The Invincible Full-Moon System Chapter 1906: To The Last Drop of Blood (5)

From the outset, King Huvuki and Maraka were aware that this confrontation was inevitable.

Despite their eleventh-hour preparations, showcasing the pinnacle of their race's might, the horde would not be so easily dispatched. They were facing a mythical onslaught dispatched from the God Realm, and against such formidable adversaries, they would have to engage directly.

To make any impact, they themselves had to enter the fray.

The colossal ice bear unleashed a deafening roar, concentrating the blizzard's fury to descend upon them.

"On me!" King Huvuki commanded, plunging into a breach in the barrier.

He and the massive ice bear plummeted into the abyssal chasm, descending towards the planet's core—skidding across ice fragments like a living avalanche. Several of the crimson wolves attempting to scale the wall were intercepted by the war hammer, which froze them solid before flinging them aside.

Swirling snow from the blizzard coalesced into sharp icicles, impaling those pursuing from behind.

King Huvuki continued to spin and swing his hammer, felling crimson wolf after crimson wolf.

Upon reaching what should have been solid ground, the colossal ice bear let out another bellow.

A focused gale of snow erupted from its maw—sculpting a dense ice platform to arrest their fall into the immense pit. The platform didn't fully cover the expanse, only a segment near the ice-stone wall, establishing a perilous distance between them and the ground from which the crimson wolves advanced.

Chaos reigned.

Dozens of crimson wolves launched themselves across the void, heading directly for King Huvuki.

Blood slicked their pelts, rendering the ice even more treacherous.

King Huvuki and the giant ice bear fought in concert—repelling the crimson wolves and driving them towards the chasm. Beyond unleashing potent energy beams, the net also served as a substantial shield against the crimson moonlight descending from above, thereby diminishing the crimson wolves' power.

While the weakening effect was not profound, it proved more than sufficient.

Moments later, Maraka dropped to one knee.

His katana was gripped in his right hand, extended to his side, and it thrummed with potent energy and scarlet force.

The instant he lifted his gaze, his form became a blur.

Maraka charged directly at the horde of crimson wolves that immediately assailed him, cutting through them with relentless swings, dismembering them. For those robust enough to withstand an initial slash, he continued his assault, intensifying the weakening effect imparted by the replica of the Amuerus Katana.

Fueled by the ritual's residual energy, his physical capabilities far surpassed normal limits.

Furthermore, the accumulated centuries, if not millennia, of experience from the sacrificed Tigermen were ingrained within his very being, enabling him to move with the efficiency and mastery of a seasoned sword saint. Every motion was fluid, yet the outcome was devastating.

Each strike was executed with flawless precision, devoid of any wasted effort.

As he pivoted, his eyes registered dozens of crimson wolves vaulting over the chasm.

Maraka raised his katana, but then, a shadow streaked past him—and in the subsequent second, every one of them was reduced to ash, only to dissolve into blood once more. He glanced to his left, observing Kyran's landing. Despite his grievous wounds, he remained capable of fighting.

Astonishing, he mused internally. For him to persist in this state, his fighting spirit is as untamed as his lineage.

Kyran confronted the ceaseless onslaught of the horde.

He stood resolute, yet his legs trembled, and his hands twitched uncontrollably.

Agonizing pain radiated through his body, spreading along his nerve endings—overpowering his regenerative capabilities even under the Blood Moon's influence. His four azure eyes gazed forward, but they were narrowed, suppressing the agony.

Notwithstanding his condition, he could not falter. He absolutely could not yield.

For the first time, the crimson horde had been halted—truly halted—and it had demanded the utmost from both the Dwarves and the Tigermen. There would be no future opportunities. Dargena City had to endure. Every soul within its walls had to survive this ordeal.

He must not surrender.

Even if he could no longer remain upright. Even if he had lost all sensation in his body. He was compelled to persevere.

As long as his heart continued its beat, he would resist.

"Come at me..." Kyran intended to bellow, but what escaped was a feeble growl. "Come at me."

For an unbroken span of ten minutes, Kyran, Maraka, and King Huvuki maintained their defensive line.

