The Invincible Full-Moon System Chapter 1905: To The Last Drop of Blood (4)

King Huvuki had never personally engaged with Kyran. It had never escalated to that point. However, he was well aware of Kyran's notorious reputation as the empire's executioner, particularly his brutal actions against the Dark Elf Kingdom when they endangered the empress. These terrifying deeds had solidified his status as one of the Silverstar Pack's most dreaded members.

From that moment on, King Huvuki had always perceived Kyran as utterly ruthless, capable of mirroring the emperor's fierce nature.

Therefore, witnessing Kyran in his mangled, tear-filled state completely blindsided King Huvuki. More crucially, it underscored the formidable nature of their current adversary, making them far more terrifying than the Rastrikan Demons.

Kyran pushed his bloodline abilities to their limits, superimposing layers of thick ice onto the stone wall, even as ragged gasps escaped his lips and a dizzying fog clouded his mind. Stars swam before his eyes, and his vision had blurred into a smeared mess, rendering him barely able to remain upright.

He struggled to keep his footing, his legs trembling precariously.

On the opposite side, he had exhausted every possible tactic to impede the advancing horde. Whether it was picking them off individually, taunting their dominance, separating them within a Dominion, or erecting barriers with his bloodline powers, none of his efforts proved effective against the relentless crimson horde. It was a completely futile struggle.

Overcome by desperation, he hurled himself directly into the heart of the crimson horde.

Kyran had already devoured a dozen of the crimson wolves, his strength amplified far beyond its normal limits—yet he could barely maintain his stance. He had managed to dispatch only two more before his body was savagely torn to shreds. He survived by a hair's breadth, propelling himself to safety, specifically behind this stone wall.

As much as he desired to confront the crimson horde alone, he recognized his inability to do so. He required assistance.

"Move it, men!" King Huvuki bellowed, snapping out of his stupor. "Continue and finish fortifying the wall. And you holding the net—be prepared! Anchor yourselves to the ground! Timing is paramount!"

In addition, he motioned for the Elven healers to attend to Kyran. Although Kyran could feel their healing light soothing his battered body, the pain remained intense. He had to concentrate fiercely to prevent himself from losing control and succumbing to berserk rage. Panting heavily, he looked up at the night sky, his gaze fixed upon the Blood Moon.

A single tear escaped his strained control as he clenched his teeth so hard he tasted iron.

'I yearned to grow even stronger.'

'I desired to follow in his footsteps.'

'But I am unable.'

"Ten seconds! Brace for impact!" Maraka's roar echoed through the air, though it sounded muffled as it reached Kyran's ears.

His perception of the world had become muted, as if death itself were reaching for him, its claws poised to rip away his soul and drag it into the abyss.

For a considerable time, Kyran had been fixated on obtaining a King Mark, an advancement that would elevate his strength, much like Rex experienced when he was still largely human. But it was unattainable. Unlike Rex, whose birth moon was the Blood Moon, Kyran's was the Yule Moon. And the Yule Moon does not grant a King Mark.

'I cannot follow his footsteps if my journey ends here.'

An profound silence descended upon the entire area, so absolute that the sound of a pin dropping would be audible to anyone nearby.

Then, the impact struck.

Kaboom—!

The instant the crimson horde collided head-on with the ice-stone wall, a violent surge of energy erupted with unearthly fury. The ground fractured, cracks snaking outward like serpents, creating immense trenches for miles around. Behind the wall, these chasms swallowed dwarves and tigermen like ravenous beasts.

Those fortunate enough not to be near the trenches were flung away by the sheer force of the shockwave, like leaves scattered by a tempest. Some simply vanished, their bodies disintegrating before they even touched the ground.

Maraka clung on, then looked upwards. His pupils widened in disbelief as he witnessed a crimson tide surging skyward, eclipsing him.

A wave of raw devastation that scaled the height of the wall. Triggered like a chain reaction by this destructive surge, the runes emblazoned across the entire ice-stone wall ignited. Thousands of them flared simultaneously, and a shield of vibrant energy unfurled, confronting the tide in a cataclysm of light and ruin.

From the perspective of an onlooker, it was like two titans locked in a spectacular, wrestling embrace. But for those embroiled in the battle, it was equivalent to death made manifest.

Swoosh—!

Another pulsating wave seeped through the ice-stone wall, disintegrating hundreds. For the initial half-minute or so, the armies would be compelled to endure. Only the initial impact would be truly devastating, and soon, their chance to counter-attack would arise.

King Huvuki clenched his jaw and lifted his ice hammer, conjuring a blizzard that formed a protective dome. He pulled on the lead rope, forcing the colossal ice bear to stand upright. "Throw the net now! Throw it now!!" he commanded.

With practiced synchronicity, the Tigermen assigned to this crucial task braced themselves against the oncoming barrage.

While their regenerative abilities were not as potent as a werewolf's, they were sufficient to keep them on their feet, to mend torn flesh. A thousand of them drew power from their core, heaving the immense net upwards with their combined strength.

As seasoned martial artists, their movements flowed as one, a unified and flawless display.

Hundreds of Dwarves struck the ground with their palms, causing stone platforms to erupt beneath the Tigermen, launching them skyward. With impeccable timing and perfect coordination, the net was flung over the ice-stone wall, unfurling majestically as it sailed through the air.

It resembled a colossal fishing net cast into the vast ocean.

Its material shimmered, cutting through the furious onslaught, yet it did not descend upon the crimson horde.

Instead, it remained suspended in mid-air, hovering above the enemy.

King Huvuki gestured once more, and this time, the cannon perched atop the mountain summit was brought to bear.

