The Invincible Full-Moon System-Chapter 1501: Mahkam Ruin

"Grant, I'm sorry…"

Once the mechanical door closed, the woman apologized, her face laced with guilt.

She was left with no other choice at the moment.

"If you stepped out, you would've died. I… No, the people can't afford to lose you, too."

Despite this, Grant stood motionless—his shoulders rose up and down from hard breathing, as the weight of what he had seen and done dawned upon him. Dhamar died, died because of his own stubbornness.

But that didn't stop the guilt from drowning Grant's heart.

Had he done something, helped more, Dhamar could've survived.

Thinking about this is bad for him, it would only plunge him deep into a rabbit hole of regret.

Even so, he couldn't help it.

Dhamar died. His best friend from birth died.

Despite his chaotic emotions, Grant turned and went to the young man and knelt down.

"Are you hurt?" He asked.

"N-No…" the young man answered while avoiding eye contact. "I'm perfectly fine."

Grant found solace in this. At least, Dhamar's death wasn't in vain.

Just then, for the first time in countless years, tears began to stream down his face—like a waterfall. He sobbed uncontrollably even though he tried to keep his emotions in check, to be strong like Dhamar.

Now that Dhamar was gone, the mantle of leadership would fall onto him.

And he needed to be strong for the people's sake.

But the tears came out on their own and without warning.

Seeing this, the woman quickly went to console him as he cried even harder, letting it all out.

Accompanying Grant's cries were only the occasional quakes of the ground, the sign of the Voidal Monsters outside, rampaging the cubes in desperation for more life energy. It lasted for about an hour, until suddenly, the screeches and quakes stopped.

It has always been like this.

Every time the dark tide came, the Voidal Monsters lingered for an hour.

Once that hour was up, their bodies disintegrated, torched by the Obelisk of Life's energy.

Grant and the thousands upon thousands of people living in this ruin came out of their cubes and saw the aftermath. Paces away from Grant's cube, Dhamar's drained, fragile—and ashen corpse lay.

His life energy was sucked dry by the Voidal Monsters, leaving only an empty shell behind.

Despite the state of the corpse, the people recognized their leader.

And seeing him dead, their eyes naturally fixed on Grant.

...

Moments later, a group of people of Grant's own choosing checked the mine.

Each one of the people sent here was an Immortal Spirit, the strongest bunch of the people.

As expected, the miners had no time to escape—even after the bell rang. What remained of them were ten thousand corpses, drained dry, their bodies piling the mine to the brim. Each had perished in the exact same manner as Dhamar, their life energy utterly consumed.

All that remained were husks of what once lived.

"Dear God…" One of the people covered his mouth in shock.

It was unbelievable how one bad but swift incident could cause this many deaths.

"Look, one is still alive!"

Another pointed ahead at a fragile man on the ground who was still breathing.

His breaths were haggard and weak, but he was undoubtedly alive.

Swiftly, they went over to the survivor and saw him staring at them with wide, terrified eyes.

"Keep on breathing and don't do anything unnecessary. We'll get you out of here!"

Moving in a rush, not wanting to waste even a single precious second, two men quickly carried the survivor, but they were abruptly halted when another noticed him struggling to speak. His voice was barely a whisper, too faint to hear, yet his lips moved with desperate intent.

Clearly, he was trying to convey something.

Curious as well as troubled, the man leaned his ear closer to hear what the survivor wanted to say.

"Ru… Singing… Here…"

"Singing…?"

For a second there, the man was confused as to what the fragile man was trying to say.

He was about to wave it off as rubbish until a melody entered his ears.

A sound, both haunting and mesmerizing, slithered through the suffocating darkness of the mine.

A low, otherworldly hum—so soft at first it could be mistaken for a trick of the mind.

It carried no words, only a melody that should not exist, a song that scraped against the fabric of reality itself. The notes trembled with an aching sorrow, each vibration laced with something old and hungry, resonating in the marrow of those who heard it.

However, beneath its eerie elegance, there was an undercurrent of something hollow.

Almost out of instinct, the fifty people who came to check the mine instinctively moved in a union.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

All of them turned to peer into the darkness.

Just then, an invisible persuasion struck them—before the entity that was singing this melody emerged, one of them suddenly reached for his knife, held it in a reverse grip with both hands, and plunged it into his chest, stabbing through his heart.

Blood exploded from his mouth.

Blinking his eyes, the man looked down as if finally coming to his senses.

Then, realizing what had happened, he screamed in horror.

But it was too late to do anything as his vitality and he fell forward, dead.

Seeing this sudden influence, the man who heard what the fragile man was saying, paled in fear.

He realized that the fragile man was telling them to run, there was one Voidal Monster remaining.

From the looks of it, this Voidal Monster is also a powerful one.

However, he came to realize it too late.

One by one, the group killed themselves through a myriad of ways.

Some dragged blades across their own throats, their lifeblood spilling in silent surrender. Others used their daggers and plunged them into their chests, collapsing in an instant with glassy, vacant eyes. And then there were those who, driven by the brink of madness, smashed their faces against stone, again and again, until their skulls burst like overripe fruit.

All this while, the melody floated through the air—soft, uplifting, and cruelly serene.

