Rex watched as the sky flared as if Heaven itself had opened a portal into the Spirit Realm.

Once the sixth wing appeared, they all folded inward to shield the glowing sphere, and a halo began to form above it. The sound of clashing steel filled the air, and soon, a halo crafted from polished steel manifested.

It was razor-sharp and flawless.

Boom!

Finally, the sphere shattered.

Amanir was thrown back, forced to dig his long ears into the stone ground to anchor himself against the blast of energy.

Golden feathers fell like rain, drifting through the environment in a quiet tempest.

Rex’s eyes narrowed as the sphere dissolved, revealing a figure that looked like a young boy of about thirteen. He had curly blond hair that shone like sunlight and was dressed in flowing white silk that billowed as if the wind itself served him. He wore a condescending grin beneath glowing golden eyes.

A massive ring of runic magic, composed of a hundred holy knives, rotated behind him.

Each blade moved in a calm, orderly circle.

In his hands, he held two curved golden daggers so saturated with holy power that they warped the surrounding space. This was the Archangel of Knives in his true form, devoid of any concealment spells that had previously hidden his identity.

"Does it make you angry...?" Stelios asked, his smirk broadening. "The moment you realize your desperate struggles are nothing but empty echoes in a void? You should have anticipated this. You must have known I would track you down regardless of where you fled."

Rex squeezed his fists shut and clenched his teeth.

Pure rage welled up in his chest.

He tried to maintain his composure, wanting to deny Stelios the pleasure of seeing him rattled—but he couldn't hold it back. Every bit of suffering he had faced in the Spirit Realm, every sacrifice made to reach his goal, seemed to have been for nothing.

From the beginning, his ultimate destination had been within Stelios’s reach.

"You’re likely confused," Stelios said softly, casually spinning the knives in his grip as he floated in the air, looking as relaxed as if the whole world was beneath him. "How I knew you had entered this realm... and how I can stand here without any penalty. Very well—I will give you the answers."

"Angels share a connection that your kind cannot understand. Our link to the Spirit Realm is deeper than blood; I could sense the second you crossed over because I made sure to memorize your scent," he explained, holding up one finger as if teaching a child. Then, he lifted a second finger. "And as for how I arrived so easily... well, you have your own race to thank for that."

Rex remained silent.

He understood there were methods for Stelios to track his movement to the Spirit Realm.

However, a look of confusion crossed his face at Stelios’s second point.

Seeing this, Stelios grinned and summoned a holy chalice above his head.

The moment the vessel appeared, Rex was hit by the heavy scent of blood; he couldn't see the contents, but the metallic smell was unmistakable. Still, he didn't grasp what Stelios was implying.

"During the four days you spent traveling the Spirit Realm, my dear clones were busy staining the Mortal Realm red to collect enough sacrifices to anchor my physical form here," Stelios whispered, his eyes shining with a manic joy. "A few clones were destroyed—there are some surprisingly capable humans out there—but even so, I gathered... what, four? Perhaps five million bodies? I stopped counting after a while."

Deg!

Rex's heart faltered upon hearing those words.

"Awakened... the elderly... men... women..." Stelios’s grin grew even wider. "Even children."

"Some were the same age I appear to be now," he said, gesturing to his youthful form as if showing off his trophies to Rex. "And many were even younger. After all, the younger they are, the more effective they are as a sacrifice."

From the moment Rex saw Stelios’s current appearance, he had felt a sense of loathing.

The boy looked young and innocent, but the expressions he made and the heart within him were anything but. It was a disturbing contrast, and Rex realized he despised this specific look more than anything else.

Adopting a youthful appearance meant to signify purity was a foul choice.

Rex hated it.

But learning that so much innocent blood had been shed made it infinitely worse.

"Hmm, it makes me wonder... since those innocent people would still be alive if you hadn't come to the Spirit Realm, doesn't that mean this is partly your fault?" he asked in a mocking tone. "There has to be some blame on your shoulders, wouldn't you agree?"

Boom!

Rex’s aura erupted, his eyes wide with an intense killing intent.

He had always known the Archangel of Knives was insane—arrogant, vain, and cruel—but he had never imagined anything this horrific. Massacring millions just to secure his presence in the Spirit Realm... that wasn't just ego.

That was a monster disguised in divinity.

That was how he protected his soul from the realm's rejection—by using sacrifices as a shield.

"Did you truly have to go that far...?" Rex whispered, his rage barely contained, his voice shaking with emotion. "Your Origin is gone, yet you still crawl under his commands? Tell me, doesn't that make you a pathetic little dog? Still cowering from a whip that no longer exists, too scared to stop following orders?"

"Doing the same task for centuries... eventually, it stops being a chore and becomes something much more enjoyable," Stelios replied, tilting his head with a boyish curiosity that clashed with the slaughter in his eyes. "Hunting Werewolves isn't my job anymore; it's my passion."

He raised one of his shining daggers and pointed it directly at Rex’s neck.

The blade hummed with holy spite, eager for the final kill.

"And now, only one target remains," he added with a smile. "I ask you—why shouldn't I finish the hunt? Not to mention, you were kind enough to come to the Spirit Realm, where the First Light resides. This is too perfect to ignore. I can execute you right in front of the First Light. A poetic conclusion before I commit myself to the First Dark."

"A rebirth..." he said with a tone of satisfaction. "I am thankful for you, Royal Black Prince. Once you are dead, I can step into the new era without any burdens. And with my power, both the Mortal Realm and the Spirit Realm shall kneel before the Dark Angels."