The Invincible Full-Moon System

Chapter 1761: Humiliation and Pride

Since the dawn of time, the First Light manifested limitations that were inherited by his offspring.

In exchange for power that stood tall compared to others, he inherited a decree.

An Angel can never use their powers to harm others who have no impurities in their hearts. An Angel’s main duties are to preserve life and protect the innocent. Anyone who was born an Angel would inherit these limitations.

Noble. Grand. Pure duties that befit the strongest.

Power can be good; that is what the First Light’s message was.

Demons existed and were known by many before Angels, and their erratic, even outright heinous, desire for power twisted the view of many. Power is often associated with bad things. Thus, the message the First Light brought was powerful.

So much so that Angels are associated with good things by many.

If someone were told to imagine the embodiment of good, most would imagine an Angel.

And throughout eras, Angels remained consistent.

But nothing can be all good.

It’s been said there was a legendary figure among the Angel race who could bypass the Origin’s decree.

An Angel—No, an Archangel who can use power freely to harm others.

Nobody liked this Archangel.

Heck, most even though this Archangel was a myth—something made-up to slander the Angel race.

Perhaps the slander from the Demons.

But he was real... the Archangel of Knives.

Many parts in the main heaven even told stories about the Archangel of Knives to the young, warning them that misbehaving would cause them to be visited by this Archangel. And it worked. For quite some time, mentioning the Archangel of Knives would strike unease or even fear into Angels.

And yet, that very Archangel of Knives was now dragged through the ground.

”Herghh—!”

Stelios climbed out of the massive and deep crater he was in with great struggle.

He placed his arm over the edge and pushed himself up, revealing his hateful eyes.

Due to the powerful impact, his holy energy was rattled, and the veins in his eyes also exploded.

Now, his eyes were shaded red, amplifying the depth of his murderous look.

Stelios dragged himself forward, each movement punctuated by a ragged gasp.

Once he was finally clear of the crater’s edge, he tried standing up, only to stumble and fall back down to his knees. He pushed up again, his body trembled, but the same result happened. His gaze finally fell downward.

His armor, once pristine and holy, was now broken.

Deep cracks webbed across the breastplate, and whole sections were missing, shattered away to reveal the bruised flesh underneath. It was humiliating. Very much so to the point his entire body was shaking from absolute rage.

Something like this happening should be impossible.

Not only should his power overwhelm the Royal Black Prince—easily, but his armor was also prepared specifically for this occasion, a thin layer of enchanted pure silver coated the entire thing.

But even so, it shattered.

”That energy I felt earlier...” Stelios grabbed his face with maddening rage.

”It’s celestial energy, isn’t it? Power from the God realm. Faint... but it’s there,” His voice dropped to a seething rasp as he thought of that before a ragged cackle tore from him—a sound twisted equally by fury and a bitter, mad humor. ”And for it to overpower me... You want me to believe his divinity... his divinity is higher than mine? Me? ME?!”

Stelios clutched the earth with his bare hands, crumbling what he grasped into particles of light.

The logic of it was an insult to the ages. The Royal Black Prince was a mere whelp, scarcely old enough to be his great-great-grandson. For such a youth to hold a divinity that surpassed his own should be in the realm of impossibility.

A humorous joke.

Not to mention, Werewolves aren’t supposed to be Demi-Gods—they have no roots in the God Realm.

And yet somehow, the Royal Black Prince is a Demi-God.

It was unbelievable—infuriatingly so.

Even the attack the Royal Black Prince did earlier was deeply rooted in the God Realm.

Not a Moon Ability that was borrowed power from the Lunirich Gods, but actual power from them.

Specifically, from the Blood Moon.

Stelios had witnessed such a thing only once before: in the Werewolf Origin. But that creature was an Origin, the one who made a contract with the Lunirich Gods. It was natural for him to have a sliver of celestial energy.

On the contrary, the Royal Black Prince was nothing, and yet he had the same trace.

Sheer frustration gripped Stelios tight.

He slapped the ground again and again, cracking it, venting out his frustration.

”You made us weak!” Stelios exclaimed as he struck the ground, eyes burning from anger. ”You’re the one who made it hard for us to increase our divinity. Saving people to accumulate divine power? What a fucking joke! I bet that filthy gained divine power by devouring others, that’s the sole reason he’s now surpassed my divinity!”

”Damn you!!” A painful scream tore through his throat.

Stelios blamed the First Light.

Why do they need limitations? Why do they need to use their powers for others? Why?

Those questions circled in his mind like a plague.

”It’s good that you’re dead.”

”Your Grace...”

A voice called out to him as he sharply turned to the person; it was Empress Morgana.

Her face was etched with worry.

”Are you alright?” She moved closer, reaching out to help him rise, but was utterly rejected. Her hand was slapped away roughly as if her touch were filthy. ”Your Grace, please,” She persisted, her voice as soft and low as possible. ”Let me help you. It doesn’t have to be this way. Together, we can bring him down easily.”

No answer.

Stelios remained shaking in his rage, ignoring her words like they meant nothing.

It was frustrating for her, but she wasn’t angry.

A Half-Angel like her would never understand what a true Angel felt.

Empress Morgana looked down, not even daring to sigh, ”I... I’ve already secured the First Light.”

