The Invincible Full-Moon System

Chapter 1798: Crazy Man

For days on end, Haxel had been on the run.

He called it traveling, but that’s only an attempt to appease the knot in his chest.

Betraying Morgana meant becoming a fugitive, and he wasted no time unning as far as possible.

If someone asked him the reason he was running, he would say because he was now a fugitive, but the truth was another thing entirely. He was running from Rex. The threat Rex spouted seeped into his bones, and his entire being told him to run.

And he did when Princess Davina came to try and rescue Rex snapped him from his stupor.

He immediately ran after she came.

A mile away, he looked back one last time when he heard a painful scream.

Rex is dead.

Princess Davina’s scream must mean the Immortal Slugs managed to drag him to Hell.

All he needed to do was avoid the authorities, and he would be fine.

Only royal knights scare him, and there are only a few of them.

Leaving the empire shouldn’t be a problem.

His plan was to cross over to the neighbouring dynasty, but he needed resources to do that, and he had a person in mind who could help. A shadow followed him. Or at least, he felt like there was a shadow following him.

It made him uneasy. Afraid. But it’s only in his mind.

Only harmless tricks his mind played to keep him alert.

Rex is dead, and that’s all there is to it.

Nobody has ever broken free from the Immortal Slugs. Nobody.

The moment he fell into that fissure is the moment of his death.

But the world proved Haxel wrong. That there was always the first time for everything.

At one of the bubble transits, it started to rain with leather parchments.

Written on it was a royal decree about the usurper, and below is a magical drawing of a man.

A man who struck crippling fear into Haxel even through the drawing.

Rex.

He is alive.

Princess Davina should’ve reported that he’s dead if he was really dead.

But this parchment made it clear that Rex is alive and kicking.

’Run to the ends of the world. Run to another realm for all I care; it makes no difference.’

A voice echoed like a warning from his subconscious mind.

It was Rex’s voice, and words were the last thing he said before he was dragged down.

’I’ll hunt you down. I’ll tear your body apart… rip your heart out.’

“Can you move this thing faster?” Haxel asked, tugging the driver’s shoulder—while looking around the all-encompassing darkness. He was now riding a long sled made entirely of life energy through the Black Rift’s expanse.

It looked like a serpent from a distance.

But instead of slithering, it torpedoed forward like a bullet.

A low-rank Seeker was providing transportation service, and this was the only alternative for going to the destination bubble. Floating through this area is dangerous. Too many voidal mosquitoes the size of an oversized hand.

Not that threatening, only a Voidal Pawn.

But they were numbering in the millions, and with enough, their venom could topple a Master Immortal Spirit—or even an Eternal Spirit in worst case scenario. Keeping close to the ground is the safest option.

“Wha’s the rush? Yer a princess or something? I can’t make it faster,” the Seeker grumbled in annoyance, already regretting taking on the request of a weirdo. “We are ten minutes off. So—park it and stop natterin’. My ’ands are full as is.”

Haxel is a respectable knight.

Leading the battle from the frontline is not alien to him. He should be used to this kind of situation.

But it was different now.

He couldn’t endure the anxiety anymore, wanting nothing more than to leave the empire.

Aooouuu—!

“What’s that?!” Haxel snapped to the side.

His eyes were fixed on a dwarf mountain one or two miles away. Its top was caved in as if there was a giant who had taken a bite off its summit. And along the tip, there were massive curving sticks that hummed with a flicker of light.

“It’s a pack o’ Blind Voidal Wolves,” the Seeker said, flicking his hand dismissively. “Work wiv all the mozzies. A symbiosis mutali-whatsit. The pack finds the grub, helps take it down—mozzies got a feed. Now sit down an’ quit it. Nuffink’s wrong.”

Along the way, this happened several times.

Haxel needed to know exactly what caused the noise or else he’d go insane.

It was annoying to the point that the Seeker swore he wouldn’t take in any weirdos ever again.

But as the Seeker had said, nothing was wrong. Haxel arrived at his destination safely. It was a small, isolated bubble barely sustaining around ten thousand lives. The population was mostly miners, and the hazy air was thick with the smoke that churned from countless chimneys scattered across the cramped, domed horizon.

The Seeker took the money from Haxel’s hand roughly and immediately turned around to leave.

He doesn’t want to waste a single more second with Haxel.

Haxel didn’t care as he quickly rushed through the street, keeping his head covered well by the hood.

He brought nothing with him, only money.

Nothing is in his hands or back.

Most things can be bought again, but his life couldn’t, so he didn’t even care about going back home to gather his things.

Since the bubble was so small, he could see the translucent border from the middle of the street. It was really unnerving. His mind kept painting shadowy, grasping shapes in the distorted haze beyond, driving him to walk faster.

Now, with the certainty that Rex was alive, every imagined thing in the outer dark felt more surreal.

Like someone was really tracking him.

“AAHH!!”

A scream tore through his mouth as he fell to the ground.

Eyes turned towards him.

He was pointing at the border, eyes widened with fear, and lips quivering uncontrollably.

“Something is out there! Something is out there! It’s Rex! Rex!!”

