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 bloodline. Her legendary feat—shielding the Honey Moon Princess from the lethal clutches of the Undead and the insatiable hunger of the Vampires—earned her a prestigious seat within the Night’s Triarchy.

This exclusive rank stands as the pinnacle of achievement for those sworn to protect the royal lineage.

Two centuries have rolled by since her elevation.

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

She accepted every accolade with gratitude. Every task, regardless of its difficulty, was met with unwavering devotion.

She is the ultimate shield of the royal family.

Whatever the princes or princesses required, 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 traitorous werewolves who have abandoned their heritage. Her command was clear: manifest a potent wide-area spell capable of plunging the entire enemy force into a deep slumber.

A tactical diversion to hold the line until the Blood Moon rises.

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

Is Sintra a formidable foe? Indeed. But is she superior to Miriam? She is not.

Across the lands, only a handful of Shamans possess power exceeding Miriam’s, and Sintra is not among that elite circle.

Miriam was prepared.

Only a single week stood between the assignment of the task and the anticipated confrontation.

While such a rapid request would be daunting for most, she would never decline; such is her solemn vow as a guardian.

At this moment, the cramped, private room has been transformed into a hub of shimmering moon runes. Each symbol was meticulously carved by her own hand to ensure perfect, steady execution. Eight primary runes, significantly larger than the others, adorned the walls—their luminescence throbbing in harmony with the moon stones she had strategically positioned throughout the canyon.

Both she and the incantation are ready.

The moment Princess Selene gives the signal, Miriam will offer a drop of blood at the focal point.

This act will trigger the magic, casting everyone within the canyon—herself included—into a magical sleep.

The enchantment is designed to break only when the Full Moon reaches its zenith.

Furthermore, should Princess Selene have a change of heart, she need only provide a drop of her own blood to a secondary, dormant array located in the canyon’s outer perimeter—a simple, intentional gesture just a few steps behind Miriam, separated from the complex main nexus.

That single act would dissolve the entire spell instantly.

Though she doubted it would be necessary, Miriam established the fail-safe just in case the unexpected occurred.

And as fate would have it, the order arrived via telepathy.

The possibility seemed slim, yet she had accounted for the unforeseen with that secondary array.

Ultimately, the instruction manifested as a sharp, direct thought echoing in her mind.

The voice of Princess Selene resonated through the mental link.

“Kill the spell.”

It was blunt and efficient, matching the way Miriam preferred to operate.

She felt no regret for the countless hours spent carving the runes for this discarded spell. Her purpose is service. Had Princess Selene asked for such a feat merely for amusement, Miriam would have obeyed without a word. In truth, she felt a slight internal conflict about using such magic against her fellow werewolves.

Regardless of their status as traitors.

Moon spells are traditionally meant to safeguard werewolves and strike down their foes.

Utilizing them in this manner felt inherently wrong.

But that concern was now irrelevant.

Miriam turned toward the secondary array, using her claws to prick the tip of her finger.

She reached out, allowing a single crimson drop to fall.

Tick...

Like a fracturing hallucination, the world before her eyes suddenly warped.

Miriam blinked violently, struggling to regain her focus.

As the haze lifted, a freezing, sharp realization hit her.

She wasn't at the outer edge of the room.

She wasn't standing in front of the cancellation array.

No. She was positioned exactly at the heart of the main nexus.

Her drop of blood had already triggered the spell, flooding the chamber with brilliant moonlight energy.

“What?! How did I—?!” Miriam’s voice cracked in shock. She spun around, her eyes darting across the room in a frantic panic. The moonlight energy was already weaving itself into the spell's foundation; it was far too late to stop it.

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

Only one desperate path remained.

She had to locate the nexus core and destroy it with raw strength.

Forcing a shutdown in this manner would undoubtedly cause a massive magical backlash against her.

It was one of the spell’s inherent defenses.

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

Deg—!

Suddenly, her strength failed as the dizziness returned, accompanied by a localized, agonizing migraine. Her sense of duty and sheer will kept her from passing out immediately, but staying awake and actually performing the task were two very different things.

A primal fury began to surge from the core of her soul.

It was the raw, forced rage common to any werewolf who had been awakened against their will.

She slumped onto her side, her claws still feebly reaching for the nexus core.

As her mind drifted into darkness, a final word escaped her lips.

“Blood Moon...”

...

Swoosh—!

“What do you mean communication is impossible?!” Evelyn’s voice grew sharp as she watched stone pillars rise to form a cubic cage, sealing the canyon and blocking out all external energy.

“I don’t understand...” Princess Selene whispered, her face turning pale. “She isn’t answering me.”