Upon receiving the signal, it unleashed a gargantuan cannonball encased in ice directly towards the net.

Boom—!

The sheer force of the firing alone produced a thunderous boom that reverberated far and wide.

Instead of exploding on impact, the cannonball dissolved into mist—a swirling, coalescing cloud that fed the blizzard, intensifying its howl. Snowflakes infiltrated the steel mesh of the net, seeping through every link until the metal's steel-grey hue transformed into an icy blue.

Another cannonball roared. It was the same projectile, and its effect now fully transformed the metal net into one of ice.

Recognizing the opportune moment in perfect unison, the Tigermen squared their shoulders, solidified their inner resolve, and, with the Dwarves' assistance, began their ascent up the ice-stone wall. In their grasp were the war hammers previously wielded by the Dwarves.

They positioned themselves upon the frozen net, adopting their ready stances.

One Tigerman landed precisely at the center of the ice net, raising his hammer high. "This is our domain!" he proclaimed.

With a mighty swing, he brought it crashing down upon the ice net.

The instant he struck, a circular magical formation materialized on the opposite side, unleashing an ice beam directly towards the crimson horde. A deafening explosion echoed as the crimson wolves were pummeled from above, trapped within the bowl-shaped confines of the wall, with no possibility of evasion.

More and more Tigermen descended onto the ice net, striking down with fierce intensity.

For the next minute, a spectacle of explosive power unfolded.

Explosion after explosion resounded with crushing force, battering the crimson horde relentlessly.

Initially, the crimson wolves endured the onslaught. Defeating even a single one was a monumental task; they were creatures hailing from the God Realm—Godlings. However, the passage of time, the ceaseless barrages, and the unwavering resolve of many were capable of achieving marvels.

Godlings began to fall one by one, their bodies scorched black before dissolving into pools of crimson.

Even before the crimson horde could mount a counterattack, the very ground beneath them started to crumble.

Dozens plunged into the chasm, but the barrage of explosions continued unabated.

Like tireless blacksmiths, the Tigermen pounded the ice net repeatedly.

As the ice net, forged from Osmalt Ores, was the sole source of energy for the beams, the Tigermen were spared any expenditure of their own Qi. Their sole task was to strike with all their might. The harder their blows landed, the more potent the beams became.

It was conceivable for them to maintain this assault for a full three minutes.

And even after that duration, replacements stood ready, prepared to continue the relentless hammering.

A select few, the more formidable crimson wolves, attempted to scale the ice-stone wall.

The surface, rendered slick by ice—ice imbued with the potent heat from Kyran's bloodline, capable of turning others to ash—presented a perilous and nearly insurmountable challenge. Yet, the crimson wolves ascended higher and higher.

Even as their claws turned to ash, they regenerated with remarkable speed as they clawed their way up the ice-stone wall.

More followed in their wake, a murderous glint in their bestial eyes.

This forced struggle, this impediment, wounded their pride far more grievously than any physical injury ever could.

Though they were beasts, the inherent superiority derived from their origin in the God Realm was deeply ingrained.

It was branded into their very essence.

And this rage, born from wounded pride, served as fuel for the Blood Moon, augmenting their strength further.

Crash—!

A dozen beams struck the lead crimson wolf, yet it was utterly unfazed.

It did not even falter.

Below, the crimson wolves were succumbing to the earth's crust, while those just arriving on the battlefield were annihilated by cannonballs. One such impact produced an explosion spanning a mile, decimating the crimson horde.

But the leading crimson wolf remained indifferent to the devastation.

Translucent blood burst from its body, shrouding it in a crimson aura that rendered its form into a fleeting scarlet streak. Then it attacked—a projectile of destructive power crashing into the ice net. The net stretched precariously before violently flinging the Tigermen atop it away like mere rubble.

Others who managed to cling to the ice net attempted to strike down the crimson wolf.

However, their efforts were useless.

It broke through, ripping a considerable gap in the ice net.

A wave of fear washed over the Tigermen; they couldn't fathom how the crimson wolf, even a powerful one, had managed to breach the ice net constructed from Osmalt Ores. Even the formidable fighters active in the world today were incapable of such a feat.

Only the most potent Order Beasts could even dream of achieving such a thing.

Yet, they were not hallucinating.

It had truly torn a hole through the ice net.

At that precise moment, a shadowy blur streaked through the air—too swift for the eye to follow.

The crimson wolf's throat erupted in a bloody spray, severed before it could even register the strike. Its ferocious eyes widened in shock, disbelief flooding its fading rage. On the opposite side, Maraka stood poised, balanced on a single thread of ice as if he were an ancient master.

His posture was as unyielding as a sharpened blade as he observed the realization dawn in the crimson wolf's mind.

And not granting it a moment to counter, Maraka advanced.

He struck the crimson wolf a hundred times within a single second, then reappeared directly above it.

Each slash from the replica of the Amurerus Katana cut deeper than mere flesh.

It drained the wolf's power through profusely bleeding wounds, its very essence spilling out in rivers of crimson and dwindling spiritual energy. With a guttural sound, he cartwheeled forward, his body a whirlwind of ferocity—and brought down an axe kick upon the beast's skull.

The creature plummeted like a falling star.

Right before the eyes of the Tigermen, it vanished into the depths, knocking a few of its own kind aside.

Maraka twirled his katana and surveyed the scene.

To his left, King Huvuki descended, landing atop the colossal ice bear, its gigantic paws making the ground tremble upon impact.

To his right, Kyran touched down, ice shards scattering beneath his feet.

"It appears it's our turn to engage."