The Invincible Full-Moon System

Crash!

Upon hearing the powerful howl from outside, Leif and the other royalties came to check.

Nobody aside from them could be on par with Sven.

Landing at the heart of their territory—they saw that the tents, and homes of all packs under their rule were decimated. Some were severely wounded or even died, but thankfully, Alphas were able to survive with their Lunas' aid.

Awakening in a new time, Sven didn't waste time and assert his dominance.

Sensing four powerful auras, his berserk, bloodshot eyes turned to the side in interest.

In the hierarchy of the Werewolves—asserting dominance could only be achieved by beating the strongest one around. Amongst the four figures, Sven's gaze locked onto Leif—who was, the strongest of the bunch from possessing dual King Marks.

He has the Storm and the Yule Moon King Marks, representing the Lunirich Gods no less.

Unlike normal Werewolves with King Marks, he was their champion.

Baring his fangs deviously—Sven jumped down from the pile of rubbles that was the product of his rampage. Throwing aside the Werewolf he held with ease, he cracked his neck, locking his piercing yellow gaze onto Leif.

Clearly, he felt that his assertion of dominance was not enough.

Roar!

From walking slowly, Sven crouched down and began galloping strongly like an animal.

As he got closer, the moonlight energy that his body amassed was reaching a terrifying level as even the ground beneath him was beginning to crack. Since the First Breath happened, it should be noted that materials of nature in general became stronger.

Cracking the ground with might alone, sixth-rank realm entities were able to do that easily.

But now, the amount of force needed climbed even higher than that.

So the fact that he could easily crack the ground viciously with each step—showed that the amount of energy he possessed was devastating, no normal Werewolf could be his match— and that was already proven earlier.

Extending his claws, Sven aimed to tackle Leif with his humongous body.

However, before he could do that, a Prince made his move.

Activating his King Mark—the Prince made himself known as the Prince of the Demon Moon, and his entire body immediately swelled and became heavier. Horns and wings sprouted, an unnatural sight for a Werewolf to have.

From a glance, he had an appearance befitting of an actual Demon.

He was Alaric, the champion of the Demon Full Moon.

Many called him a hybrid, but in truth, his bloodline was a pure Werewolf.

It was a surprising sight to see.

But even then, he stepped in the way and stopped Sven's momentum.

Crack!

Locking hands together in a vicious bout, the two were trapped in a fierce struggle.

Both of their energies collided, creating a whirlwind of power.

As their struggle continued, the cracks on the ground beneath them began spreading to their surroundings. Some of the onlookers, were even forced to back away. Aside from the Princes and Princesses, the others need to keep a safe distance.

"Calm down, Sven, or we'll be forced to be rough with you," He said warningly.

However, Sven replied with an even fiercer roar as he pushed Alaric back.

Not taking Alaric seriously, Sven tilted his head and bit Alaric on the arm, digging his fangs as deep as he could. In retaliation, Alaric furrowed his brow and channeled his scorching energy—unleashing an intense heat of moonlight energy to force Sven to let go.

But no matter how intense the heat was, Sven wouldn't let go.

Clicking his tongue, he began clawing Sven but this caused the bite to be stronger.

It was so strong that Sven managed to rip Alaric's arm right off.

Splash!

Like a savage, Sven ate the whole arm and crushed the bones with his fangs viciously.

Blood drizzled down from his mouth as growled at Alaric.

Upon seeing this, another Werewolf, a Princess leaped past Alaric and landed right in front of Sven, embracing his face with gentleness. She was Selene, the Princess of the Honey Moon, and she was twice or three times smaller than Sven humongous stature.

"You are the strongest, nobody here is going to challenge your rule," She said whisperingly.

As if he was answering, Sven darted his eyes back to Leif.

"No... Leif is not a threat, he would acknowledge you as the strongest," She added.

Even though the sway was working for a little bit—seeing that Sven's breathing slowed down immensely, that quickly changed, as realized that this was Selene's manipulation. Roaring out of fury, he swiped his claws at her with a clear intention.

He wanted to rip her small body apart for daring to stand in his way.

Like a blur, his claws sliced through the air but Selene was able to dodge them easily.

She did it in a playful manner and even was chuckling in the moment.

Naturally, her aloofness in dodging angered Sven as he made a deliberate intent to deal one massive blow at Selene. However, she was too nimble, and in each dodge, she taunted Sven by touching his nose.

It was akin to watching some sort of performance, with Selene as the main highlight.

Roar!

Crash!!

Evading yet another devastating swipe infused with a moon-powered explosion upon impact, Selen chuckled wickedly as she gracefully somersaulted away. Despite the fierce attacks, no wounds could be seen on the surface of her skin.

She received not even a single scratch from the exchange.

Upon seeing this scenario, Leif clapped his hands, "Okay, that's enough!"

"It's not good to mock a True Werewolf, you don't want to push him too much" He added.

Laughing, Selene played her slender claws on her lips while looking at Sven in the distance, a grim look adorned his face—from the frustrations of not being able to hit her. "It's a rare sight to see him, I can't help myself to have some fun,"

"You had your fun now," Leif replied, giving her a warning look.

As he said that, Sven peeled through the earth with a simple dash, heading straight for Leif.

Swoosh!

Just as he was near Leif—with the onlookers turning away at the fear of him being slashed to pieces by Sven's fearsome claws an explosion of dust, covered the entire place. Surprisingly, Sven halted in his steps right before hitting Leif.

Instead of attacking back, Leif bowed down a little, showing his respect to Sven.

Seeing the submissive gestures, Sven huffed his anger.

