The Invincible Full-Moon System Chapter 1897: Stopping the Crimson Tide (3)

Immense risk was involved.

Yet, only through such perilous means could the impossible be confronted.

Miriam cast a final, lingering glance at Princess Selene, imprinting the princess’s features into her memory as if this were the last moment she would see her composed. Turning away, her heart hardened like steel. A decision made meant no retreat.

"Buy me time," she commanded Sintra, her voice firm. "Delay them for as long as you possibly can. Every second is critical."

Sintra’s allegiance was to Prince Alaric, under Empress Evelyn.

However, in this dire moment, their aims aligned. Witnessing Princess Selene’s readiness for such a profound sacrifice, Sintra dared not falter. Drawing upon the moonlight energy from her core, she unleashed a powerful burst, striking directly at the encroaching crimson horde.

Miriam moved to stand behind Princess Selene.

She bit the tip of her index finger, commencing the drawing of intricate, ancient sigils.

Princess Selene’s back became her parchment, her blood the vibrant ink.

First, a symbol representing the full moon was etched onto the nape of her neck. On her left shoulder blade, Miriam inscribed the sigil for the current physical form. Following this, a symbol for the secondary form, consumed by pure rage, was drawn. Finally, at the base of her spine, a sigil symbolizing the mind and soul was completed.

By this time, the earth itself began to tremble violently.

"Quickly!" Princess Selene urged, her voice strained as she eyed the advancing crimson tide. "We are running out of time!"

As if answering a divine call, devastating elemental assaults rained down, striking hundreds of the enemy.

Roars erupted from their flanks. The great Order Beasts, one a colossal turtle and the other a luminous pale blue bird, perceived the unnatural threat and immediately engaged the horde. As beings intrinsically connected to the Mortal Realm and its natural order, they sensed the alien nature of the approaching force.

These were creatures that had no place within this dimension.

Explosions erupted in Princess Selene’s vision, eliciting a faint, weary smile.

It was during this crucial intervention by the Order Beasts that Miriam completed the final sigil.

At the center, intricately linked by the crimson pathways to the other four signs, was the symbol of the Great Luna. It manifested as a depiction of a shattered castle, representing the Great Luna’s tomb – a memorial to her ultimate sacrifice for her descendants.

"Your Highness, it is finished..." Miriam reported, her voice laced with hesitation.

A part of her still yearned for an alternative path.

Praying that Princess Selene would be spared this extreme peril.

Yet, no other option remained, and the urgency of the moment was undeniable.

"Proceed!"

"May the Origin bless you, Your Highness."

Miriam’s claws, now suffused with moonlight energy, plunged into Princess Selene’s back.

Her talons pierced the skin, reaching the concealed space within – the sacred repository where the Inner Fang lay dormant, separate from mere flesh and bone. Resilient magical tissues, akin to connective sinew, bound the Great Luna’s legacy to Selene’s very essence.

Miriam grasped the artifact, and with a surge of raw, unyielding force, she extracted the Inner Fang from its resting place.

A luminous, fang-shaped ethereal object materialized.

Almost immediately, Princess Selene unleashed a deafening roar, a shockwave of immense power emanating outwards and engulfing the surroundings. Her cry was one of agony, faint and desperate, hinting at a mind on the precipice of shattering.

Yet, her unleashed power belied her apparent weakness.

A sweet, almost feverish vapor began to sizzle and rise from her form. The Honey Moon King Mark imprinted on her forehead solidified, taking on a metallic sheen. The bleeding from the mark ceased abruptly, and without a moment’s delay, Princess Selene focused her gaze upon the orb cradled in her hands, channeling further energy into it.

Crack—!

Even with her amplified might, the very ground beneath her began to fracture and splinter.

Veins distended across her body. Her claws started to dissolve under the intense energy radiating from the orb. Her eyes, too, had transformed into pure gold, showing no trace of the princess within; still, she persisted. The agony was unbearable, yet she endured.

Tears streamed down her face as the overwhelming pain assaulted her nerves.

