The Invincible Full-Moon System-Chapter 1447: One More Trophy

Mortal Realm, the Endless Sunlight Dominion.

A young man no older than fifteen could be seen tracing a land-rich in nature.

Golden clear puddles could be seen here and there, towering trees basked under the endless source of light flourished, and even mutated animals that adapted to the terrain could be seen running around in harmony—there were no bloodshed or power struggles in this domain.

It was a peaceful dominion governed by the all-seeing light, killing anything that was considered hostile.

As the young man was walking, several light strikes struck him—from above powerfully, quaking the ground but those strikes did absolutely nothing to him. Not to mention, he did nothing but trace down the path but the all-seeing light still deemed him a threat.

Every single light strike was nullified by the crimson wings decorating the young man’s back.

Boom!

Boom!

More and more light strikes struck him as he got closer to the heart of the dominion.

Eventually, he arrived under the all-seeing light and saw its brilliance cascading down like a waterfall.

Kaboom!

Instead of mere light strikes, he was now struck by an endless stream of light beams—that threatened to evaporate his existence from within the dominion. However, it was still ineffective, the crimson wings were too strong of a protection for the all-seeing light.

Just as the young man was about to reach for the light waterfall with his hand, a voice stopped him.

"Stelios,"

Upon hearing this, the young man, Stelios stopped and glanced over his shoulder.

Behind him was a divine bird, a dove with pristine white feathers that were longer on its tails.

It looked like a normal mutated bird but its eyes, glowing golden showed otherwise.

"I thought I’m too filthy for you to come visit, brother," Stelios mumbled with a slightly mocking tone, knowing exactly who he was talking to, the one in control of this dove. "Oh, I’m sorry… Should I call you the Original Darkness now? Or are there any other names you want me to address you with?"

"I’ve done what you needed me to do so go away unless you have other instructions" He turned away.

But then, the dove spoke again, "Hand over his head and I’ll spare your eyes from my sight"

As soon as it said that, Stelios paused.

Seeing this, the dove instantly realized what that pause meant, "I came here when I heard you’ve met and fought that Demi-god, that Werewolf. But could it be that you failed to take him down? You’ve grown weaker, brother…"

"Your forte is killing, and Werewolves are your favorite target—and you failed? Funny." It pressed on.

Regardless of what it said, Stelios remained silent.

He has no good excuse to refute.

"Funny…?" Stelios sneered in ridicule as he glanced at the dove once more. "What’s funny is my high and mighty brother, who was now the new Origin of the Angel race came running here immediately to confirm whether that Demi-god was dead or not. Are you perhaps…"

Pivoting his body, Stelios approached the dove with steady steps.

He then leaned forward as his tongue flicked out, darting between his teeth as he hissed, "Threatened?"

Upon hearing this, the dove scoffed.

"A patron of mine was interested in him and I’m here to find out what’s there to be interested about that Demi-god," It answered in a relaxed manner, not riled even the slightest bit by Stelios. "If you failed to kill him then hand me his blood"

"No, I’m not going to let you steal my prey," Stelios answered firmly.

Swoosh!

Then, out of nowhere, he grabbed the dove roughly with his hand as it tried to break free to no avail.

Slowly, Stelios brought the dove closer to his face, "I’m going to be the one to kill him…"

Splash!

As soon as he said that, he tightened his grip and killed the dove instantly—forcing the other person’s mind—who was controlling the dove to be extracted forcefully. Once that was done, Stelios turned around and reached for the light waterfall.

Just then, the cascade of light separated—creating an opening for Stelios to step inside.

Once his foot stepped inside, the light beam disappeared, and the door also closed on its own.

Inside the cascade of light was some sort of a chamber, a circular underground chamber that hosted only a singular path that led to the throne of grey-colored light. On each side of the path was shallow water that was sparkling beautifully with the same shade.

Other than the throne and the sparkling shallow water, everything was covered in darkness.

Despite the brilliance, the surroundings were completely dark.

From the side, two figures approached—both were women who almost looked like robots.

Each of them seemed identical to the other—raven black-colored skin that was smooth like a polished stone, long white hair one tied in a ponytail—while the other to a bun, cryptic ash-colored energy pathways marring across their bodies, sharp black nails, and a pair of horns that were made up of two knives stabbing into their skulls.

Both of them helped Stelios take off his wings and also put aside his trident.

Once he was free, he traced the path with confident steps and sat on the throne.

Several wounds could be seen still bleeding but once he sat down, those wounds began to heal rapidly.

As he settled on his throne, the darkness around him retreated like a shroud being pulled away.

Light bloomed gradually, revealing a cavernous chamber teeming with shadows that shifted into focus slowly. Behind him, the wall loomed like a macabre painting—dozens, no, thousands of fanged heads pinned in place, each impaled through the mouth by a magical knife.

Their lifeless eyes seemed to glimmer in the dim light.

On their foreheads was a unique mark that still bore a small amount of energy.

Despite being placed there for hundreds if not thousands of years, the energy from once they were alive still lingers like ghosts. Just from the mark and their predator eyes, these were clearly Werewolves, each one a trophy of his conquests.