The resilience displayed was astounding.

Even the armies awaiting the breach of the ice-stone wall, which would signal the commencement of their engagement, were taken aback by this. King Huvuki had assured them of holding for at least five minutes, yet they had already doubled that duration.

Sufficient time for the armies to entertain the notion of a genuine possibility of victory.

Sufficient time for an envoy from the Dark Elf Kingdom to make their appearance on the battlefield.

The envoy arrived from the direction of the Dwarven Kingdom, likely having utilized teleportation.

"By the mother of all darkness..." the Dark Elf could only gasp, his eyes wide as he took in the devastating scene. A sky stained crimson, a raging blizzard, and devastation stretching for miles. The ground trembled with ceaseless shockwaves originating from beyond the formidable ice-stone barrier. "How could this be?"

"What brings you here?" a gruff voice startled him, a dwarf demanding an answer and pulling him from his daze.

"Ah," he responded, clearing his throat. "Who holds command here?"

"I do," declared a dwarven general, astride a mighty war bear, as he advanced. "State your message."

"On behalf of Dargena City, by the decree of Vivian of the Silverstar Pack and Lord Gelmar, you are hereby ordered to capture one of those creatures alive and transport it to the Dark Elf Kingdom." His tone was rigidly professional, devoid of any room for prevarication amidst wartime. "This task requires immediate execution."

"Capture one alive...? Do you comprehend their sheer might?"

"I can surmise. Nevertheless, the objective must be achieved."

"Why? What purpose justifies such a perilous directive?"

"There is no time for deliberation. Secure a specimen and bring it to the designated teleportation array. I shall await you there."

A primal urge to crush the Dark Elf's skull welled within the dwarven general. His soldiers, sent to pursue and capture such beasts? He desperately sought the true motive, the reason behind this absurd command. Yet, the chaotic battlefield was already consuming precious moments.

Crack—!

"General! The wall is failing!"

Casting his gaze upon the ice-stone barrier, the dwarven general’s frown deepened, his teeth grinding in frustration.

A fissure finally appeared, and its rapid expansion was alarming.

In less than ten seconds, a multitude of smaller cracks webbed across the central section of the wall. Fortune had favored them for the initial ten minutes, but even luck has its limits. Now, their luck had evaporated.

Roar—!

The fearsome snout of a crimson wolf breached the ice-stone wall.

It let out a guttural roar, its predatory eyes fixed upon the soldiers assembled on the other side.

Several Tigermen reacted with lightning speed to the breach, launching their weapons at the intruding wolf.

However, its hide and fur proved incredibly resilient.

It required the combined, unceasing assault of two warriors for nearly half a minute before its head, finally severed, rolled away.

"Prepare yourselves!" the dwarven general bellowed, his voice resonating with commanding authority. "Take your positions! Brace for engagement!"

Crack—!

His orders had barely echoed when a hundred new fissures violently splintered across the ice-stone wall, occurring simultaneously and catching the armies entirely off guard. Each breach was driven by the relentless assault of a crimson wolf from the other side.

This was an unmistakable sign that Kyran, King Huvuki, and Maraka were stretched to their absolute breaking point. They were being forced onto the defensive.

Nevertheless, the armies remained prepared; the contingency plan explicitly detailed actions for precisely this dire situation.

Every soldier understood their role without a word.

On the other side of the wall, the climactic battle had reached its desperate culmination.

King Huvuki’s ice hammer fell repeatedly – yet his rhythm faltered, his movements becoming sluggish. A savage crimson wolf had latched onto the flank of the colossal ice bear, tearing through its impenetrable dark ice armor, and was now attempting to ascend. More wolves swarmed behind it, scaling the bear’s immense form, burying both the magnificent beast and its royal rider under an overwhelming deluge of crimson fur and sharp fangs.

It wasn't long before King Huvuki was compelled to disengage.

"Save yourselves!" he roared towards the giant ice bear. "Flee!"

But the magnificent ice bear remained resolute, showing no intention of retreat. It continued to fight, undeterred.

