The Invincible Full-Moon System Chapter 1787: Total Anarchy

Arrows forged of pure energy, each as large as a grown man, cascaded from the heavens to hammer the rebellion’s ranks.

Feral growls were answered by an even more savage roar.

A cocktail of saliva, perspiration, and gore erupted upward like a fountain’s spray. Some of it vanished into the searing air, vaporized by mana-charged heat, while the rest plummeted back to the soil, soaking the earth beneath the combatants' feet. It was a chaotic free-for-all.

Anarchy reigned as both factions collided.

Lives, nature’s most precious gift that ought to be cherished, were stripped of all value.

The reach of death extended into every corner, harvesting a multitude of souls with every passing second of intensity.

The moonlight illuminated the battlefield as brilliant spells were cast, painting the dark carnage in a spectrum of vibrant colors. The only sounds that dominated the air were the cacophony of war cries, the whimpers of the wounded, and the shrieks of the grieving.

From the earth, a magnificent surge of power rose on one side, fueled by a War Spell.

This magic utilized the moonlight and the stolen essence of life from spilled blood to fortify their physical forms.

Conversely, the opposing side bore glowing marks of power branded into their flesh, which flooded their systems with adrenaline and energy. While this transformation induced a feral and aggressive state, such madness became a vital asset in a desperate struggle for survival.

The Great Army maintained the upper hand at the center of the fray.

In the direct confrontation between werewolves, the Great Army proved to be superior.

Morale reached its zenith as the troops watched Adhara effortlessly dismantle the enemy’s commander, and the Luna’s presence solidified their resolve to press the attack. They were determined that if their momentum was halted or if the enemy found success, they would drag at least two foes down to the grave with them.

However, the triumph at the center failed to reach the edges of the conflict.

The Great Army’s forces were being pushed into a retreat on the flanks.

In the skirmishes where werewolves faced off against lesser supernatural beings, the rebellion held the advantage.

The prestige of being a high-ranking race was not merely for show.

There was a clear reason why werewolves were respected by other elite races, and that power was now on full display.

Growl—!

A Beta lunged toward a group consisting of three Orcs and two Tigermen, hacking them into bloody remnants. He waded through the mist of blood, savoring the metallic aroma and the lingering warmth. Snatching a large piece of a victim in his jaws, he began to chew.

He looked up, expecting to see terror, but was met instead by gazes full of defiance.

Despite witnessing him slaughter five of their own with ease, the remaining soldiers showed no fear.

Their expressions only grew more resolute as they renewed their charge.

The Beta fought against the swarming numbers, his teeth snapping and claws slashing in a frenzy until his fur was matted with their gore. A twisted, manic grin stretched across his snout. He executed a Dwarf by tearing the head clean from the shoulders.

Two more fell to his wrath—a Tigerman and an Orc.

He disemboweled them with his claws before seizing their heads and crushing their skulls together.

He was certain that the eyes watching him would finally fill with dread.

They did not.

His manic expression faded when he looked up to find those same fearless stares fixed upon him.

The slaughter of their comrades had failed to shake their iron will.

Attempting to force a path through the melee to find his pack, the Beta was suddenly blindsided by a warhammer. His body skidded across the dirt for several meters. Gasping for air, he caught the familiar scent of his kin.

With a flicker of hope, he lifted his head in excitement.

But he did not find a reunion.

He found a massacre.

At the center of the carnage, his Alpha was fighting for his life.

He was being overwhelmed by a coordinated assault from seven soldiers simultaneously.

Though every strike he landed took a life, the distraction allowed an arrow to bypass his guard. His hand reached toward the shaft embedded in his forehead, but his strength failed, and his body collapsed before he could touch it.

'W-What is happening...?' The Beta’s eyes widened in shock. Brutally and effortlessly killing the enemy was supposed to break their spirits and make the Cultivation of victory easier. Yet, none of them were moved. 'How is this possible?'

Scrambling to his feet, the Beta parried a swinging club, his mind still reeling with confusion.

As if his instincts were guiding him toward the truth, he turned his gaze toward the far end of the enemy lines.

Standing at the very rear was an empress of the storm.

Evelyn stood motionless, her silent rage manifesting as a piercing glare directed at Princess Selene.

Even at this distance, the intensity of her fury radiated across every inch of the battlefield.

'She... She is the cause. Every one of them is driven to madness for her!'

Beside the corpse of his Alpha, the five soldiers turned their attention elsewhere.

They were hunting for their next target.

As if they could smell the growing fear in the Beta’s heart, the five warriors locked onto him.

Without a moment's pause, they pounced in perfect, predatory unison.

Swoosh—!

Snapping back to reality, the Beta kicked the Orc in front of him and severed its arm with a single swipe.

A Tigerman’s fist, bolstered by energy, shot through the air like a projectile, shattering the Beta's ribs with the impact of a seventh-rank realm power. The Beta retaliated by sinking his fangs into the Tigerman’s shoulder, ripping away a chunk of flesh in a spray of red.

Blinded by fury, the Tigerman was hardly slowed by the wound.

A knee drove upward from the dirt, slamming into the Beta's chin and momentarily blurring his vision.

His eyes snapped back into focus as he grabbed the Tigerman’s head, crushing it like a ripe melon.

Suddenly, a rising pillar of stone launched him into the air.

A warhammer glowing with frost descended, knocking him off the stone column and twisting his arm behind his back. His regeneration struggled to keep pace as he snatched an arrow aimed at his skull and hurled it back at the archer.

