The Invincible Full-Moon System Chapter 1844: Protect the Silverstars (2)

Sven stands as the illegitimate offspring of the origin.

Despite being direct lineage of the origin, the rest of the werewolves regarded him in a distinct manner.

As if he were a pariah.

No Silverstar grasped the precise cause behind it, yet one certainty lingered: Sven despised the origin and likely harbored resentment toward fellow werewolves due to that resentment. His animosity was evident, shining brightly for everyone to witness.

Yet, he remains a werewolf at his core.

He has no desire to witness his own kind massacred en masse.

Had he wished otherwise, he wouldn't have secluded himself from the pack and resided beyond the borders of the Scarlet Banes Kingdom. If that were his intent, he could have effortlessly devastated the whole realm and instilled terror in its inhabitants.

But he refrained from such actions.

ROAR—!

Sven hurtled across the heavens at astonishing velocity.

Though his build was enormous, slowness was not his trait.

Actually, his pace could rival that of Princess Selene, surpassing other royals in swiftness.

Sven collided with the frontier and instantly plunged into a ferocious melee with multiple Godlings. He operated like a relentless slayer, slicing through bodies with his extraordinarily keen talons, drenching in the gushing gore, and intensifying his fury with every injury inflicted upon him.

However, the Godlings proved formidable adversaries.

One slashed across Sven's visage, hurling him back several paces. Then, it dissolved into a crimson haze—and materialized behind him before his third stride, slashing once more and spraying blood aloft like a gushing geyser.

Another seized Sven's tail, hoisted him aloft, and smashed him downward onto the terrain.

A whole escarpment disintegrated from the savage collision, with the shockwave rippling outward like brutal thunder across the soil, forging profound, writhing cracks. Sven plunged straight through the ground and tumbled into a shadowy grotto hundreds of meters beneath.

He regained his footing remarkably swiftly and sprang toward the roof, evading three assaults entirely.

Flashes of illumination pierced the gloom as he confronted a dozen Godlings head-on.

A barrage of clashes unfolded in a flash. Talon versus talon ignited sparks. Agonized snarls and the sinister splatter of blood resounded within the enclosure. Every Godling possessed might that could match the world's monarchs and matriarchs.

Limited by the planet's vital force.

Nevertheless, Sven overpowered them decisively.

He battled a dozen and held the clear advantage.

Crash—!

Four Godlings were hurled against the barrier.

Sven parried another strike, thrust his talons into a Godling's abdomen with ruthless accuracy, and yanked out its entrails. He absorbed two blows to his flank and arm, despite ample opportunity to evade, then seized the aggressor by the cranium.

He embedded one Godling's countenance into the barrier and another's into the base, then savagely hauled them along the cavern's length.

As if discarding refuse, he flung one aside and gnawed the other's cranium.

Eerie snaps of bone reverberated as his robust, pointed teeth pulverized the skull.

Swoosh—!

Simultaneously, three sanguine vapors rushed him from multiple angles.

Sven's gaze sparkled with immense lunar essence, and with a bellow, he released a surge that repelled them all and lodged them into the far walls. From beneath, a Godling rose and skewered him via its chest with its sword-like limb.

Both pierced the overhead and resurfaced above ground.

All eyes shifted back to him.

The brutal confrontation between Sven and the Godlings mesmerized everyone.

Sven embodies the purest essence of a werewolf. He employs no ornate techniques. He avoids evading assaults. Merely unbridled might, rage, teeth, and talons. For the other werewolves, this spectacle was utterly captivating.

Wild vitality swirled about him, and his form responded in kind.

Sven already deviated from typical werewolves. He loomed larger, furred in white, and seemed incapable of articulate speech. But the divergence ran deeper. The very core of his being differed profoundly.

Fury and loathing not only amplified his power like in standard werewolves.

They also reshaped his physique into a more savage iteration.

In the gaze of onlookers, Sven's form expanded, ballooned, morphed in unnatural ways. It began with his heated exhalation morphing into vapor. His ears stretched, ends trailing wisps of fume and pale flame.

At his rear, his tail bulked into a sinewy mass. Resembling a colossal serpent.

An aberrant metamorphosis, his presence tripled instantaneously.

He personifies the werewolf ideal, driven to utmost limits.

His adaptability stood unparalleled, thanks to the evolving shape.

Sensing the constriction around its sword limb, the Godling showed astonishment. It attempted to revert to sanguine vapor for escape, but the vitality encasing Sven's frame prevented it. The vitality maintained its solidity. Held it captive.

Sven drove his knee upward into the Godling's sword limb from below, fracturing it in twain.

Next, he gripped his paws and pounded the Godling downward, propelling it earthward.

CRASH—!

Structures, foliage, and soil fragmented on collision.

Sven's frame abruptly gained weight as he descended to the dirt like a plummeting weight.

He gripped the Godling's neck and hoisted it from the earth like a lump of flesh. It writhed, yet struggled to match Sven's enhanced might in this altered state. Fixing his stare on the quarry, serene as nature's eternal wheel, he plunged his talons into the Godling's torso and rent it asunder.

A savage rumble escaped his maw as he slew the Godling.

Even confronting divine entities' offspring, he remained true to his innate conduct.