Her regenerative abilities worked at an astonishing rate, but they were no match for the sheer destructive force being inflicted upon her body.

Centuries had passed since Princess Selene had last shed a tear.

The sight of her tears fractured Miriam’s resolve.

"Stop! Please, stop!" Miriam pleaded, attempting to reach for the orb as she noticed the Honey Moon King Mark beginning to bleed anew. It was evident that this potent ability demanded a King Mark of a higher ascension; she was pushing it far beyond its limits.

Princess Selene rebuffed Miriam with a blast of her energy, sending the distressed Shaman tumbling backward.

Gradually, yet undeniably, the orb began to emit a delicate, fragrant aroma.

As it swelled to the size of her own torso, she hurled it down into the chasm’s depths.

"Raargh!!"

Boom—!

From the precipice, the golden orb was seen impacting the bottom of the trench, shattering like fragile glass. Its released energy cascaded throughout the entire chasm, coating both the ground and the walls with a golden liquid that unleashed an intoxicating, irresistible fragrance.

Any creature, be it animal or beast-like, would find this scent utterly captivating and impossible to ignore.

Even if they hailed from the God Realm.

Sintra had been in the continuous process of summoning miniature moons, each as large as a small hill, and launching them directly at the throng. These impacts created massive explosions, and although none of the crimson wolves perished from these blasts, the ensuing chaos managed to impede their advance.

Her attention was drawn backward the instant a peculiar fragrance reached her senses.

A smile graced her lips as she and the Order Beasts realized they had successfully bought themselves sufficient time.

Roar—!

A single moment of lost focus.

A singular misstep.

In that instant, Sintra was violently knocked from the sky, her previously safe perch, and sent hurtling towards the earth.

A crimson wolf had its fangs deeply embedded in her torso.

She attempted to wrench herself free, employing every tactic at her disposal. She even tried transforming her body into astral, moonlight energy to escape the biting jaws, but to no avail. The simple act of the crimson wolf's bite distorted the moonlight energy coursing through her, dismantling any spells she attempted to cast before they could take effect.

And to make matters worse, a surge of fury coursed through her.

An untamed rage that completely consumed her consciousness.

It felt as though she had been directly infused with the very essence of the Blood Moon, with no possibility of retreat.

Sintra shook her head, desperately attempting to cling to her awareness for just a moment longer.

She glanced down and observed the horde rapidly closing in, mere seconds away. Looking up, she discerned that she wasn't excessively far from the trench. It was within arm's reach. Sintra grasped the edge—and pulled with every ounce of her strength, dragging the crimson wolf plummeting down into the trench with her.

Hundreds of crimson wolves swiftly followed suit, plunging into the trench.

Rather than leaping over the chasm to assault Princess Selene, they dove directly into its depths.

Captivated by the fragrant scent emanating from its concealed core.

KABOOM—!

Miriam raised her arm, shielding her face from the cascading debris, and witnessed the silver explosion ascend skyward. Past traumas resurfaced in her mind. She recalled the ancient battles where this very silver explosion had devastated the landscape.

It was an unequivocal sign that a Shaman had performed a self-sacrifice, overloading their body with moonlight energy.

Sintra had initiated self-destruction.

She understood that this explosion would be utterly ineffective against the sheer number of crimson wolves.

But that was not her intended objective.

Rather than succumbing to the crimson wolves, she opted to meet her end on her own terms.

On the distant horizon, the Order Beasts were being overwhelmed by the relentless crimson wolves. The turtle was submerged beneath the crushing weight of their bodies, while the bird, its tail seized by at least fifty crimson wolves, was violently dragged down to the ground.

Even so, Princess Selene’s intricate plan was unfolding as intended.

An increasing number of crimson wolves plunged into the trench, irresistibly drawn by the alluring scent.

Despite having excavated the trench as expansively as she could manage, a gaping wound in the earth profound enough to engulf tens of thousands of crimson wolves, their numbers were in the millions. It was a veritable sea of red, inundating the plains like an unstoppable tide.

It would require more than simply the trench to even make a discernible impact on the colossal horde.

