The Invincible Full-Moon System

Once a land brimming with life, now it was a graveyard of thousands.

Soldiers and innocents alike lay strewn across the torn land; their corpses painted the land with a horror that could never be mistaken for anything but war's true face. The stench of death hung heavy in the air, iron and rot mingling until every breath was a punishment.

But it was always far better to smell death than feel death.

Pools of blood puddled, unnaturally refusing to seep into the earth.

Each one glistened like a dark mirror beneath the radiance of the Obelisk of Life.

From the armor worn by the corpses, two armies from opposing superpowers clashed.

Now, only one army remained standing, exhausted, in pain, but very much alive.

Their black armor gleamed dully beneath streaks of gore, white tabards clung in tatters, and the golden trims on them dulled by crimson stains. Among them stood flag bearers, raising high the banners of the superpower they represent, the banners of conquest.

A black field emblazoned with the dragonhead of gold, an emblem of dominance and pride.

On the edges, cavalry straddled not horses, but drakes of black and gold—fire seething from their jaws with every exhale, scorching the silence with smoldering breath. Anyone on the continent would know exactly who these soldiers were.

The infamous Dreadwing Legion of the Intorac Dynasty.

Standing at the center of the battlefield, a lone man in a black cape rimmed—with gold panted beneath his helmet. His longsword was buried deep in the chest of a soldier clad in regal white standing a step away from him, the last commander of the opposing army.

With a savage pull, the blade came free, and the vanquished leader staggered.

His eyes stared at the man with shock before he crumpled, exhaling his final breath as his knees buckled upon the blood-soaked ground. On instinct or the remaining spasm of his nerves, the commander locked his hand on his weapon again, but life was already out of him.

Under the man's gaze, he fell forward until his head made a light thud against the ground.

Once the commander was dead, the man staggered.

He tore the helm from his head roughly, and drew in the raw air—as though each breath might tear his lungs apart. Underneath the helmet was a man marred with experience. His face, which was framed by a lush but haggard white beard and hair, was hardened by the things he had seen in his life.

Despite the wrinkles etched across his face, his battle spirit burned undiminished.

A famous man who was known throughout the continent, Earl Asur of the Intorac Dynasty.

Also known as the Undying Earl.

Asur looked around him; corpses lay like a carpet of the dead beneath the tongues of fire.

It was silent now—the battlefield that was once alive with steel, screams, and power, was now drowned in silence, broken only by the crackle of burning wreckage—and the strained gasps of exhausted lungs, rasping like the growl of some unseen beast.

For a moment, he simply stood, shoulders heaving, eyes wide as the enormity of victory pressed in.

Then, slowly, a triumphant smile carved its way across his blood-stained face.

Unable to contain his relief and exhilaration, Asur let out a roar—and raised his blood-soaked sword to the sky. The sound tore through the quiet, reaching everywhere across the battlefield. His soldiers, as if only realizing their situation, also answered at once—their voices swelling into a thunderous chorus that shook the charred earth itself.

After a hard-fought struggle, the battle was won.

Laughter filled the room.

Soldiers of the Intorac Dynasty raided the Lumina Bubble.

For a century, the bubble had stood as an unyielding stronghold ever since it was completely built, the first barrier barring the Intorac Dynasty from crossing into the Haeltara Empire. Now, that bastion was no more—reduced from a feared obstacle to a broken relic.

It was a substantial triumph that the dynasty had achieved in centuries.

Asur looked down from the rooftop of a Sun Ecclesia church.

He gazed upon the vast stronghold city, stretching nearly beyond sight as a victorious smile curved his lips—the prize he had claimed for his dynasty. Below, his soldiers reveled in their conquest, laughing, drinking, and raising their voices in the anthem of their empire.

Some even sneaked around to find survivors to slaughter or toy with them.

Since the city was now theirs, the people of the Haeltara Empire would need to be eradicated.

It would not be long before the dynasty sent reinforcements to secure the bubble, so there should be no survivors who could threaten their forces. Asur had already decreed: most were to be slain, and spared only those who are high-profile.

Prions are only served for captives; worthy of the dynasty's chains.

"Earl Asur…"

A voice called him from behind.

Asur turned around and realized that it was his trusted right-hand.

He was nameless, known only as Stone due to his utter inability to ever loosen or rest.

Even now, Stone was still clad in full armor.

"I congratulate you on your triumph, Earl Asur." He bowed slightly.

Hearing this, Asur laughed and tapped him on the shoulder a couple of times, feeling exuberant at the moment. "It's not only my triumph, Stone," He said with emphasis. "It's your triumph too. I saw how you perform, and I commend you, as always."

"I'm a soldier. It's my duty to perform." Stone replied.

Asur nodded repeatedly and walked back to the edge to take in the air of triumph once more.

But Stone has something to say.

"Our soldiers are hunting down and toying with the priests of the Sun Ecclesia," He said, his tone edged with concern. "It's unwise. The dynasty has long waged petty territorial disputes with the Haeltara Empire, but this… this will only fan the flames. Striking at their priests will risk igniting a far greater conflict."

Stone wasn't asking Asur to spare the priests, but to give them a swift, respectful death.

It was the right thing to do lest they wanted to spark a war.