Devoid of any means of communication beyond roars and howls, Sven put physical cues and gestures above everything. He could see that Leif, was displaying submissive gestures—and didn't deem Leif as a threat anymore even though he has Dual King Marks.

"Am no threat to you, am only nothing but a simple Prince," Leif said, raising his gaze slowly.

Upon hearing this, Sven's eyes glistened in question.

Leif then explained—using mostly growls to communicate with Sven clearly.

"We want only your aid, a request, to make Werewolves the strongest"

"Do you not want Werewolves to be the strongest?"

Offered that question, Sven squinted his predatory eyes, as that was a stupid question.

"Then listen and help me, Sven. I need you..."

...

Meanwhile, on the other side of the Supernatural territory.

In the heart of the desolate land—where the veil between the living—and the dead grew thin lay the Undead territory where no living beings were normally seen. But at this very moment, there were a couple of groups of living beings, in front of the Castle of the Dead—with spires reaching towards the dark sky.

A lot of them were Orcs, brimming with vitality that attracted the Undeads around.

But even then, no Undeads reached to touch them.

Leading the Orcs was a bulky Orc adorned in spiky armor, the leader of their clan it seems.

At the center, right in front of the castle was a vast lake.

Some of the Orcs that were stationed at the back felt extremely uneasy as the lake was not a normal lake, it was glowing with an eerie glow, a pool of necrotic energy, that pulsed with the vitality of the living.

Because of this pool, there was this weird pull to their souls that made them uneasy.

If anything, staying here would turn them into an Undead the same.

Throughout the entire territory, towering pillars of death rose like grim totems—each of their surfaces etched with sinister runes, that whispered ancient incantations. Around them were countless souls and undead corpses, most of them were seemingly asleep.

Only wraiths of the darkest kinds could be seen roaming about, keeping an eye for dangers.

"How much longer we should stay here?"

"As long as we need until Elder Noskear instructed us"

Many of the Orcs were becoming restless as they were in the heart of the land of the dead—beings that eat souls and vitality. But even then—the clan leader was firmed on his spot—not going to leave until Elder Noskear said something.

Just then, an all-black Undead knight, a Death Knight came out of the castle.

His burning eyes scour the scene before landing on the clan leader, "Come inside right now,"

"Elder Nosekar is asking for you," He added commandingly.

Upon hearing this, the clan leader nodded and stepped forward without hesitation.

However, as his Warchief, filled with trepidation, seized him by the wrist—silently questioning whether it was the right decision to be here. Even then, the clan leader's countenance turned dark "Lurbhuk has forged an alliance with the new power. We can no longer afford passivity,"

Following the Death Knight, the clan leader stepped into the castle.

Many Undeads, mostly ghosts and specters crawled on the pillars along the corridor.

All of them are looking at him as if he was a snack.

Pressing on, he eventually reached a chamber, and Elder Noskear was inside.

Like an alchemist who came from the pit of unholiness, experimenting with death itself, Elder Noskear could be seen drawing greenish liquid from inside the pot—smearing it onto a book, an unholy book of the Undead.

She did this a couple of times, taking delight in every time she did it.

Relishing her craft to be a masterpiece.

Following the Death Knight, the clan leader stood several steps away from Elder Noskear.

He was watching this process with his heart thumping hard inside his chest.

"In the hands of progress and advancement—the new era humans have achieved something called technology. In doing so, inadvertently sparked ideas within us, the Supernaturals" She remarked, continuing her craft without looking at the clan leader. "Some may call it a curse..."

As she said this, she chanted some form of spell, instilling contents into the unholy book.

Coupled with a relic of the dead engraved on the cover, the book seemed to be completed.

Pivoting around, she handled the book with care.

But as she did this, the clan leader saw something quite surprising from the book.

Even though the energy was thoroughly changed in properties—he could recognize, that the relic engraved on the cover was something that belonged to the Orcs, "But I call it—blessing, a natural advancement of the world"

Standing up, Elder Noskear gave the book to the clan leader.

"What purpose, is this book handed to me, Elder?" the clan leader asked in confusion.

However, as a response, Elder Nosekar smiled, "A blessing for your people,"

"It's a combination spell of our races, something that would bolster your forces," She added.

Upon seeing the interest in the clan leader's face, Elder Noskear's lips curled higher.

A sense of mysteriousness surrounding her.

...

Meanwhile, back to Dargena City, after the arrival of Calidora to the castle.

"Captain Linthia!"

As she investigated the commotion echoing through the city square—which turned out to be Calidora's arrival, Linthia traversed the streets, lost in thought. Entrusted with the protection of the resource production centers, she found herself with ample time on her hands in recent days, the urgency of her duties momentarily abating.

But as she was walking, someone called her name, it was a city guard.

"Captain Linthia!"

Upon hearing this, Linthia stopped and turned to the city guard.

"What's wrong? Did something happen?"

"No, it's not like that, captain"

Realizing that Linthia seemed to be thinking negatively, the city guard assured her.

"I don't know how to say this—but there was an Orc who claimed to have an urgent matter to discuss with you," the city guard reported. "He didn't specify what the urgent matter is—but I can attest that he was being serious"

Raising her brow, Linthia pondered, "An Orc? I don't want to be disturbed right now,"

"Should I decline him, then?" the city guard asked again to make sure.

However, upon hearing this, Linthia hesitated.

She didn't think she had anything urgent with the Orcs, however—an ominous premonition gnawed at her consciousness. Despite her thoughts being otherwise occupied, sh decided to confront the Orc, "On second thought, bring him to me. I'll be waiting at my compound,"

"Yes, captain. I'll bring him to you straight away," the city guard nodded and left.