The Invincible Full-Moon System

Chapter 1752: It’s My Passion

Rex has many enemies.

It was a natural consequence of climbing the ladder of power.

But he thought this time, his existing enemies were limited to a few notable figures.

Nobody knew that he had gone to the Spirit Realm, as even the others, his own pack members, were only notified when he had already departed. And being in another realm, the only real enemy that might reach him was the Fourthborn.

Rex could still hear his venomous words from back then.

And up until this moment, he had been wary about the existence of the Fourthborn.

He was already planning to avoid anything related to Chaos while he was in the Spirit Realm, as that is the most likely place where the Fourthborn reside at this moment. Fortunately, there was nothing related to that throughout his odyssey in this realm.

It was quite fortunate for his standard and experience.

Normally, his luck as someone seeking power would cause him to stumble upon a troublesome phenomenon.

Nevertheless, he was grateful that the enemies he encountered were only tied to this realm.

People who aren’t from a high-profile background.

But he concluded too early.

It’s not that he was fortunate, but a familiar enemy has already been watching him from the shadows.

The Archangel of Knives has been watching.

“Who is that, Rex?!” Amanir exclaimed, staring at the blob of holy energy hovering above.

“It’s an Archangel,” Rex answered grimly. “Who is also a Werewolf Hunter. My fang was so happen to be the last missing piece in his collection. I’ve met and fought him briefly. He and I have an unfinished business of life and death.”

Swish!

Upon their gazes, the holy blob began to pound like a heartbeat.

It quivered like consecrated water suspended in the air while its brilliance grew blinding.

At the fifth beat, the blinding brilliance detonated outward, forcing the sky itself to recoil.

Rex stared into the blinding blob without blinking.

His eyes burned, scorched, but he didn’t look away as if losing sight of the blob would mean death.

From within the wobbling light, manifesting appendages clawed out of its core, six of them to be exact, and Rex soon realized they were six golden, feathered wings. Each wing unfurled with a crack of divine thunder, scattering motes of golden divinity across the air.

Above, the sunny sky turned gold—clouds thickened and swirled with the blob as its anchor point.

I’ve grown substantially stronger compared to back then.

So, why…? Why is my body reacting like this?

Rex didn’t avert his gaze, but he could feel his body was trembling under the blinding light.

Back then, when he first encountered the Archangel of Knives, he was weaker and even needed Iris’ aid to break free from that battle. But compared to back then, he was a lot stronger, even reaching the tenth-rank realm in terms of raw power.

It was confirmed by the System.

However, his entire body was still trembling under the weight of this brilliance.

And his instincts were still telling him to flee.

How is that possible? That was the question swirling inside Rex’s mind right now.

In his current state, he should’ve had enough power to overpower the Archangel of Knives.

But reality proved otherwise.

On top of that, Rex was also confused as to how Stelios could even cross over to the Spirit Realm.

Rex could see it with his own two eyes; the life energy in this realm didn’t press onto the blob as it was supposed to. Unlike him, the blob wasn’t being rejected by the realm, and that should be impossible, as Stelios didn’t come from this realm.

He was from the Mortal Realm.

But through an unknown method, he was able to exist here without any backlash.

Even his soul doesn’t seem to be damaged.

Regardless of the reason, Rex couldn’t show any weakness.

Deep down, he knew the weight of the situation was immeasurable.

Not only because this was the battle that would decide the lives of those he held dear, but also because it would steer his immediate future. He was back in the Spirit Realm right now, yes, but Rex could feel the stares.

Across numerous worlds.

Across numerous realms.

Every single Scion was watching this battle; this graduation battle to become a Blank.

Rex could feel their gazes boring straight through his skin—tracking every ragged breath, every tremor in his pulse, the faintest twitch—across his face, the tension in his muscles, the surge of his power, and even the spike of his adrenaline with predatory focus.

As if every thread of his being had been laid bare for them to dissect.

Any weakness, no matter how small, will be detected.

Worse, it would be used against him in the future if he ever passed this trial.

His stunt against them has established that anyone who dared to attack him would be repaid—with pain and blood. Now, in this trial, the Scions were assessing whether his words and actions matched the fiery persona that he was exuding.

Just a tiny bit of inconsistency, and the entire thing would collapse.

And a collapse would mean total destruction.

Regardless, this is the same as always. I will win. No matter what it would cost, I will win this.

Swish!

Rex bear witness as the sky brightened like Heaven had torn open a window to the Spirit Realm.

Upon the manifestation of the sixth wing, all wings folded inward—embracing the radiant blob, and above it, a halo began to manifest. It was accompanied by the prickling sound of steel clashing against steel, and soon, a halo made entirely of polished steel appeared.

It was sharp and perfect.

Boom!

Eventually, the blob broke open.

Amanir recoiled backward, needing to puncture his long ears into the cobblestone ground to resist the rush of energy.

Golden feathers cascaded like rain, drifting across the world in a silent storm.

Rex’s eyes narrowed when the blob lifted up and disintegrated, revealing a being shaped like a youthful boy around thirteen—curly blond hair gleaming like spun sunlight, draped in flowing white silk—that moved as though the air worshipped him, and bright golden eyes above his condescending smirk.

