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

Miriam of the Moonbringer.

For a millennium, she has remained a steadfast servant to the royal lineage. Her legendary accomplishment—guarding the Honey Moon Princess against the lethal reach of the Undead and the ravenous hunger of the Vampires—earned her an ascent into the prestigious Night’s Triarchy.

This exclusive title represents the pinnacle of achievement for those sworn to protect the royal blood.

Two centuries have rolled by since that elevation.

Throughout those years, she experienced the full spectrum of existence: honor and acclaim, alongside agony and grief.

She welcomed every accolade with gratitude. Every task, regardless of its difficulty, was met with even greater resolve.

She stands as the ultimate shield for the royal family.

Whatever the princes or princesses desired, she fulfilled without a moment's pause.

Now, a new directive has been issued.

Princess Selene of the Honey Moon finds herself in peril, hunted by treacherous werewolves who have abandoned their heritage. She commanded Miriam to manifest a potent wide-area spell capable of plunging the hostile forces into a deep slumber.

This wide-area spell is a delaying tactic, meant to hold the line until the Blood Moon rises.

The opposition is reinforced by Sintra, a Shaman renowned for her intricate mystical expertise.

Is Sintra a formidable foe? Indeed. Is she more powerful than Miriam? No.

Only a handful of Shamans possess greater strength than her, and Sintra is not among those few.

Miriam prepared herself.

A mere week stood between the assignment of the task and the anticipated confrontation.

While such a pressing deadline would be daunting for most, she would never decline; such is her solemn oath as a guardian.

The cramped, private chamber has been transformed into a hub of shimmering moon runes. Each symbol was meticulously carved by her own hand to guarantee absolute precision. Eight primary runes, significantly larger than the surrounding script, adorned the walls—their luminescence thumping in rhythm with the moon stones she had strategically positioned throughout the canyon.

Both she and the incantation were prepared.

The moment Princess Selene gave the signal, Miriam intended to place a single drop of blood at the focal point.

This action would trigger the magic, inducing sleep in everyone within the canyon’s depths, herself included.

The enchantment would only dissolve upon the arrival of the Full Moon.

Furthermore, should Princess Selene have a change of heart, she only needed to spill a drop of her own blood onto a secondary, dormant array located in the canyon’s outer perimeter—a straightforward, intentional act just a short distance away, far from the primary nexus.

That single drop would instantly dismantle the entire spellwork.

Though she doubted it would be necessary, she established the backup array to account for the unpredictable.

Sure enough, a telepathic instruction finally arrived.

It had seemed like a distant possibility, yet she had accounted for the unexpected. Eventually, the command she had anticipated manifested as a sharp thought in her mind.

The voice of Princess Selene resonated through the telepathic link.

"Kill the spell."

The order was crisp and blunt, matching the efficient manner in which Miriam preferred to operate.

She felt no regret for the countless hours spent agonizing over the rune carvings for this magic. Her purpose was service. Had Princess Selene requested this merely for amusement, she would have obeyed without protest. However, beneath her stoic exterior, she felt a lingering reluctance to use such magic against her own kind.

Regardless of their status as traitors.

Moon spells were intended to safeguard werewolves and strike down their foes.

Utilizing them in this fashion felt like a transgression.

But that concern was now moot.

Miriam turned toward the secondary array, using her claws to slice into her fingertip.

She extended her hand, allowing a crimson droplet to fall.

Tick...

As if trapped in a warped hallucination, her surroundings suddenly turned into a blur.

Miriam blinked violently, struggling to regain her clarity.

When the haze finally lifted, a chilling realization struck her.

She was not positioned at the outer ring of the room.

She was not standing before the cancellation array.

Instead, she found herself at the very heart of the nexus.

Her blood had already struck the center, igniting the chamber with a surge of moonlight Qi.

"What?! How did I—?!" Miriam’s voice cracked with shock. She whirled around, her eyes darting across the room in a state of panic. All around her, the moonlight Qi was already weaving into the spell's foundation; it was too late to abort.

She collapsed to her knees, her fingers digging into the dirt floor.

Only one path remained.

She had to locate the nexus core and shatter it through sheer force.

Naturally, forcibly terminating the spell would trigger a catastrophic backlash against her.

It was one of the spell's built-in defenses.

Yet, that was a small price to pay compared to failing a direct order.

Deg—!

Suddenly, her strength gave out as the blurred vision returned, accompanied by a crushing migraine. While her devotion kept her from passing out immediately, remaining conscious was not the same as being capable of action.

A primal fury began to stir from the core of her being.

It was the rage inherent to any werewolf who has been triggered by force.

She slumped over weakly, her claws still straining toward the nexus core.

As the darkness claimed her, a whisper escaped her lips.

"Blood Moon..."

...

Swoosh—!

"What do you mean she’s not answering?!" Evelyn’s voice grew sharp as she watched the pillars rise, forming a geometric cage that severed the canyon's connection to the external world.

"I don’t understand..." Princess Selene whispered, her face turning pale. "She isn't responding to me."