His werewolf spirit steadfastly endured.

Sven by himself diverted a third of the Godlings' focus.

"Adhara... Have you successfully delayed him and Laykard?" Evelyn inquired breathlessly.

"Don't attribute too much to me," she replied with a sharp grin. "I believe he's restraining himself considerably against me."

Sven wasn't this formidable during her duel with him.

It was obvious Sven didn't regard her as a foe, for if he had, Adhara wouldn't have survived.

Aoouuu—!

Both turned toward the vacant flanks and observed the leftover Godlings advancing. They lunged. A trot initially, then crouched low as they surged into a thunderous charge directly at Evelyn and the allies.

Kaiser summoned carnage and demise, and they aimed to fulfill it.

"Blood for the Blood Garland!!"

A resounding cry pierced the atmosphere, sending icy dread into hearts.

Confronting the southeast stood Laykard and Mavok, while against the southwest were Valkis and Fenrik.

Trailing them, the Alpha Primes advanced as werewolves bayed and snarled. Though some had been foes mere moments ago, they aligned side by side in solidarity to carve a defensive breach safeguarding the vital leaders.

Even at the price of their existence.

Adhara and Gistella shared a knowing glance.

They would spearhead the defiance against the approaching Godlings.

Until Rex's return, resistance must persist.

Adhara joined Valkis and Fenrik, whereas Gistella headed to Laykard and Mavok to foster synergy.

Princess Selene served as the pivotal commander, repelling Godlings that breached the lines—with Evelyn positioned immediately behind. She bore the duty to shield this force's core. So long as Evelyn endured, spirits would endure.

"Sintra!"

Miriam ascended into the air.

Her whole form radiated a lustrous argent glow.

Even her eyes had altered—resembling luminous orbs akin to paired full moons. A Shama frequently tipped the scales in conflicts—such as this. With two Shamans in their ranks, they refused to let the forces engage Godlings unfavorably.

'Here goes nothing...'

Sintra directed a digit at the ominous Blood Moon overhead.

Her fingertip shimmered with a silvery ethereal orb, which she employed to etch the full moon upon her brow. It vibrated briefly before solidifying. Then, she extended her arms and directed every bit of her vitality toward Miriam.

Swish—!

"Rrrghk!"

A groan slipped from Miriam’s mouth as vitality surged through her.

It seemed her form teetered on the verge of rupture.

Yet Miriam's expertise and mastery prevented capitulation. She directed the amassed vitality into her limbs and psyche in one fluid action—then dove earthward, palms crashing into the soil. "Twin War Spell: Sacred Hunting Ground of Kings!"

SWOOSH—!

Argent radiance burst from Miriam’s palms and engulfed the valley swiftly.

Its intense gleam blinded the area momentarily.

When it faded, the footing had transformed into crystalline glass, sheer and radiant, revealing myriad argent vitality threads throbbing underneath. Next, the vitality ascended like haze, attracted to the stunned, stationary werewolves.

Gradually, the vitality locked onto each—ascending limbs, encircling bodies, and ultimately resting on brows.

Not even the frailest Delta escaped as the radiance inscribed its emblem into flesh.

A Full Moon. Vivid argent. Almost mirroring a King Mark.

And akin to bearing a King Mark, their presences expanded. Strength inundated their frames that had seldom felt it. Sintra’s boon flowed through every wolf, from the basest to the elite.

Even non-werewolves gained fortitude from this War Spell.

Adhara eyed the newfound vigor within her and shook her head in awe, "Such a potent incantation."

Yet the War Spell extended further.

From every emblem emerged the bond.

It struck simultaneously—an awareness lingering at each consciousness's rear and a cadence throbbing beneath every sternum. A mystical, mental tether united them. Myriad hearts beat—as one. Myriad thoughts assimilated data like a collective intellect. Myriad perceptions registered concurrently.

A collective fusion.

Now, they shared a singular resolve.

Now, they pursued a common goal.

Defend the Silverstars.

And with primal determination in their psyches and a voracious snarl in their throats, the forces surged forward.

Miriam reeled back as the earth quaked beneath the tread of thousands. Dizziness now gripped her, balance elusive. But as her frame leaned rearward on the cusp of collapse, strong arms steadied her from behind.

It was Princess Selene.

"You’ve forever been the key to our race’s victories in countless clashes," she commended with a grin.

Miriam echoed the grin, though faintly. The war spell had drained her utterly, "I pray this day joins those triumphs."

Rearward, Evelyn also touched Sintra’s shoulder.

Like Miriam, her vitality waned, and she heaved labored breaths now.

"Well done,"

"It falls short still. Had I foreseen this, I would have..."

"Cease worrying over impossibilities. No one anticipated clashing with Gods and their Godlings in this fashion. Recover and restore your vitality," Evelyn gradually lifted her gaze, staring at the pair of celestial entities observing from the heights.

She locked eyes with Meloriana, who regarded her with a playful smirk.

Kaiser also glanced her way, his expression devoid of sentiment.

Solely the visage of an unyielding obelisk, impervious to any event.

"I sense we’ll require your strength once more," Evelyn appended—chest constricting at the looming prospects. "I suspect those two won’t cease here."