The Invincible Full-Moon System

'I knew that this day would eventually come.'

A man who seemed like a priest thought as he breathed unevenly through his mouth.

His robes, once pristine, were smeared with mud and streaked with blood that was still fresh; the stains still bear the bright color of red. The fabric hung in tatters, clinging to him like a second skin, that was now so dirty that even the Sun Ecclesia symbol at the center was completely covered.

Both hands were bound in ropes, held aloft even as his legs gave out.

'I was sent here as a priest of the church, to bless the land with the Divine Saintess' light. I know I should've refused the offer; the Lumina Bubble is right on the border. Attacks are bound to happen. But that would mean refusing to represent the church.'

'It was right outside the border, too, so the empire won't be able to move freely.'

Blood soaked his lower body, sending violent twitches through him, skirting the edge of seizure.

Looking down, tears streamed down the priest's face as he saw his belly was bleeding.

A hand axe was stabbed there, and blood began to drizzle from the open wound.

Inhaling deeply to catch his breath was a mistake as that made the hand axe loosen, and it dropped to the ground. Now that there was nothing closing up the open wound, blood spilled in a frenzy—shading the lower part of his garments in crimson.

Even though the invaders moved on from him as entertainment, he was still going to die.

Gradually, weakness, dizziness, and exhaustion struck him all at once from the extreme blood loss.

It forced the priest to whimper and cry.

He wanted to clasp his hands, to pray to the Divine Saintess, but his hands were bound.

All he could do was look up.

'As one of your priests, I'm guaranteed salvation in the afterlife. Your light will never abandon me,' He prayed, but more tears streamed down his face as a glimpse of unwillingness crossed his face. 'But please, I don't want to die… I don't want to die now…'

In his dying breath, the priest could only cry in silence.

No miracle would happen as the Lumina Bubble was right outside the empire's border, and the nobles were busy with the new Voidal Monarch. The invaders were led by an Earl, someone who can only be beaten by one of the nobles, so the priest has no chance for survival.

Even if there was a reinforcement, it would be too late for him.

He's going to die any second now.

A heartbeat later, his head dropped as he had no more strength to look up.

All of his senses turned numb, and the darkness of what awaits beyond death began to tunnel his vision.

Only the soil's stillness looming before him remained in the fading, graying world. The gentle sound of his sobs muffled, and dark spots began to spread across his vision. 'I'm still young… I hadn't even had the chance to travel and see the world. But in the end, this is where my story ends.'

Slowly, the priest's eyelids fell like a closing curtain after a show.

If his life were a show, there was not much to see, so the audience must've been disappointed in him.

Just then, a warm sensation crept from the tip of his toes.

'It's warm… I hope I made the right choice, and this warmth wasn't the brush of the underworld.'

As he thought of that, the numbness began to fade away.

His strength suddenly came back like a flood, and when his mind cleared from the fog of death, both of his eyes shot open. The priest blinked once, and then twice, before he realized he wasn't dying anymore, even returning to full health.

Checking his wound, it was closing rapidly.

It was almost as if he had the ability to regenerate.

"What… is this…?" He muttered in shock, collapsing to the ground as the rope snapped. But his mind still clung to the radiant surge of life energy, one that he knew for certain didn't belong to the saintess he worshipped. "Isn't this…"

Realizing what it was, his eyes widened.

But then, tears poured down his face as he wept like a baby.

Regardless of what happened, he was already thankful that he had endured the temptation of death.

It was a miracle. He survived.

Forcing himself to stand, the priest staggered, then broke into a run toward the main street.

Panting through his mouth, he looked around, and then he noticed one thing.

'Where are the wretched invaders?' He thought, surprised to see that the city that was swarmed with soldiers from the opposing forces was now devoid of them. 'Even after the big battle, there are still thousands of them. Where are they?'

Carefully, the priest treaded the main street, keeping his eyes alert for any danger.

Along the way, he passed only a handful of survivors writhing in pain.

Like him, they too had fallen victim to the brutality of the wretched soldiers who invaded the bubble.

Few had endured the slaughter; most died a horrendous, humiliating death.

Other than the writhing survivors, the streets were not as dirty and gory as the priest expected—but though the streets were largely free of corpses, the stench of iron and death still lingered thick in the air, betraying the cleanliness he was witnessing.

He remembered overhearing the enemy soldiers cleaning the city in preparation for reinforcements.

To welcome them.

If the streets were spotless, then the corpses had surely been dragged elsewhere or consigned to fire.

Just thinking about it made the priest's pure heart boil, but he was only a mere priest who hadn't given a blessing from the Divine Saintess, so he was practically harmless. He couldn't hurt a fly, much less make a difference in battles.

Upon reaching the main square, the priest finally saw it.

Standing at the center stood a figure so flawless Gods seemed to take time creating him.

He was slightly hunched, yet radiating an aura of unshakable command.