At the center of this grotesque gallery lay an empty space, spacious and stark.

A white-bladed knife hung there, humming faintly with an ash-like aura, its power palpable even in its stillness. It was a placeholder, a promise. Stelios only needed one more piece to complete his collection, the last head he would claim to complete his grim masterpiece.

Stelios glanced at the empty spot, a faint smile playing on his lips.

He had been waiting for this day to come for a thousand years—the hunt was not over.

Not yet.

One last dance.

Leaning back against the throne, he flicked his hand as a knife materialized out of thin air.

Its blade was coated with blood and savagely, he smelled the blood deeply before licking it—savoring the taste with both his eyes closed. Just then, the halo above him began to flicker for several seconds until he opened both of his eyes again.

A peculiar glint could be seen flashing in his eyes, "Spirit Realm…? Now what’re you doing there?"

…

The snarls echoed in his ears, sharp and bloodthirsty.

Rex stood at the mouth of the cave, hackles raised, and fangs bared.

He was in the body of a wolf, a wolf with ink-black furs that seemed to absorb the very moonlight that cascaded down from the night sky. The pack of wolves were pacing in front of him, fangs—and claws coated with blood, his blood.

For better or worse, he didn’t know how long he’d been fighting but his legs were trembling now.

Bleeding wounds dripped down his furs and wet the ground below him.

Despite the darkness that covered the cave behind, he could feel them—the ones he was protecting.

All of them were inside, trapped and depending solely on him to save them.

Rex could feel their presence, their fear, their trust while the wolves who were threatening him exuded violence, hatred, and death. One was a demon wolf, another was featureless, another was skeletal, gnarly and grotesque, angelic, there were all kinds of wolves in front of him.

And for some reason, despite their differences, they were all against him.

All of them wanted to get into the cave.

Knowing what was at stake, Rex couldn’t fail here now or ever.

One of the wolves, the angelic wolf lunged at him—jaws snapping.

Blood sprayed more, decorating the ground like paint on a canvas.

Pain flared in his stomach but he kept going.

Another wolf darted in, viciously sinking its fangs into his shoulder.

Rex shook it off, snarling tirelessly.

But the pack was relentless, their movements coordinated, and for some reason—even when there was an opportunity to get into the cave, they stayed on their grounds. Almost as if they have a code, to kill him first before entering.

Each of their moves was coordinated, their hunger for malice insatiable.

Rex fought hard, with all he had.

But his body was failing, his vision blurred, and the wounds overwhelmed him.

The wolves were too many.

As he struggled to stand up on three legs, the last wolf appeared.

Larger than the others, its fur blacker than his like the void, its eyes empty yet piercing.

The Wolf of Death.

It moved slowly, deliberately, as it knew that time was on its side with Rex bleeding out.

The other wolves parted, giving it space as if it were the Alpha.

Rex tried to stand taller, to growl, to intimidate, but his body had no strength remaining.

And finally, when he stumbled, the Wolf of Death lunged.

Its teeth viciously sank into his throat.

Pain exploded, white-hot and searing, but Rex kept trying to claw it, to do something, anything.

But he couldn’t, he was helpless.

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His began to limp—he collapsed and his vision darkened gradually.

The Wolf of Death stepped over him, its breath cold against his fur.

Soon, the other wolves followed from behind, following the Wolf of Death’s lead, their claws scraping against the stone as they entered the cave while Rex couldn’t do anything to stop them but choke on his own blood.

It was then—the screams began.

High-pitched, desperate, filled with terror—but the worst part was that the screams were familiar.

Rex recognized all of their voices.

Angered and desperate, he tried to howl, not knowing what he was expecting from doing it, but only a weak whimper escaped. The sounds of tearing, of snapping, of agony filled the air. Rex closed his eyes, but he couldn’t block it out.

He was forced to listen as his beacon of lights was snuffed out.

The cave, the place where he deemed sanctuary was uplifted and turned into a tomb.

Nothing he could do anymore, he was defeated.

And it was then, he woke up.

Rex opened his eyes slowly and adapted to the surroundings.

It was all a nightmare, a vivid nightmare that struck his mind like a bullet but he wasn’t gasping, he was not sweating, only his heart was pounding inside his chest. The screams still echoed in his ears, but the cave was gone.

Even the wolves were gone.

Only the memory of it remained, a reminder of what was at stake.

Realizing that it was all a dream should be a relief but Rex didn’t feel relieved at all.

A dream about wolves has always been a foresight, the people of Dupok City said that they were cursed for driving out the wolves from their natural habitat and turning it into a city. Rex didn’t believe it before, but with how his mother described the howling wolves and how he saw a wolf the moment when his mother died, he had no choice but to believe it.

Death, huh… Is that a prophecy? Will I really die before I can create a sanctuary? Continue your journey on novelbuddy

Is death going to claim me soon?

His nightmare wasn’t only a nightmare, he believed it by heart and he needed to change the outcome.

As his mind recovered from the nightmare, Rex lifted his gaze and saw a woman sitting in front of him.

"You’re awake, good…" She mumbled lightly.