At the mention of the First Light, Stelios sprang to her feet and grabbed her by her face.

”You think you’re fucking better than me, huh? Just because you’re living in this established realm and are now a little bit stronger, you think you’re better than me?!” He roared, rageful eyes drilling into the empress’ eyes. ”Are you saying that I can’t hunt him alone? Are you saying that I can’t protect the First Light on my own?!”

”Y-Your Grace, I... I didn’t mean that,” Empress Morgana shook her head timidly.

But nothing she said could quench the anger inside Stelios right now.

Pah!

Stelios slapped Empress Morgana hard, sending her tumbling to the ground.

She held her burning cheek, yet she didn’t retaliate.

Seeing how pathetic she looked made Stelios angrier as she kicked her side, repeatedly.

”You’re nothing but an impure animal who so happens to have our blood, know your place,” He stepped on her shoulder, shoving her aside. ”You need me to purify that filthy blood of yours to become a true Angel before finally transitioning to a Dark Angel, and you think you’re better than me? Telling me that you can help?!”

Bam—!

His foot drove into Empress Morgana’s stomach.

The impact was nothing—a trivial blow that was technically stronger than Stelios, but she let it land.

She didn’t dare to use her life energy to block it.

Heck, even when she felt the defensive artifacts she wore flare to life, she silenced them all.

It’s better this way than angering Stelios even more.

”I apologize,” She whispered, the words dust against the stone. ”I have overstepped.”

Empress Morgana bent forward, pressing her forehead to the cold ground in a deep, abasing bow.

It was not enough.

Stelios placed his foot upon the back of her heart, not with force, but with a cold, steady pressure.

He ground her submission into the earth.

For him, her compliance meant less to him than the dirt beneath his heel.

”If you missed the window to become an Angel, then you’ll never become a Dark Angel and be one of us, so don’t talk to me about helping,” Stelios whispered hauntingly. ”All you need to do is obey me. It is the only thing you’re good for.”

”This is my last hunt, and I’m going to finish it alo—?!”

Crack!!

Before Stelios could finish his sentence, a sudden, thunderous crack happened in the sky.

The bubble that caged April; it was now broken.

Stelios wrenched his gaze upward, every movement telegraphing a weary but unbroken defiance.

His holy energy, though mostly depleted, had settled into a low, stubborn burn within his core.

Even though he was exhausted, there was no chance he would ever fall first in a battle of attrition. It doesn’t matter if he was against a royal werewolf. He had out-endurance countless Werewolves, so this was not the first time.

A streak of red descended to the Tomb of Heroes.

It was fast, but Stelios could see that it was the Royal Black Prince.

He must’ve rescued April and was now securing her somewhere within the Tomb of Heroes.

Regardless, Stelios wasn’t going to let him have his way.

”Not in my watch!”

Stelios flared his six feathered wings and tensed the muscles in his legs, aiming to glide there.

But his eyes widened when something crashed behind him.

Out of nowhere, the sun that was directly shining on him from behind was covered by something, which drowned him in a shroud. A guttural growl that shook the heart reverberated from behind, seeping into his ears.

Even before Stelios turned, he knew who was behind him.

If not for the growls, Empress Morgana’s expression showed clearly who it was.

Once he looked over his shoulder, however, he was greeted by something shocking.

’He’s massive—?!’

Just as expected, Rex was now standing behind him with murderous intent that could fill an entire ocean if it could be translated into water. And he was now bigger, a lot bigger. He was about double the height of Stelios earlier, but now, he was taller.

Rex was easily ten feet tall now, or perhaps even higher than that.

Rage has made his body bigger, which was something that Stelios never knew he possessed.

”Royal Black Prince!!”

Just the sight of Rex being alright after the impact brought newfound rage that he had never felt before.

Sure, Rex was still severely wounded in some parts, but he was supposed to be lying on the ground.

That is how this confrontation should end.

But instead, Rex was looking better than him, and that’s beyond infuriating.

Driven by pure, unbridled fury, Stelios launched himself at Rex—a golden blur of wrath without a hint of fear. The counterstroke came not as a block, but as a brutal shock. Rex’s claws met him in mid-air— with conclusive force, a sound like splitting stone, and hurled him backward.

Stelios opened his wings, arresting his tumble—the feathers shedding light and shattered pride.

He had barely found his balance when the air before him darkened.

Rex was already there, having closed the distance with a predator’s inevitable presence.

Boom!

Both interlocked their hands in a power struggle.

Rex was snarling menacingly, gripping Stelios’ armored hand as hard as he could, bending the steel.

On the other hand, Stelios floated to match Rex’s height—his body glowing brightly with golden light.

”You’re sweating something awful, Archangel of Knives... Can you feel defeat, already?”

”I’ve not shown you all the tricks I have yet, Royal Black Prince. Taste another one...”

Upon hearing this, Rex watched as Stelios’ six feathered wings folded and pointed their tips towards him. Each one concentrated with holy energy and glowed, but their tips were breaking, splitting—until blood leaked.

Swoosh!

At the same time, Rex recoiled as each tip emanated a suction force.

Not pulling him away—but something essential to him, away.

It sucked in his anger and siphoned it into holy energy to empower Stelios even further.