And Princess Selene—her breathing grew increasingly shallow, her head starting to loll.

Consciousness was ebbing away, soon to be supplanted by the more violent, rampaging aspect of her being.

At that juncture, she would perish.

Not due to the rampage weakening her—nor the immense strain proving fatal, but rather because Princess Selene would be incapable of coherent thought. Facing the crimson horde in such a state would seal her doom.

'It's filling up,' Miriam mused internally, observing the crimson wolves descending into the trench. 'Any moment now, and the trench will be completely saturated with their corpses. And then, once the alluring scent dissipates, they will emerge once more.'

She understood the course of action required.

To seal the trench, effectively trapping the crimson wolves within indefinitely.

And it appeared that Princess Selene was contemplating the exact same drastic measure.

ROAR—!

Princess Selene extended her arms, releasing her aura and manifesting a greater quantity of golden liquid above her, intended to fill the trench and ensnare the crimson wolves within. However, her physical form was faltering. She was no longer capable of sustaining the required intensity.

Her hands began to liquefy.

Flesh transforming into a viscous, golden fluid.

Yet, the liquid continued to expand, to coalesce, to spread across the expanse above the trench like a viscous cloud.

Princess Selene ensured that should she lose her mind or succumb, the liquid would still descend into the trench. It would take at most a minute. Not a significant difference, perhaps, but it was something. When the reinforcements arrived, when Prince Alaric made his appearance, his task would be considerably simpler.

That was her sole objective.

'Mother... Father...' she whispered, her gaze fixed on the Blood Moon as her arm dissolved into liquid. She stared as if she could perceive her parents reflected upon the moon's crimson surface. 'I made so many errors. But I hold onto the hope that today... this moment... is not another mistake.'

"Stay with me!" Miriam implored, pouring her energy into Princess Selene with near recklessness, yet it proved futile. As long as she continued to accumulate the golden liquid, her King Mark would relentlessly consume her. "Your Highness, do not perish! Fight! Resist it!"

"Leave, Miriam."

Princess Selene glanced back, a faint smile gracing her lips.

King Mark was already fading, his visage painted in a grim crimson.

Even his very cheeks began to melt away into a golden liquid.

"Live on and relay my actions to the Royal Black Prince. May my demise serve as the catalyst for his forgiveness of many of us."

"Y-Your Highness..."

Princess Selene lifted her gaze once more, yielding herself to Meloriana.

Her eyes met the Goddess who peered from the void, and she smiled, fully convinced in her choice.

Werewolves would never stoop to servitude again.

If the Lunirich Gods willed it so, she would rather perish standing than live kneeling.

"Praise be to the Origin."

Miriam averted her eyes.

She couldn't bear witness to Princess Selene dissolving into a honey-like substance.

Just as the world plunged into darkness, a sudden radiance pierced Princess Selene’s vision. Blinking, she felt her life force surge, a rapid recovery as if granted a new lease on existence.

"The Royal Black Prince shall know of your deeds today, but the telling will come from your own lips."

Princess Selene slowly turned her head.

Her eyes ascended to the colossal figure beside her—a werewolf cloaked in dark-brown fur, immense and utterly silent. Its hand rested on her shoulder, a steady, immovable weight. Encircling its wrist was a band forged from pure, runic energy. At its core, a single rune pulsed with an intricate complexity that defied comprehension.

It was a device that revitalized her energy with astonishing speed, akin to a machine.

Despite her royal lineage as a werewolf, she couldn't fathom it. The sheer power emanating from it was all she could perceive.

And though she was aged, this werewolf exuded an aura far more ancient,

one that stretched back generations before her own.

No King Mark, no unnatural mutations. Only raw runic power and profound experience.

In an instant, Princess Selene’s eyes widened in dawning recognition, "Arnulf the Special...?"

"It is Flunra now. Flunra of the Silverstar Pack," Flunra declared, stepping past the princess to face the advancing crimson tide. "I heard you creatures intended to raze Dargena City." His fur bristled as his indomitable aura erupted outwards. "If that's your aim, you'll have to get through me first!"