"Leave them be," Asur replied while still gazing ahead, seemingly undisturbed by Stone's concern. "All of them put their lives on the line almost daily, and letting loose once in a while is much needed to keep them spirited. Not everyone is like you, Stone."

Hearing this, Stone bowed his head slightly, deciding not to press further.

He already spoke his concern, and if Asur didn't think much of it, then he should also do the same.

Or at least try to do the same.

"Besides, it'd take Dominar himself to come here to take us down. And I doubt he's going to do that. Not only because the bubble is not that important for him to come down here, but also because nobody had ever seen him for quite some time," Asur said profoundly, recounting the history he shared with the self-proclaimed Spirit Emperor. "At least I hadn't seen him since a millennium ago."

Just then, Asur noticed the soldiers seemed to be doing something near the gate.

He squinted his eyes, seeing that the soldiers were carrying out corpses and tossing them outside.

"What are they doing at the gate?" He asked, pointing at the gate.

Stone walked up beside him and caught on at once. "Oh, that. Not sure if the Haeltara Empire carved a ward into the land, but the corpses were melting down and the bones crumbling to dust. I instructed the soldiers to toss the corpses outside; no sense in dirtying the streets."

He spoke with a nonchalant tone.

It wasn't something worth mentioning since he was only preparing for the reinforcements to come.

Coming to a clean city would be more appropriate.

Yet when his gaze shifted to Asur, he found the man's expression suddenly frozen.

"No, that's not possible…" Asur breathed, and before the thought had even finished, he hurled himself from the rooftop, sprinting for the gate in a frenzy, ignoring Stone—who was calling to him. "That's the effect from the Reap and Sow Echo! He's here?! Rumor said he was wounded, then has he already recovered?!"

Even though he knew that it was the likely scenario, he was hoping that Stone was right.

It was something engraved in the land, not the Reap and Sow Echo.

Just then, the world blinked.

Earl Asur froze when, for the briefest instant, the world dimmed—like a hand passing over a burning flame before vanishing again. It was as though the entire bubble had been veiled and then uncovered in a heartbeat, so sudden he wondered if it was nothing more than a hallucination.

Perhaps his fear of the worst made his mind play tricks on him.

Arriving at the gate, the soldiers saluted, but he ignored them.

Instead, Asur looked over to the corpses.

"Earl Asur, is there something wrong?" One of the soldiers asked.

Seeing the panicked expression Asur was wearing right now made the soldiers wonder what was going on.

It hadn't been half an hour since they achieved their triumph over the opposing empire and took over the Lumina Bubble, and there wasn't anything happening in particular inside the city, so there shouldn't be anything wrong.

But Asur's face showed otherwise.

Shoving the soldiers away, he crouched down to a corpse.

'It's exactly like what Stone said,' He thought, lifting the corpse's hand only to find it dissolving on the bottom. Its essence dropped down and seeped into the soil while the bones grew so brittle that a firmer grip would shatter them to dust. 'No mistaking this… It's him.'

Realizing what was happening, Asur stood up and looked at his soldiers.

"Call the others to arms and be ready on the walls," He said, sweeping his eyes to each one of them.]

Seeing that they weren't moving, Asur clenched his fists.

"NOW!"

His voice thundered and snapped the soldiers from their dazes.

Even though none of them knew what the emergency was, they immediately rallied the others and took their arms once more. On the other hand, Earl Asur vaulted onto the city wall, his boots striking stone with a sharp thud.

His gaze snapped forward, sweeping over the vast plain that stretched beyond the battlements.

Nothing. He found nothing.

Only scorched earth, broken weapons and armor, and the haze of smoke drifting where the battlefield had been. Not finding who he was looking for made his chest tighten. With hurried steps, he pressed on, his cloak snapping in the air as he circled the perimeter.

Each pace grew quicker, sharper, his eyes daring from horizon to horizon.

He moved as if sheer will could drag the figure he sought out of hiding.

Inside, his pulses drummed in his ears—every heartbeat laced with a gnawing urgency.

"Where is he… Where is he…?"

Finally, Earl Asur came to a halt on the eastern wall.

There, in the distance, he finally saw the figure—a shape adrift on the far plain, pale and untethered, slow and collected as he glided with an unnatural grace. Though the figure looked to be walking, his feet touched the ground, but it didn't seem like walking.

He drifted forward as if a ghost loosed, bearing the presence of something not wholly spirit.

And with each step he took, the earth unraveled around him.

Not in a destructive way, but in a beautiful, poetic way.

Scarlet blossoms unfurled where blood had once been spilled, blood-flowers blooming in his wake as though the land itself answered to his passage. As if the blood of his people that was killed today was turned into a powder that rejuvenates the land.

Earl Asur's breath caught in his throat.

The frantic search ended, but his dread only deepened.

Just one look was enough for him to confirm who this figure was—the Spirit Emperor, Dominar.

One of the strongest people in the entire Solmara Continent and even beyond.

'I've not seen him for one thousand years. One thousand years… It's a long time. During that time, my hair and beard whitened, my muscles waned, and my posture slumped a little, and yet…' Earl Asur swallowed harshly. 'He's still the same as I remembered him. Dominar, we met again.'