Behind him spun a vast circle of runic magic forged from a hundred holy knives.

Each blade rotated in serene formation.

In his hands, he carried two curved golden knives, so dense with holy power—they distorted the space around them. He was the Archangel of Knives in his real form, uncovered with any interference spell— that masked his identity.

“Does it anger you…?” Stelios asked, smirking widely. “The moment you realized your hard efforts are only empty echoes towards a void? But you should’ve seen this coming. After all, you should know I’m going to hunt you down no matter where you go.”

Rex clenched his fists and gritted his teeth hard.

Anger rose to his chest.

He wanted to remain calm, remain as cool as he possibly could to give no satisfaction for Stelios—but he simply couldn’t do it. Every torment he had endured in the Spirit Realm, every sacrifice he’d offered to claw his way forward to his goal had amounted to nothing.

From the very start, his end goal has always been within Stelios’ grasp.

“You must be confused,” Stelios murmured, idly twirling the knives between his fingers as he hovered above, utterly at ease as if the entire world sat obedient beneath his heel. “How I knew you crossed over to this realm… and how I can stand here without the slightest consequence. Very well—I’ll tell you the answer.”

“Angels are bound to one another in ways your kind can’t fathom. Our ties to the Spirit Realm ran deeper than blood, so I can feel the moment you crossed over—as I already made sure to remember your scent,” he continued, lifting a finger as if lecturing a child. Then—he raised a second. “And as for how I crossed over so effortlessly… well, you can thank your race for that.”

Rex didn’t answer.

He knew that there were ways Stelios had to find out about his crossover to the Spirit Realm.

But a frown crept to his face at the second part of what Stelios said.

Noticing his confusion, Stelios smirked as he summoned a holy chalice above his head.

Rex could smell a very thick scent of blood the moment the chalice appeared; he couldn’t see what its content was, but he could tell from this thick iron scent. Even so, he was still confused as to what Stelios meant by this.

“In the four days you wandered the Spirit Realm, my lovely clones were busy painting the Mortal Realm red to gather enough sacrifices to sustain my body in this realm,” Stelious murmured; his eyes gleamed with a feverish delight. “A few were cut down—as there are competent humans out there, surprisingly, but even so, I piled up… what, four? Maybe five million corpses? I lost count after some time.”

Deg!

Upon hearing this, Rex’s heart skipped a beat.

Five million lives? In four days? How is that possible?

“Awakened… Elderly… Men… Women…” Stelios’ smirk stretched wider. “Even children.”

“Some were as old as I looked right now,” He nudged toward his own body—like he was boasting his kill to Rex. “And a lot of them are even younger. After all, the younger they were, the better they acted as a sacrifice.”

From the moment Rex saw Stelios’ form, he didn’t like it.

Young, innocent, but the expressions he was making and the heart beating inside his chest were anything but those things. It was an unnerving dynamic, and Rex had never known this about him until now, but he loathed this type of look the most.

Donning a youthful look that was supposed to represent purity is a disgusting taste.

Rex hated it.

But now, the fact that he had spilled that much blood of the innocents made it even worse.

“Hmmm, this made me wonder, since those innocent people—would be alive had you not gone to the Spirit Realm, does that mean this is also partially your fault?” He asked with a teasing tone. “There has to be a fault on your part somewhere, right?”

Boom!

Rex’s aura exploded, eyes bulging with thick killing intent.

He’d always known the Archangel of Knives was unhinged—vain, egocentric, a creature carved from arrogance and cruelty—but never had his imagination stretched far enough to picture this. Slaughtering millions just to anchor his form in the Spirit Realm without consequence… that wasn’t mere selfishness.

Such a thing was nothing more than a monstrosity wrapped in divinity.

It was the reason why his soul wasn’t attacked by the realm, using sacrifices as armor for his soul.

“Did you really have to go this far…?” Rex whispered, his anger barely leashed—voice trembling with the weight of it. “Your Origin is dead, and you are still groveling under his decree? Tell me, doesn’t that make you a loyal little dog? Still flinching at a whip that’s no longer there, too frightened to stop obeying?”

“Doing the same thing for centuries… it stops being a duty after a while—and turns into something far sweeter,” Stelios murmured, tilting his head with a childlike curiosity that didn’t match the carnage in his eyes. “Hunting Werewolves isn’t my work anymore, it’s my passion.”

He lifted one of his gleaming knives and pointed the tip at Rex’s throat.

One can see the blade humming with holy malice, excited to do the last hunt.

“And now there’s only one prey left,” He added, smiling. “I say—why should I not finish the hunt? Not to mention, you’re even kind enough to cross over to the Spirit Realm, where the First Light was. Isn’t this too perfect to waste? I can now kill you in front of the First Light. A poetic ending before I pledged myself to the First Dark.”

“A rebirth…” He added with a satisfied tone. “I’m grateful for you, Royal Black Prince. After I kill you, I can move on to the new era with ease. And with my power, the Mortal Realm and the Spirit Realm will bow down to the Dark Angels.”