Many turned to look at the spot he was pointing at, fearing that there were Voidal Monsters that were going to attack, but none of them found anything. Only drifting darkness lies beyond the bubble. It irked many as Haxel sowed unnecessary fear into them.

“W-Where is the head of this bubble?” He grabbed the hand of a passerby. “Where is the governor?!”

“Go away, crazy man.” The man pulled his own hand away and kicked Haxel on his shoulder.

Haxel stumbled back, but rage quickly rose inside of him.

“I am a respectable Knight! How dare you treat me this way!”

“Yeah, right. Dream-on, lunatic.”

Like a beggar desperate for money, Haxel kept on going from person to person, telling them that what he saw outside was real. That something was really out there. That something was really following him. Nobody believed him.

As a matter of fact, the more he tries, the more people think he is crazy.

Some of the local guards even came to him and threatened to kick him out.

It was only then that he stopped and continued on his way, laughing in self-pity that nobody believed him.

“I really did see something…”

Just a few weeks ago, he was a respected knight with almost a hundred squires wanting to be like him.

Now, he’s a fugitive and a crazy man.

He understood the wheel of time never stopped turning. There were seasons when he was sitting at the top, and seasons for him be at the bottom. But this didn’t feel like a natural descent. It felt as if someone had turned the wheel violently, wrenching him from the top and sending him crashing down.

A tough pill to swallow, but swallow it is the only thing he can do.

In front of the door to a humble house, Haxel stopped.

His fist dangled near the door, hesitating to knock on it and meet the person inside.

’I’m sure he’ll hate me for collecting, but he’s still indebted to me.’ Haxel sighed deeply.

The man he was going to meet was Arran, the squire he’d once taken in and raised. Now crippled and forced from the path of knighthood, the spiteful Arran remade himself into a criminal—and became the de facto criminal boss in this bubble.

Not a good way of living, but at least he didn’t become useless.

It was for that old debt—for the roof and the training and the wasted chance that Haxel now came.

For taking him in, Haxel wanted his help now.

Coming here seeking help is humiliating, but this is his only chance of leaving the empire silently.

As he made the first knock, the door suddenly creaked open.

Haxel frowned and pushed the door wider, slipping his head inside to check.

It was silent.

The hallway was dark and silent, but a sliver of light bled from where the kitchen was supposed to be.

Someone was home.

At this time of night, Arran is probably drunk and passed out somewhere.

It has been decades since his retirement, so he’s not in any shape or form a knight candidate.

Haxel, his pride still brittle, decided against knocking. Instead, he suppressed his aura and slipped into the house, moving with silent intent, hoping to find something of value he could take and sell. Stealing is better than having the humiliating conversation.

And besides, is it stealing when he’s stealing from a thief in the first place? Probably not.

He went to the kitchen.

It’s clean. Too clean considering that this was Arran’s house.

Haxel thinks nothing of it and rummages through the cabinets when he finds nobody.

Arran is meticulous and odd, so his valuables must be in an odd place.

Finding nothing at all, he turned and headed to the living room, but stopped when his eyes caught a box, a peculiar one placed nearly on the kitchen table. Curious, he opened the box and immediately recoiled at the sight of an organ.

A heart.

It was so clean, so tidy, and so fresh.

Not even a drop of blood stained the box.

Haxel knocked over kitchenware as he stared at the fresh heart.

Something is wrong, and he immediately bolted towards the door without thinking.

But as he reached the hallway, he saw the door was now shrouded in swirling blackness.

It was an energy that he wasn’t familiar with.

He fought to escape—burning his life energy against the dark, throwing his full strength against it. But the blackness was a solid, unyielding wall. No matter how he strained, it wouldn’t budge—ancient and immovable as bedrock, tempered by eons and impervious to his fury.

Bang—!

“Come on!” Haxel yelled in frustration.

At the sound of a thud, he instantly turned around and stared at the staircase.

Someone was on the second floor and is making their way to the first floor.

“Seems like there’s an uninvited guest,” A feminine voice echoed through the house. Powerful. Ghostly. The voice made every single muscle inside Haxel’s body tense. “This guy didn’t tell me that he was expecting company.”

A shadowy woman emerged and made her way down.

She stopped when she reached the first floor, staring at Haxel with an unreadable gaze.

“W-wait!” Haxel threw his hands up, the woman’s aura pressing down with a depth he couldn’t measure. She was stronger than him, that’s for sure. Whatever enemy Arran made, he’d been a fool to even think that he could win against her. “I’m a passerby. I won’t say a word—I don’t even know him. Just let me go.”

His eyes flicked to Arran. Or what’s left of him.

The woman was dragging his corpse by the head, one-handed, which explained the odd, heavy thuds that echoed down the hall. Not footsteps, but the dead weight of a lifeless body bumping over the stairs like a sack of flesh.

Haxel already has enough on his plate.

No need for him to get into more trouble.

But the woman simply smiled.

“I’m not here for him,” she said and raised the corpse higher. Then, her eyes returned to Haxel. There was blood behind them. “I’m here for you.”