The Invincible Full-Moon System Chapter 1833: Devilment

Rex had finished his preparations and now awaited Dorn's arrival with steady patience.

The strike against Sky City was bound to make Dorn and his faction members cautious of him, yet extra safeguards wouldn't harm if events took a turn for the worse. In this moment, he found himself utterly alone, encircled by four towering statues.

A sudden voice drew his eyes upward.

There stood Mrs. Greene, just a short distance away.

She wasn't in human form, but as a sleek and stunning dire wolf with an earthy hue.

It had been ages since their last encounter for him. Back then, she delivered grim tidings of a disaster only he could avert. This time, he hoped her visit was purely social. "Did you come bearing more ill news, mom?"

Though he voiced that, joy filled him at her reappearance.

Each glimpse of her seemed to calm the turmoil raging in his thoughts effortlessly.

Around her, Rex always experienced the sharpest clarity.

"You've grown stronger once more," she remarked, her mouth unmoving. Communication flowed through their mental bond. Even beyond the grave, a mother's tie to her son remained unbreakable. "What cost did you endure for this power?"

"Planning to scold me?" Rex leaned in, resting elbows on his knees. A grin lit his features. "Proceed if you must. I joined the military as soon as possible, but I recall those early times when you lectured me on compassion and kin."

Mrs. Greene drew nearer.

Her paws padded softly as she examined Rex, peering past his concealment barrier.

"You haven't responded to my query yet."

"You already know the answer. You've observed me closely. I sense your presence."

"Millions have perished once more, as ever. And that's unjust."

Rex rolled his eyes in response.

In this realm, everything demanded a toll in blood, rendering it inevitable.

Showing mercy to foes equated to harshness toward his loved ones.

And such a fate he refused to embrace.

"Don't roll your eyes at me," Mrs. Greene protested, her wolf form emitting a low growl. "I'm your mother. I sought to embed my principles in you, but your formative years fell under your birth mother's influence, granting you her wickedness. Allow me this victory."

"A mortal versus a God," Rex shot her a glance. "That's what you once told me. With disaster looming, I can't yield to you. I'm exerting every effort."

He remained unaware of the disaster's exact nature.

Yet he grasped what it took to halt it, understanding it could claim his life despite his utmost tries. At minimum, Evelyn held that view due to Qonvale's toxic whispers filling her with dread.

"You've delayed ascending to Godhood, but no longer hesitate." Mrs. Greene's gaze sharpened.

"My time as a God will be brief," Rex dismissed her fears. "Despite your vigilance over me, much escapes your knowledge. Someday, I'll join you and the rest. Then, I'll share my tale firsthand."

"Of that, I'm certain," Mrs. Greene replied with a smile. "Yet, reveal your plans as a God."

Silence stretched heavily across the scene.

Rex understood her implication perfectly. Her anxieties were crystal clear to him.

She feared his Godhood aimed solely to serve as both the divine and mortal offerings when calamity struck. He couldn't fault her suspicion, for that had been his intent.

That is, until his recent shift in resolve.

For his companions, no sacrifice proved too steep.

His very existence seemed a trivial cost if it ensured their security.

However, those near him rejected such notions.

Whether allies from this world or family from his origins, who expressed care through unique gestures, none desired his self-inflicted harm. Their loss could drive him to insanity, but lately he realized they might feel identically.

No reason to value his life cheaply when it never truly belonged to him alone.

"I won't offer myself to end the catastrophe, mom—rest easy," Rex reassured. His voice held firm conviction. Trustworthy. Yet he met Mrs. Greene's gaze once more, his eyes blazing crimson. "Rather, I'll pull a God from his divine seat and offer him instead. Mortals abound in this world or mine for the taking."

Concern for his safety morphed on Mrs. Greene's face into worry over his transformation.

Her lessons were crumbling.

The malice inherited from Rex's true mother now emerged.

"What if it falls short?" she questioned tentatively. "What if the offering fails to halt this massive calamity?"

Rex's grin widened at her words, carving across his features.

"Should it prove insufficient, since I'm not the one offered, I'll hurl additional Gods into the ritual," His expression grew harsher, laced with bitterness. "I'll continue the sacrifices relentlessly until the catastrophe drowns in gore and ceases."

In an instant's blink, her form vanished from view.

Rex turned ahead and murmured, "Turn away for now, mom."

"Your Majesty...?"

A call jolted him from reverie.

He glanced aside to find Linthia partially rising from an inky pool.

"To whom are you speaking, Your Majesty?" She inquired, head cocked in curiosity. "Could isolation from the pack be affecting you? Rumors say some werewolves suffer mind ailments from solitude."

"Mind ailment? For me? Ha," Rex dismissed with a wave. "I'm perfectly sound."

Linthia offered a uneasy smile, 'Yet I caught your earlier words...'

Ignoring the matter, Rex rose and gazed upward. "Have they reached us?"