A stark contrast to the grotesque symphony of death it orchestrated.

He watched helplessly.

Blood drew crimson arcs across the air, forcing him to turn away not to get it into his eyes.

Screams of pain ringing against his eardrums.

Until finally, there was only silence—he was the only one left remaining.

It was a mass suicide, and the only one left was the man who realized too late to warn the others.

Not being influenced by the melody might be a sign of his luck, but it wasn't, he was the only one who could see the entity emerging from the darkness. It floats, dawned in a white gown, once a lady of status and power.

Then, the entity disappeared.

A cold wind brushed against the man's nape, he sensed something was floating right behind him.

However, he doesn't have the privilege to turn around as his hands moved on their own.

His hands reached for his head and chin, and with a brutal snap, he broke his own neck and died.

Even as death gripped him, the melody still played in the background.

A song of farewell, ushering souls through the threshold between life and death.

…

Present day.

It was grim, the atmosphere was deadly silent.

A carriage bearing the banner of the Aurelius Noble House entered a bubble and stopped in front of a massive ancient ruin. People they passed along the way glanced at them, however, there was no emotion behind their gazes.

Each one of them was dull, hopeless, and desperate.

Once the carriage came to a proper stop, a man stepped out wearing a silken tunic that spoke of his status.

He ignored the gazes he was receiving and headed for the ruin.

But he was stopped by a soldier at the Immortal Spirit rank wearing nothing but modest leather armor.

"Hmm?" the man raised an eyebrow, looking at the soldier with a mild frown. "My name is Kian, and I am here on behalf of Lord Ferric of the Aurelian Fortress. Move, I came here with good news. Lead me to speak to your leader."

"Leader?" the soldier raised an eyebrow with a mocking glint. "Do you even know his name?"

Surprised by the sudden question, Kian's eyes widened slightly.

But then, when he recovered, his eyes narrowed—as this was blasphemy, "How dare you question me!"

Instead of moving, the soldier stood in his way.

"So you really didn't know our leader's name. I must say, I'm still surprised."

Sensing the commotion, more and more soldiers who were near the area began to approach, looking at Kian like a pack of predators. None of them seemed to welcome Kian, even though the fact that he came here bearing good news.

Realizing what was happening, the soldiers of the Aurelian Fortress came down from the carriage.

All of them placed their hands on their weapons' hilts but stopped mid-track.

It was clear from the way these soldiers were looking at them that if they drew their weapons, there would be a battle. Kian, knowing that they were outnumbered, desperate to appease the situation, "People of the Mahkam Ruin. Listen to me carefully, there will be another team sent here to deal with the Forsaken Tower. Let me talk with your leader!"

"Another team? Like the previous ones that failed miserably?"

"How many years has it been, and only now they came with an answer?"

"Let's just hang him and throw him to the Forsaken Tower. That, at least, would buy us more time."

Seeing the soldiers advancing, the Aurelian Fortress' forces became increasingly uneasy.

"Get back! This is treason!"

"Calm yourselves. Attack us, and you'd face the punishment from your lords!"

As the situation escalated further, on the brink of a fight breaking out, a commanding voice resounded.

Upon hearing this voice, the entire place instantly turned silent, and the soldiers backed away.

Soon, a man walked through the crowd.

He wore an eye patch over his left eye, had only one arm, and leaned on a worn wooden cane to support his single remaining leg. Yet, despite his battered form, the soldiers instinctively stepped back—not out of pity, but out of respect.

Their gazes held no mockery, only a deep, unspoken reverence for the man before them.

Stopping in front of Kian, the man stared at him blankly.

"It's Grant, I'm the one in charge." Grant introduced.

Almost instantly, Kian's eyes lit up as he was now talking to the leader and could rest assured.

"I understand we have neglected your plea, but we're answering your situation now," Kian started as he took out a scroll and handed it to Grant. "I was sent here by Lord Ferric, and wanted to inform you that the four noble heirs and their team would come to help. Once the Forsaken Tower is taken down, we will send someone to repair your broken bubble."

Grant remained silent, staring at Kian without blinking.

Then, after a long, uncomfortable moment, he reached out his hand and took the scroll.

Kian felt like he could breathe again when Grant took the scroll, but he wasn't out of the woods yet.

"Noble heirs…?" Grant muttered slowly. "And who are they exactly?"

"All the details are in that scroll," Kian answered carefully, but when he saw Grant have no intention of opening the scroll, he gulped and continued carefully. "In total, there are four Noble Heirs who were on their way here. The Eleventh Prince, th-"

"Eleventh prince?" Grant couldn't stop his chuckle. "The Eleventh Prince?"

"Yes, along with the Twelfth Prince, the Twelfth Princess, and the Thirteenth Princess." Kian replied.

Grant chuckled in hubris, looking at his soldiers in disbelief.

"So you're telling me, three teams were sent here to take down the Forsaken Tower in the last fifty years or so, which all ended up in a total failure and also caused me the death of fifty thousand of my people, and the Aurelius Fortress' solution was to send a bunch of kids?" Grant laughed aloud, he really could not believe this. "A bunch of Noble Heirs who has been stuck sucking on their thumbs from the start of their lives?"

Then, Grant's laughter ceased completely as his face hardened.

"Hang them."