“Just as I suspected, your acceptance of the peace treaty was a lie,” Gistella hissed. 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 have cast aside my dignity for this, and you dare accuse me?!” Princess Selene screamed in frustration. She gestured to her own panicked expression, “Does this look like I’m celebrating a victory?”

“Quiet, both of you,” Evelyn snapped. “We have to find a way to halt this. Where is Miriam?”

“It’s too late for that.” Princess Selene ground her teeth.

Before Evelyn could demand an explanation, the cubic cage erupted in a blinding flash. The light was so intense it felt physical, a wall of white brilliance that forced them to cover their eyes.

When they could finally see again, a soft, silver rain was falling.

It wasn't water, but a shimmering, fine powder that drifted like ground moonlight. It carried a scent so heavy and sweet it was intoxicating—like the fragrance of a night-flower blooming at its absolute peak.

Following the scent came a wave of exhaustion so heavy it felt like an undeniable decree.

A comforting, thick lethargy washed over them, slowing their thoughts and making their limbs feel like lead.

Gistella lost her balance, stumbling blindly against the railing.

Princess Selene, suffering the same fate, reached out to grab anything that would keep her upright.

Evelyn scowled, shaking her head violently to ward off the sleep.

The voice of the Great Luna screamed within her mind, pleading with her to remain conscious and find an escape. To sleep now meant waking up 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 pull, most would descend into madness.

Through heavy, drooping eyelids, Evelyn gazed down from the balcony. The battlefield had fallen silent; every soldier, friend and foe alike, lay slumped on the ground in a magical trance. She forced her head to turn with monumental effort.

Gistella and Princess Selene were nearby, both succumbed to the spell.

Guided by instinct, she looked up toward the sky.

The waxing gibbous moon hung there, looking like a bloated, blood-red eye.

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

But she couldn't hold the thought.

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

ROAR—!

As her world went dark, a thunderous roar echoed from the battlefield.

It was Sven.

He appeared to be the only one resistant to the spell, or perhaps simply the one with the most endurance.

‘Perhaps he can he—’

The thought vanished before it could finish, and the last of her consciousness dissolved into the deep, silent void.

...

Noctem Vale.

The primary estate of Ravencort House.

“Raagghk!”

A violent sweep of an arm sent perfume bottles, brushes, and a heavy silver mirror flying off the vanity.

Everything shattered upon impact.

A noblewoman stood amidst the debris, her chest heaving with ragged breaths. Her hair, which was usually pinned in perfect order even late at night, was a chaotic mess around her shoulders. Strands were plastered to her sweaty temples by her own frantic clawing.

In the sudden silence, her breathing sounded sharp and jagged.

She jerked to the side.

Her hands, typically poised and elegant, balled into fists before lashing out again, sent a violet vase tumbling from its pedestal. With nothing left to break, her fingers scraped against the silk wallpaper—not searching for a grip, but moving in a desperate, scratching motion.

It was as if she were trying to claw her way out of her own skin, out of the room, and away from this confinement.

It was the frantic, messy movement 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 snapped—not from the friction, but because thicker, sharper claws were forcing their way out from her fingertips. Blood stained the floor as she continued. The agony was plain on her face, yet she did not stop.

Suddenly, she froze.

Aoouuu—!

A distant howl pierced the air.

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

Meanwhile, the chaos in the room remained unheard on the lower floors.

A man in a butler’s uniform sat at a wooden desk in his private office. Midnight had already passed. Since the maids and servants had long since retired to their quarters, his supervisory duties for the day were finished.

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

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

“Enter.”

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

The servant knew the head butler disliked being disturbed at this hour.

But the matter was pressing.

“A letter has arrived from Princess Davina,” the servant explained, placing the envelope on the desk. “I didn't feel right reading it myself. I’m not even sure who the recipient is. I don't recognize the name written on the front.”

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

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

The servant winced, knowing that Lady Mira should have been the one to open her own mail.

However, he didn't dare protest.

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

“Travel to Rontera with total secrecy. An operative will be waiting to bring you to me.

“Time is running out.”

Finishing the letter, the head butler stood abruptly and hurried out of his office.

He moved swiftly through the grand corridors and up the long staircases to reach Lady Mira’s chambers.

He knocked urgently on the wood.

“Lady Mira.”

He knocked again, louder.

“Lady Mira, there is a matter of great urgency.”

Silence followed.

Discarding formalities, the head butler turned the handle and stepped inside, only to find the room deserted.

Furthermore, the entire space had been completely demolished.

A cold breeze drifted through the room.

Only then did the head butler notice the shattered window, looking as though someone had violently burst through it.

“What happened in here...?”