Meanwhile, Maraka found himself in an equally precarious position.

Endurance was their critical vulnerability against the seemingly inexhaustible crimson horde. Despite expending immense effort to cull their numbers, the crimson wolves continued to advance in an unending, steady stream. Maraka drove his katana deep into the belly of a crimson wolf, then sliced it violently sideways.

The beast's internal organs spilled out across the icy platform before its body dissolved into a dark crimson liquid, never reaching the ground.

He gasped for air, his eyes scanning the horizon.

Gazing upon the ceaseless tide of approaching crimson wolves, his resolve began to waver.

‘It’s impossible to halt their advance...’ he thought, a profound sense of helplessness washing over him. ‘There is no end to them.’

However, instead of pressing their attack, the crimson wolves abruptly halted their charge and fixed their predatory gazes upon him.

A chorus of guttural growls erupted from them.

It began as a low, rumbling thunder – a hundred crimson wolves vocalizing in eerie unison. But what truly seized Maraka's attention was the sight of them repeatedly slamming their bodies against one another, accompanied by sickening, percussive cracks. This disturbing spectacle caused Maraka's grip on his katana to tighten involuntarily.

He initially dismissed it as sheer madness. Perhaps the prolonged stalemate had driven them to lose their sanity under the baleful glow of the Blood Moon.

Yet, they weren’t breaking; they were… merging.

One by one, the wolves dissolved into dark fluid, as if succumbing to fatal wounds. Their forms collapsed inward with an unsettling fluidity, shedding their solid structure for a liquid crimson state, and these pools began to flow and coalesce.

More crimson wolves hurled themselves into the growing mass.

Then even more joined.

The dark blood surged upwards, taking form, sculpting itself into a colossal, terrifying silhouette.

A monstrous, giant crimson wolf emerged from the congealed blood.

The instant its form solidified, sculpted from pure blood with muscle, fur, and fang, Maraka’s eyes widened. A mere low growl rumbled from its maw—and immense pressure descended upon him from above. It felt like an invisible hammer, forcing him to his knees.

He attempted to defy it.

Every fiber within him strained to rise, but his body remained stubbornly unresponsive.

Maraka found himself pinned, utterly powerless, fixed to the spot.

ROAR—!

The colossal crimson wolf let loose a deafening roar.

It was the sound of obliteration. The ice-stone barrier behind him, which had withstood the onslaught for over ten minutes, cracked from one end to the other with a single, shattering exhalation. Stone fragments rained down. Solid ice fractured and splintered.

Then, in the blink of an eye, the beast charged.

Having grown weary of these insignificant insects obstructing its path, it lunged forward for the decisive strike.

It transformed into a crimson blur, a stark line of red streaking directly towards him.

Maraka’s life rewound before his eyes. Every joy. Every sorrow. Every single moment that had culminated in this very night surged through his vision. Death was no longer merely approaching; it was right before him, embodied in the form of a colossal crimson wolf.

At the final possible second, a shadow intervened.

It was Kyran.

KABOOM—!

A world-shattering explosion erupted at the point of collision.

The impact detonated with cataclysmic force.

Kyran crossed his arms, his core braced, channeling every iota of his strength and Qi to fortify his body. However, the creature’s charge far surpassed his limits and capabilities. The resulting blast propelled him backward, shattering the ice-stone wall completely.

He hurtled for miles, an broken projectile ricocheting violently against the terrain.

A ringing filled his ears, his vision swam, and everything turned red.

Kyran lay incapacitated on the ground, his gaze fixed upon the Blood Moon hanging in the sky. It observed him with apathetic indifference; his struggle had registered as nothing more than a fleeting speck of dust. Not even a hint of interest was shown. His legs were beyond feeling, and pain was the sole testament to his continued existence, a creeping sensation throughout every nerve.

Then, abruptly, that pain which affirmed his life vanished.

He felt nothing at all.

As if a stage curtain were drawing closed, darkness began to consume the periphery of his sight.

In that moment, a stark realization dawned upon him.

He was on the brink of death.