"Approaching now." She affirmed, detecting the far-off thrum of her sigil igniting at last. Earlier, she readied for this encounter, and fruition neared. But her face shadowed. "He's not solo. Full escort, plus another Gatekeeper."

"The one from that assault night." Her words carried caution.

Should this gathering falter, blame would fall on her.

Not by Rex's decree, but as the messenger of Dorn's summons.

Guilt weighed on her.

"You've erred in nothing, Linthia," Rex comforted, noting her agitation. "Ease up. If tension grips you, head to Amanir and leave this to me."

"No!" Linthia refused. Her outburst rang sharper than planned, and she recoiled, exposing her anxiety to Rex. "No, Your Majesty. I won't falter and embarrass you, but permit me to remain at your side."

Rex gave a nod.

He witnessed her burning drive to grow potent and serve effectively.

Given Linthia's contributions, she merited a place by him.

"Then position yourself right next to me upon their arrival," Rex indicated his flank.

Linthia stepped fully from the ink pool, beaming, and claimed her spot beside him. To observers, she resembled a watchful shadow with piercing eyes—a threatening outline exuding dark menace. Immersion in the Well of the Untold had plunged her into abyssal shadows beyond ordinary depths.

Her very presence could chill blood to ice.

"You've leveraged your circumstances astutely, Linthia," Rex commented, eyes fixed ahead.

His remark blindsided her entirely.

Wide-eyed, she fixed on his profile, momentarily frozen.

"From a shrinking figure to one of true competence, you've traveled far," He added, dipping his head in approval. "I can't fathom your trials below, but you excelled. That's evident. Dindora would surely beam with pride."

Linthia dropped her gaze to her feet.

A tear pricked her eye, yet she restrained it and straightened tall.

Unlike before, her posture now bore a subtly raised chin.

Dozens of miles off, vibrant streaks like comets ripped across the heavens.

Dorn and Malvis soared through the skies toward the meeting spot. Trailing them came select Lava and Shadow Paladins, elite forces for ruling their territories throughout the domain.

Every member ranked among the finest in their ranks.

Sight of these trails would spark curiosity over the Gatekeepers' secretive rendezvous.

After traversing more miles in the endless void, the pitch gloom began shifting to red. In the distance loomed a small Blood Moon, radiant and floating over battle-ravaged remnants.

"We've arrived," Dorn declared, diving downward promptly.

Malvis landed too, then addressed the paladins. "Search the surroundings and secure the boundaries."

They acknowledged silently and fanned out.

The pair then covered the final stretch to the ruins on foot. Yet as they neared where the small Blood Moon hung, visibility failed—only a hazy void where structures ought to appear, like an intentional veil.

"Avoid any moves to pierce this veil," Dorn cautioned.

He recognized Rex's handiwork and aimed to spare Malvis any slight.

"I'm wiser than to try," Malvis waved off the worry. "I grasp the stakes here."

Only upon drawing very near did the haze lift.

Expecting reciprocal formality in their greeting, the Gatekeepers instead beheld Rex clad in combat gear. In werewolf guise. He lounged atop a coffin, expression neutral, betraying neither curiosity nor boredom.

He merely observed their advance, as casually as drifting clouds.

A subtle pressure washed over Dorn and Malvis instantly.

Not raw dominance to crush them—they stood too mighty for such subjugation. This felt distinct. It stemmed from an entity superior in essence. As though they confronted not a mortal being, but one from a loftier plane.

Having witnessed that fateful night, they noted the shift immediately.

It tied to the emblem encircling Rex's upper chest like a choker.

He had transformed somehow, though the precise change eluded them.

Dorn and Malvis shared a glance.

Their choice proved sound. Rex's rapid evolution bordered on alarming.

In a decade, or perhaps less, his sheer might could rival theirs.

Linthia, positioned nearby, seemed to detect their inner satisfaction, recoiling with a glare—an unexpected defiance that startled the Gatekeepers. "I've stated it plainly. Your purpose here is duty alone. To elevate their potential—yet you stray from that already?"

"I am Malvis, Gatekeeper of Shadow. Forgive my unannounced arrival—but I ensure the ritual's success," Malvis advanced a pace and clarified. "I request you disregard my attendance."

"You're not my audience," Linthia grinned, jabbing a finger at Malvis teasingly. "I'm addressing you, Dorn."

"I intended to notify you of this alteration, but lacked a secure channel," Dorn responded, keeping his tone even yet audible. "Regardless, I'm here for my duty, and his company won't—"

"That's not the protocol," Linthia negated with a shake of her head.

She directed her palm downward, conjuring a portal of deepest ink.

Out stepped a form.

Its eyes burned red, drool spilling from its jaws like a beast's.

Dorn's eyes bulged, identifying his nephew—near enough to a son.

"You've erred gravely. And such errors demand a fitting toll."