"Just as I thought, your acceptance of the peace treaty was a lie," Gistella spat, her eyes narrowing. She had distrusted the princess from the start, and now her suspicions felt confirmed. "You’re just buying time to trap us, aren't you?"

"I’ve discarded my dignity for this, and you dare accuse me?!" Princess Selene shouted in frustration. Gesturing to her own bewildered expression, she added, "Does this look like I’ve won?"

"Stop this, both of you," Evelyn barked. "We have to find a way to end this. Where is Miriam?"

"It’s too late for that." Princess Selene clenched her teeth.

Before Evelyn could demand an explanation, the cage erupted with a brilliant, almost solid light. The blinding white radiance forced them to shield their faces with their arms.

When they could finally see again, they were met with a soft, silver rain.

It wasn't liquid, but a shimmering dust that fell like pulverized moonlight, emitting a scent that was intoxicatingly sweet—reminiscent of a night-blooming flower at its peak.

Following the aroma came a fatigue so heavy it felt like an absolute decree.

A warm, suffocating drowsiness washed over them, slowing their thoughts and weighing down their bodies.

Gistella lost her balance, stumbling against the railing.

Princess Selene, suffering the same effect, reached out blindly for support.

Evelyn scowled, tossing her head to shake off the lethargy.

The voice of the Great Luna roared in her mind, pleading with her to stay awake and find a solution. To sleep now would mean waking under the influence of the Blood Moon. By then, diplomacy would be impossible.

Every werewolf would be consumed by primal rage.

While a few might resist, the majority would succumb to insanity.

With heavy eyelids, Evelyn peered over the balcony. The battlefield had fallen silent; every combatant, friend and foe alike, lay slumped in a magical trance. She forced her head to turn with immense effort.

Gistella and Princess Selene were nearby, both unconscious.

Guided by instinct, she looked up at the sky.

The waxing gibbous moon hung there, resembling a bloated, crimson eye.

In her fading state, it felt as though it was staring directly at her with a cold, malicious intent.

But the thought vanished before it could take root.

Her muscles went limp, and she slid down to the stone tiles, her back resting against the cold metal of the railing.

ROAR—!

Even as her world turned to black, a thunderous roar echoed from the field below.

It was Sven.

He appeared to be the only one resistant, or perhaps, the one with the strongest will.

'Perhaps he can—'

The thought died unfinished, and her remaining willpower dissolved into the silent void.

...

Noctem Vale.

The primary estate of House Ravencort.

"Raagghk!"

A violent swing of an arm sent perfume bottles, brushes, and a heavy silver mirror flying to the floor.

Everything shattered into pieces.

A noblewoman stood amidst the debris, her chest heaving with ragged breaths. Her hair, usually pinned in perfect order even in the dead of night, cascaded wildly around her shoulders. Strands were plastered to her sweaty temples and tangled in her frantic fingers.

Each breath she took was a sharp rasp in the sudden silence.

She jerked to the side.

Her hands, typically poised and elegant, balled into fists before striking out again, toppling a violet vase. When nothing else remained to break, she began to claw at the silk-covered walls with desperate, frantic movements.

It was as if she were trying to escape her own flesh, the room, and her isolation all at once.

She moved with the uncoordinated desperation of a cornered animal.

Gouges marked the walls, the bedding was shredded, and the furniture lay in splinters.

Now, the noblewoman was scratching at the enchanted floorboards.

Her nails didn't just break from the friction; they were being pushed out by thicker, sharper claws emerging from her fingertips. Blood stained the wood as she continued. The pain was evident on her face, yet she did not stop.

Suddenly, she froze.

Aoouuu—!

A howl drifted in from the distance.

She snapped her head up, her eyes finding the window through the mess of her hair.

Downstairs, the chaos in her room remained unheard.

A man in a butler’s attire sat at a wooden desk in his private office. It was past midnight. Since the maids and staff had already retired to their quarters, his duties for the day were finished.

He was unwinding, immersed in a book he had recently acquired.

However, his reading was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Enter."

The door creaked open, and a servant stepped inside with an apologetic look.

He was well aware that the head butler preferred not to be bothered at this hour.

But the situation was pressing.

"A letter has arrived from Princess Davina," the servant explained, placing the envelope on the desk. "I felt I shouldn't be the one to open it. I don't recognize the recipient's name either."

"Omen Chick?" The head butler glanced at the name with a bored expression. "This is intended for Lady Mira."

Without wasting a second, he sliced the envelope open and scanned the contents.

The servant winced, knowing Lady Mira should have been the one to unseal it, but he kept his mouth shut.

"Dear Lady Mira, I hope this message finds you well," the head butler recited. "I must request your immediate presence. A matter of extreme importance has surfaced within the empire, involving the Empress and Lord Rex. I am aware of your... connection to the latter.

"Travel to Rontera with the utmost secrecy. A contact will be waiting to bring you to me.

"Time is running out."

Finishing the letter, the head butler stood abruptly and bolted from the room.

He hurried through the grand corridors and up the stairs toward Lady Mira’s chambers.

He knocked urgently.

"Lady Mira."