From head to toe, the figure was clad in intricate steel armor. Every inch under his silken royal robe— gleamed with artistry and power. His face was hidden behind a mask of burnished steel that betrayed no emotion, no sense of the living, only authority.

One and the only softness was the cascade of white hair flowing freely down his back.

Stark and radiant against the cold metal shell that encased him.

One arm was folded neatly behind his back, the other extended down, a gauntleted finger pointing to the earth. From that single point, waves of luminous life energy pulsed into the soil, spreading in quiet reverence, as though the land itself bent to receive a gift.

At the sight of this figure, the priest's breath was caught in his throat.

It had been years since he had last laid eyes upon this being—years since the Spirit Emperor had shown himself to the world openly. The last time had been his wedding to Empress Morgana, a day that was remembered throughout the entire empire.

And ever since, he had been absent.

But now, out of nowhere, the Spirit Emperor came in the flesh.

He came to save his vassals in need.

Scattered around him were the drained skeletal remains of the opposing soldiers that had down turned into decorations, turning the main square into a garden of skeletons. The Spirit Emperor's presence was so radiating that the priest only realized the skeleton now.

'His Majesty reaped the invaders' lives and sowed them back to us?' The priest thought, eyes widening as the emperor's power had never failed to amaze him every time he heard or saw it from afar. 'All of the damage they did was returned to them. This is the power of the Reap and Sow Echo.'

Standing behind him, the ordinary-looking man glanced over to the priest.

A small smile crept to his lips before he turned back to Emperor Dominar.

"I believe the priests of the church have all been healed, Your Majesty." He whispered, noting that those deemed most vital had already been tended to. "I shall inform them to gather in the church—and await your next decree."

Not even waiting for an answer, the ordinary man bowed and took a couple of steps back.

Once he was far enough, he turned and headed for the priest to talk to him.

Emperor Dominar continued feeding the soil power, sowing healing properties—that would heal every single one of them back to full health. As long as they were alive, even when they were right at death's door, they would be healed completely.

As seconds turned to minutes, more and more people began to wake up.

Most of them were unconscious, and now, they woke up confused as the entire city was silent.

No screaming and no sound of soldiers cheering.

In a hush that followed, the emperor caught the faint sound of weeping to his right.

He turned to look and saw a young boy, shoulders quaking as tears streamed freely down his face.

Just from the looks of him alone, he must be grieving someone.

Emperor Dominar approached the young, weeping boy, pausing what he was doing to check what was hurting the young boy. Lying before the young boy wasn't his parents, but a dog instead that was sliced into two cleanly.

It was the work of a blade.

Seeing the shadow looming over him, the young boy glanced over his shoulder and then looked up.

His eyes widened when he realized who it was.

Despite his young age, he knew who this figure was, as his parents never stopped praising the emperor for his effort in creating a harmonious force. Quickly, he wiped his tears and turned towards the emperor, still kneeling on the ground.

He lowered his head further, like what his father taught him to do when he's in front of the emperor.

"Y-Your Majesty, forgive me… I should've bowed sooner. I was just saying goodbye to my dog."

Even though he tried to be respectful, his voice cracked.

It was clear that he was still full of grief.

Seeing such a dedicated and respectful vassal, Emperor Dominar gracefully knelt down.

Such a sight surprised the young boy, as this was not how it was supposed to go.

"Don't come down, Your Majesty," He said in a panic. "Your knees will get dirty…"

A faint smile touched Emperor Dominar's lips; one could know that he was smiling from the way his eyes squinted a little from the holes of his steel mask. And though the boy fussed to brush the dirt aside, he lowered himself to one knee regardless, unbothered by the dirt.

"Nothing from the soil is dirty," Emperor Dominar said, placing a hand on the young boy's head. "As long as you're a part of the empire, the land will always be your friend. Embrace it—give respect to it. One day, it will be returned to you."

"Y-Yes…" The young boy replied sheepishly.

"Now, bring your dog and find your parents." He continued, standing up again.

Not even waiting for the young boy to answer, he returned to the center of the main square.

As for the young boy, he looked at the emperor's back with a confused tilt of his head.

"Bring my dog…?" the boy repeated whisperingly, but then a sudden lick dragged wetly across his right cheek, and he froze. His wide eyes blinked in wonder as he turned his head, only to see his dog wagging his tail. "R-Randy?! You're back…? You're really back?!"

Both the young boy and the dog wrestled on the ground in laughter.

He didn't know this happened, but it didn't matter.

All that mattered was that Randy was back.

Emperor Dominar stood at the center again, where the ordinary man was already waiting.

He looked around the main square and placed both hands on his back.

"There are only a few things important to me in this world. After living so long, most were bested by time." Emperor Dominar suddenly said, gaze still fixed ahead, not staring at the ordinary man. "It's saddening to have another defiled and perhaps soon taken away, too."

Hearing this, the ordinary man's expression turned grim. "What do you want me to do?"