The Invincible Full-Moon System Chapter 1805: Lady Justice (1)

Althea emerged from the carriage. She graciously took the hand that a servant extended to her.

Accompanying her were those she scarcely regarded as family.

The members of House Seawyn appeared in splendid, opulent attire of soft blue. The ladies donned light blue dresses featuring low-cut necklines that revealed their shoulders and collarbones with subtle poise. Silver edges outlined the bodice and waist, as airy sleeves cascaded from the shoulders like gentle ocean fog.

The gentlemen sported pristine, uneven coats that highlighted their builds. Chains and metallic details lay across their chests, purposeful instead of merely ornamental. A lengthy blue cloak draped from one shoulder, flowing behind them like a vibrant emblem of the calm sea.

This day brought joy to the entire empire.

It marked the execution of the usurper.

Though Althea had no desire to be present, she found herself compelled to attend. It had something to do with displaying a show of unity.

At that moment, she found herself mingling among her thankless relatives.

The composed haughtiness of Marquess Darius grated on her as he boasted of his role in aiding the empress. The smirk of amusement from her husband, noticing her unease, only worsened her disposition. She declined to link her arm with his when he suggested it.

Instead, she linked her arm with that of a servant, dragging the unfortunate fellow along with the House of Seawyn.

"I guess Althea could use a bit of comfort," Lanna, the eldest sister, remarked with a charming laugh. "Cheer up, dear sister. That expression of yours might ruin the whole gala."

"Why not let me comfort you with my sword?" Althea replied with a feigned innocent smile. "Your face has lost its womanly charm thanks to that fresh... fashion choice of yours," She drew her index finger across her lips, imitating the ugly scar that twisted Lanna’s mouth. "You ought to quit chasing cuteness and aim for a more rugged look. It would fit you much better."

"Show some respect, sister," Borque, the eldest son and heir, commanded firmly. "We’re out in public."

Althea let out a scoff, paying no heed to Lanna’s furious stare.

Marquess Darius fixed them with a quiet, cautionary look. His eyes shimmered blue with authority.

"Let’s temper our words," Her husband intervened, resting a hand on Althea’s shoulder. He shot a warning glance at the servant too, urging him to depart—which he promptly did. "This is an official event. We shouldn’t shame Father."

"Oh, darling, your words remain as honeyed as ever," Althea laughed with biting sarcasm. It mocked all the flattery he had lavished, and the implication hung clear to all. "I’m sorry for my conduct. Now that I’ve experienced a true gentleman, it seems my speech has picked up a few tricks. Naturally, it carries a sharper edge these days."

Her husband’s expression turned stormy in an instant.

He balled his hands into tight fists, struggling to contain the rage that Althea dismissed with lighthearted mirth.

"Come now, darling," She threaded her fingers through his. "The royals could use a touch of sweetness."

Althea composed herself afterward and trailed after Marquess Darius along a winding corridor lined with knights in ornate royal armor, weaving through the labyrinthine marble passages from the entryway up to the second level.

Nobles assembled in that space for gatherings while awaiting their summons to the Milky Garden.

The emperor resided on the rooftop at present.

Knights saluted and trumpets blared upon Marquess Darius’s arrival.

The grand glass doors swung open, allowing the House of Seawyn to enter the vast, luminous area. Crystal walls restrained the heavens themselves, flooding the room with a soft, brilliant light. Elongated tables covered in silver cloth lined the edges, burdened with fine confections and light wines.

In the center of the room, a modest band played a gentle tune.

To the music’s beat, a group of Demon Spirits bearing cat-like traits swirled in dance.

Servants glided among the crowd like quiet streams, presenting sparkling glasses that reflected the illumination.

The atmosphere buzzed with the chatter of aristocrats. A whisper woven with schemes of rank and influence.

Against the distant wall, next to the gateway to the rooftop gardens, an enormous artwork commanded attention. It showed a lady with enormous, glowing Angel wings in desperate escape, chased across infinite night by a shadowy beast.

This captured the triumph of Empress Morgana in drawing away the White Mask.

Ethereal fingers brushed her back, her wings bearing the full weight of the empire’s aspirations.

Althea felt an urge to spit toward it.

She had witnessed the events firsthand, knowing full well that no victory would have come without the individual facing execution that day.

The empress’s acclaim derived from that one figure, yet the honors landed squarely on her.

Even more revolting was the sheer ingratitude.

A genuinely mighty and skilled leader would acknowledge credit where deserved.

And a worthy sovereign wouldn’t condemn their greatest allies.

Althea surveyed the assembly, tuning out her husband’s lectures on propriety and limits. She sought a particular sight or presence. Close to the rooftop access, she noticed a striking cluster of coordinated greens that drew more gazes than usual.

House of Castillon.

She hunted for Princess Davina but felt disappointment upon failing to locate her.

A firm tug pulled her aside. It came from her mother, Drola.

Her hold clamped down on Althea’s arm like a luxurious yet unyielding trap. "When we reach the top, you’ll heed my guidance. Praise the empress’s magnificent achievement and express sorrow for the usurper’s treachery." Her tone formed a hushed, severe murmur intended solely for Althea. "Stick to the script. This represents your opportunity to correct that... unfortunate error of yours."

"Unfortunate error?" Althea snorted in disbelief. "What error?"

Drola yanked her closer, her gaze igniting with fury. "Your error lay in halting your husband’s forces from supporting the royals. That could qualify as treason if the empress so desires, do you grasp that, daughter?"

