The Invincible Full-Moon System Chapter 1784: Might of the Opposing Force
Previously on The Invincible Full-Moon System...
Adhara unleashed her spirit toward the wall of fog, extending her arms wide to either side.
A violet fulmination erupted in the next instant.
She tore open the path to the enemy stronghold, forging a gateway to dismantle the rebellion once and for all.
Before the purple radiance could fade along with the mist, Adhara commanded her Flames of Jealousy to spiral around her limbs before drawing them back into her core. In this conflict, her role as the Female Alpha was singular: she was the tip of the spear.
With that purpose, she moved forward.
Her muscles expanded and shifted, her skin becoming saturated with strands of white—a total transformation.
She assumed a state that no werewolf dared to even witness.
The Anti-Werewolf.
The bloodline most dreaded in the entire history of werewolves.
A lineage that served as the physical manifestation and direct mirror of the White Omicron.
Stopping fifty meters from the receding wall of mist, Adhara paced its length. Her luminous white eyes scanned the environment with hawk-like precision. Fear did not touch her. Despite knowing what awaited behind the shroud, she remained unshaken.
Only one obstacle remained between her and the chance to soothe Rex’s heart and gain his approval.
For those prizes, she felt a burning anticipation.
But for the foes who would soon face her on the field, she was nothing short of unhinged.
Roar—!
A thunderous cry erupted from her throat, emitting a soundwave that shattered the final remnants of the fog, dispersing it like smoke in a hurricane. Embedded in that wave was her debilitating energy, a lethal force to any werewolf, which rippled across the square until it slammed into an unseen barrier.
A massive, metallic ring echoed, causing the very stones underfoot to tremble.
"It appears we may have slightly underestimated them," Gistella murmured.
She began channeling death energy and moonlight energy into her black heart, bracing for a brutal confrontation.
"Indeed," Evelyn added from the rear. "This exceeds my expectations."
For a fleeting moment, as the world seemed to freeze, the Great Army and its commanders held their breath. As the mist finally evaporated, they finally laid eyes on the opposing force—the ones still obstinately defending the selfish princess.
Just as predicted, the main square was occupied by a surging tide of fur and malice.
The nearly full Blood Moon loomed above like a bloated, crimson eye, bathing the scene in a hue of fresh gore. It was a vast ocean of tensed muscle and raised hackles. Thousands of them stood ready—matching the Great Army in number—with massive shoulders, thick necks, and sharpened claws.
They weren't organized in standard military ranks.
Yet, it wasn't chaotic; it was calculated.
Every individual was positioned with the cold intent of slaughter.
A chorus of snarls filled the air, a grating promise of impending carnage. Fangs capable of crushing stone shimmered wetly under the eerie light. Predatory eyes of various colors burned with a focused intelligence, narrowed on blood and violence. Every chest heaved with hot, ragged breath.
A collective fury rose like heat into the freezing air.
A quick assessment revealed at least thirty-five Alpha Primes within their ranks.
This was a daunting figure compared to the twenty-seven Alpha Primes serving the Great Army.
Surprisingly, the enemy was not composed solely of werewolves.
Evelyn scanned the flanks, noticing several collared, wolf-like beasts.
Each creature possessed three heads, each with its own distinct personality, three chaotic tails, and a single horn resembling a unicorn's atop every head. Their auras suggested they were all within the eighth-rank realm.
These were formidable war beasts, and there were at least a hundred of them present.
"I can't believe there are a hundred Haitis," Fenrik whispered, his voice tinged with shock as he observed the three-headed wolves. "I assumed they went extinct after the great war. To see so many still alive..."
"What exactly are those?" Evelyn asked, turning her gaze toward them.
She was unfamiliar with these creatures, though the elder werewolves clearly recognized them.
"They are biological experiments, bred specifically as instruments of war," Fenrik clarified. "As their strange anatomy suggests, each one has three lives. Every time they die, their primary body gains strength. As for the red ones... they share a physical link with a group of black Haitis. Every time a black one falls, its power is funneled into the red one, making it exponentially more powerful."
Hearing about their traits caused Evelyn to scowl.
Never in her life had she encountered such monsters.
There had been no records of their continued existence, as most recent wars were fought by werewolves alone. It seemed that in this final stand, the enemy was revealing every hidden trump card.
Evelyn realized she had to be ready for any anomaly.
"And what about those?" she inquired further.
Beside the wolves were strange birds that appeared to be ravens. These were even rarer than the Haitis; only a few werewolves, specifically those closest to the Alpha Primes, had them. The birds sat like jagged, living ornaments on their shoulders, their beaks as sharp as needles.
"How is this possible...?" Valkis’s eyes widened in disbelief. "Those are Danger Blood Ravens!"
"Keep your voice down..." Evelyn commanded sharply.
She sought information, but she didn't want the enemy to realize they were shaken.
"My apologies," Valkis said, shaking his head to regain his focus. "Danger Blood Ravens are an ancient mutation, but they are... unique. They lack the standard werewolf senses. Instead, they have a profound sixth sense and incredible speed, which is why ancient werewolves used them in combat."
"A sixth sense...?" Evelyn muttered, her brow furrowed.
Even without knowing the specifics, it sounded like a major complication.