The projectile hit nothing but empty air.

Brak—!

The Beta hit the ground hard.

Before he could draw a single breath, he felt a shadow loom over him.

A figure hoisted him up by the shoulders and delivered a brutal headbutt that cracked his skull.

It was the Orc he had previously disarmed.

Despite being clearly outmatched—his arm having been easily taken—the Orc snarled through the agony. His remaining arm locked around the Beta’s waist, hoisting him up just as a Tigerman vaulted over them, executing a spinning aerial kick.

The powerful strike connected with the Beta’s throat, shattering his windpipe.

Choking, he was sent tumbling a dozen meters away.

An Elf stood over him for a brief second before a metal-shod boot descended, crushing the Beta's skull into pulp.

While the rebellion’s forces were technically more powerful on average—with their upper-echelon reaching the mid seventh-rank realm and their Haitis and Danger Blood Ravens making them lethal hunters—their collective spirit was visibly crumbling.

Their morale was draining away faster than blood from a wound.

Gradually, their numbers were becoming a disadvantage, even though one of them could typically slay two or three opponents.

The unwavering, steady gazes of the Great Army’s soldiers were deeply unsettling to them.

It didn't take long for the momentum to swing back in favor of the Great Army.

Many werewolves fell because they became distracted, feeling as though they were being isolated and hunted.

It seemed the battle would reach its end shortly.

However, Evelyn had no intention of allowing this conflict to drag on.

Scanning the field, she saw things playing out as she had foreseen—the Great Army would struggle initially but eventually overcome their foes. Now that the enemy’s spirit was flagging, she decided to crush it entirely.

"Rex," Evelyn said, glancing over her shoulder. "Would you be so kind...?"

As that name was uttered, a figure stepped out from the darkness behind the Great Army’s lines.

Swoosh—!

A magnificent crimson aura erupted toward the sky, staining the clouds a deep, bloody red.

Nearly every combatant on the enemy side looked up, their attention captured by the sudden display. Their eyes were drawn to the rear of the Great Army, where a single figure moved through the ranks to stand behind Evelyn.

Blood.

The scent of blood clinging to this individual was overwhelming.

The aura, saturated with the heavy weight of the Blood Moon, identified him clearly as a werewolf.

But the most striking features were the curved horns atop his head, which throbbed with a dark red light. Coupled with the eclipsing King Mark glowing on his brow—a symbol pulsing with the combined power of the Blood Moon and the Banished Dark Moon—his identity was certain.

Rex—the Royal Black Prince—had joined the field.

Swoosh—!

The moment Rex appeared, a freezing wind blew across the field like a deathly omen.

Though not every werewolf had seen Rex in person, his reputation and terrifying appearance were known to all. His arrival in such a grand fashion left the rebellion forces in a state of paralyzed shock.

Gazing at Rex was like staring into the eyes of death itself.

A warrior capable of slaying an Executor and dominating royal werewolves possessed strength beyond their comprehension. Against such a titan, what hope did they have?

They felt there was nothing left to do but wait for the end of their lives.

Evelyn nodded slightly as she observed the reaction.

'His name alone carries such weight,' she thought with grim pleasure, seeing the terror in her enemies' eyes. She once again appreciated Rex’s foresight in leaving a clone. 'The clone possesses only a fraction of his true power, but its mere presence is enough to shift the scales of this entire war in our favor.'

"Hold your positions and attack!"

Suddenly, a voice pierced through the sounds of combat, catching Evelyn’s attention.

It belonged to an Alpha Prime, a werewolf possessing one of the most potent auras among the rebels.

Evelyn’s brow furrowed at his words.

"He is a fake!! There is no reason to fear him! Follow me and charge!"

'How...?' Evelyn’s eyes went wide with shock.

Since the truth about Rex’s absence was known only to the Silverstar Pack, no one should have been able to identify the clone, especially not a member of the enemy forces.

Yet this Alpha Prime spoke with absolute conviction, as if he knew for certain it was a decoy.

A feeling of dread began to settle in Evelyn’s chest.

'No one in the Silverstar Pack would betray us; I trust them completely. Have we been compromised? Did someone from Princess Selene’s side infiltrate us to test the clone?' she wondered, baffled by the turn of events. 'No, Rex has been at my side the whole time. How could they know?'

Realizing the situation had changed, Evelyn grit her teeth and launched herself into the air.

Swoosh—!

Carried by her crimson flames, she soared across the battlefield, making a direct line for Princess Selene.

"Gistella!"

In the center of the fight, Gistella crushed the heads of two werewolves with her energy.

She used her Black Heart to consume whatever remained and prepared to continue her rampage.

However, the shout caused her to stop instantly.

Looking up, Gistella saw Evelyn flying toward the balcony where Princess Selene was stationed.

"Is she being serious?" she whispered to herself.

Despite her doubt, she jumped as high as she could just as a group of werewolves tried to lunge at her.

Using her energy to propel herself through the air, she moved to follow Evelyn.

Adhara was more than capable of managing the main front, so Gistella saw no reason to remain behind.

"It’s the empress!!"

A werewolf pointed toward the sky at Evelyn, his eyes burning with murderous intent.

Since the empress had abandoned the safety of the rear, they saw a perfect opportunity to kill her and end the war in a single stroke.

But the Great Army would not let that happen easily.

"Protect the empress!"