"Oh, so now I’m your daughter all of a sudden?" Althea wrenched her arm free. "Empress Morgana is nothing but a deceiver. Anything she told the emperor to sway him was pure fabrication. You weren’t present, mother. He rescued Father and me. And now you expect me to laud the viper who turned on our rescuer?"

She refused to linger for her mother’s retort.

Rather, she pivoted to escape the clamor.

Debating with Drola proved pointless, as she had never once conceded her faults.

In fact, Althea couldn’t recall a single instance of her displaying even a hint of warmth.

Not even during the ordeal of her arranged marriage, when Drola provided no maternal sympathy or empathy as a fellow woman.

"You realize, at age one, you chose a spoiled fruit." Drola’s words halted Althea mid-stride. She kept her back turned, but her attention sharpened on her mother’s voice. "Among all your siblings, only you selected a spoiled fruit. Such misfortune.

"In truth, your resemblance to me was strongest, so I forgave it. But I erred. I should have cast you aside if I’d foreseen your ingratitude."

Althea balled her fists and strode onward.

She wished to believe Drola merely aimed to wound her, yet deep down, she recognized the honesty.

It rang entirely true.

Upon the rooftop, the empire’s elite and Spirits anticipated their arrival.

Every noble donned a power-suppressing bracelet before entering the sunlit expanse of eternal greenery. A volatile sea of overly excitable individuals poised to display awe and reverence for the emperor’s endeavors. Creamy streams wound through the garden’s borders.

Althea shielded her eyes from the sun’s glare.

Within this royal sanctuary, the heavens appeared utterly ordinary, as though the Black Rift had vanished.

This stemmed from the mighty barrier of the Citadel-class Obelisk of Life.

The Black Rift itself got displaced, unveiling the genuine sky free of abyssal gloom.

One could even glimpse the far-off temple of the Sky People blending amid the clouds.

Graceful marble walkways twisted elegantly. Silent statues observed from manicured niches, their detailed shapes softened by ages past, as gentle basins reflected pillars and heavens equally. All elements gleamed white—from pavements and gateways to railings—yet the garden radiated no chill.

Sunlight drenched the foliage and blooms, while crisp breezes carried the serenity of fountains and stone.

Ahead on the distant end, a petite tower ascended roughly twenty meters.

It rose slim, light-hued, topped with a level platform.

Flanking its base were two enormous blooming crabapple trees extending to the summit. Their pinkish-red blossoms provided vivid contrast to the neutral setting. The emperor, in all his splendor, positioned himself atop the tower’s peak.

He posed like a timeless, vigilant guardian, arms clasped behind him.

His flowing locks danced and sparkled beneath the firmament, his gaze emanating majestic might.

For one who had endured millennia upon millennia, he appeared youthful. Even pure. No marks or harsh creases marred his features. Truthfully, his beauty outshone mere handsomeness. The realm preserved his vigor, evident in every aspect.

Royal guards formed impeccable rows on either side of the tower.

Captains positioned themselves a short distance behind the emperor, scrutinizing the incoming nobles with keen eyes.

Althea noticed a compact marble pavilion at the tower’s right flank. Two royal knights stood sentinel by its entrance. Their strategic placement suggested the captives waited inside, ready for their fatal moment.

On the opposite flank loomed a device, shrouded beneath fine fabric.

Though concealed, every noble recognized its nature.

Soul Crusher. An apparatus designed expressly to dispatch offenders in the utmost agony.

This gathering masked a public beheading as a celebration.

The aristocrats claimed their designated positions, each holding a wine goblet, signaling the ceremony’s true commencement. The House of Seawyn formed a cluster of nearly thirty near the middle, steps away from the two Duke Houses.

Althea lingered at the group’s periphery. Her kin turned their backs to her.

All attended to the emperor’s address. He extolled the bravery of those present. Tradition and stability demanded safeguarding and scrutiny. Then he smoothly turned attention to the empress’s remarkable accomplishment.

His words amounted to nonsense cloaked in grand, ceremonious language.

She examined the expressions among the throng.

No trace of the empress, despite her starring role in the discourse.

Aristocrats lifted their glasses in toasts and applause, yet Althea stood motionless in place.

Surrounded by these individuals suffocated her. Those who blindly chased authority’s current. She claimed as much, though she mirrored them in her own pursuit of might. Unlike them, however, she sensed the flow reversing against the crowd.

She took pride in never donning a complete facade.

Althea had always shown her true self openly. Joy, fury, or sorrow—all displayed plainly for others to witness. That might explain the sidelong looks she drew. They sensed her revulsion, which she welcomed.

Her eyes lifted toward the emperor.

Typically, his sight stirred deep affection within her.

A quality in his stare ignited her aristocratic yearning for dominance and glory.

But now, that affection had vanished.

'It’s vanished...' She pondered inwardly, her gaze sharpening. She then scanned the nobles once more. Her relatives, her competing house, the successors and heiresses. 'His strength has faded—yet these idiots remain oblivious. So shortsighted. For the first time, I feel sorry for them.

'They’ve never encountered true potency. Never beheld Rex. His essence draws strength to him. Draws the very platforms to ascend greater heights. I witnessed it myself. Even Davina, my adversary, perceived it. These souls have aligned with the losing faction.'

A derisive grin tugged at Althea’s lips.

Viewing these simpletons as misguided eased the oppression.

It brought relief.

She directed her sight upward again, only to discover the emperor gazing directly at her.