"Furthermore, they consume blood and convert it into a powerful venom. When they inject it into a werewolf, it can double or triple their physical strength," Valkis continued, his teeth clenched in frustration at Princess Selene's hidden reserves. "They are creatures that exploit our natural regeneration."
Discovering these ravens was once considered a gift from the Lunirich Gods for ancient werewolves. It was a mutated species perfectly suited for their kind.
Because werewolves could survive extreme trauma, they could also withstand the raven's lethal venom. Other species would be paralyzed or killed instantly, but a werewolf’s body could use the toxin for a massive physical surge—essentially a drug that removed the mental limiters guarding their strength.
They were essential tools during the ancient wars against vampires and demons.
Crash—!
A figure slammed into the ground directly in front of Adhara.
Smoke obscured the newcomer, but Adhara could sense their overwhelming power from the silhouette alone. The figure was massive, standing at least eight feet tall.
Grr...
Through the haze, the only visible features were the Wolf Moon King Mark and a pair of glowing orange, predatory eyes. Even when facing the Anti-Werewolf, the figure showed no hint of fear or intimidation.
Adhara studied the silhouette and tilted her head slightly.
She let out a growl, daring the opponent to move.
Swoosh—!
The werewolf lunged from the smoke the moment she growled.
Adhara saw only a streak of shadow, but she refused to be intimidated by a common werewolf. She moved with predatory grace, her body seemingly phasing through reality as the enemy’s claws passed harmlessly through the air where her head had been moments before.
The startled werewolf spun around, only to meet Adhara’s radiating white eyes.
A surge of white energy blasted forward.
No werewolf could withstand direct contact with her energy, particularly now that her Cultivation had advanced.
'This is it!'
Swish—!
Refusing to give them a moment to recover, Adhara moved like a white specter—the harbinger of doom for all werewolves. She dove inside the reach of the werewolf’s swing, keeping her claws low before driving them deep into its ribcage.
However, her claws were intercepted mid-strike by the werewolf’s bare hand.
Adhara’s eyes widened.
She saw the werewolf’s palm burning and sizzling where it touched her claws, yet its regeneration was unnaturally fast. The flesh healed almost as quickly as it was destroyed, preventing the damage from spreading beyond the fingers.
For the first time, Adhara was genuinely shocked.
Usually, werewolves crumbled under her power. But this mysterious opponent possessed a terrifying level of regeneration.
Ignoring her surprise for the sake of the battle, Adhara grabbed the creature's arm and scrambled up its chest like a beast. She slammed her heels into its sternum and pushed off with a powerful backflip. Despite the werewolf's body being as dense as stone, the impact forced it back several paces.
Landing in a crouch, she immediately lunged forward again.
She bridged the gap before the enemy could reset.
Slash—!
Her strike bypassed its guard and tore into its torso, shoving it ten steps back toward its own lines. Deep, bleeding claw marks were now visible across its chest.
"Aggressive. Fast." The werewolf spoke in a raspy, gravelly voice that sounded as though it had been worn away by thousands of years. "Your fury is evident in every blow, child. It is a shame... the white ghost has cursed you."
Adhara stood tall, staring at the werewolf in muted disbelief.
She had never seen a werewolf of this kind. Before her stood an incredibly ancient being that looked distinct from any other of its race.
Its body was covered in flowing, ash-silver fur that billowed like smoke. A massive, long tail followed behind it, dissolving into wisps of moonlight energy that vanished and reappeared with every motion, giving it a ghostly appearance.
Its mane was as thick and wild as a lion's.
The creature's limbs were longer than average, providing it with an incredible reach. Dark, curved claws dug into the earth, while numerous scars covered its arms and chest—the marks of a veteran monster that lived only for war. The mere presence of this werewolf exerted a heavy pressure on the Great Army.
Adhara could feel the weight of it. She frowned as she watched the wounds she had just inflicted heal with the sound of crackling embers.
"Ah, hell..." Mavok swore, his expression darkening. "It’s Laynkard."
"Laynkard?!" Valkis’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. "From the Night’s Triarchy?!"
He stared at the werewolf facing Adhara with absolute terror.
"Who?" Fenrik asked, unfamiliar with the name. "Who is Laynkard?"
"An ancient werewolf who served as the protector of the Blood Moon Prince," Valkis replied, his face pale with dread. "He is a first-generation werewolf and a member of the Night’s Triarchy—a trio of royal guardians."
"The Night’s Triarchy?"
"They are a specialized group of three tasked with guarding the Blood Moon Prince. Because of the Prince's legendary instability, members were frequently killed by their own master and replaced. But through the ages, Laynkard survived."
Valkis trembled as he recounted the legend.
"He managed to restrain the Blood Moon Prince while protecting him at the same time. This monster has killed a Vampire Duke, hunted five high-ranking Death Knights alone, and fought an Archdemon empowered by a Sin to a draw..."
Hearing this, Evelyn looked back at the Great Army. She observed the Alpha Primes and saw that many shared Valkis's terror. Only those who didn't know the history seemed unaffected.
But for those who knew... the fear was unmistakable.
"Stay calm," Evelyn said, clasping her hands gracefully. "Adhara will deal with him."