The Invincible Full-Moon System

Rex landed hard against the floor.

His landing echoed across the top floor as he broke free from the Temporal Labyrinth in an instant.

It was the new skill granted by the Dimensionality Sheer Badge, the very item Henry had given him to ensure his safe travel. Space Breaker. A single attack capable of tearing through the space of any pocket dimension or lesser realm.

And it seemed the Temporal Labyrinth wasn’t strong enough to endure its power.

Just from the layout of the realm Rex had fallen into alone made it clear that anyone who was dropped there would be stuck for eternity. An ever-shifting labyrinth that contained the power of time, certainly capable of trapping anyone without the power of time.

A perfect place to drop someone like Rex.

Fortunately, he has the Space Breaker.

"I thought you were a goner," Davina exhaled in relief.

"Don’t worry about me," Rex cast an assuring smirk. "It would take more than dropping me to a realm in order to trap me. Henry predicted this situation and gave me the ability to break space. Even without it, I’m sure I can find a way out of any realm."

Naturally, the Space Breaker skill made it far easier for him to flee a separated place like earlier.

But even without it, Rex reckoned he could still break free.

After all, he had the System with him that could scan the area and search for any weak point.

Just that it would take longer than using the Space Breaker skill.

"A Demigod of the Overseer of Realms..." The Warden finally turned to face Rex; the mere association with the Overseer was enough to shift something behind his ancient eyes. "Now I understand. That is how you were able to enter this realm despite your—meager divinity."

"Don’t you owe me an apology?" Rex turned his body to face the Warden.

Even though he managed to flee the Temporal Labyrinth, it didn’t mean he was fine with it.

Not when he didn’t harbour any ill intentions from entering this realm.

"Apology? Bold words, Demigod." The Warden vanished and reappeared behind his desk—seated with languid ease as he nonchalantly flipped idly through a stack of pages. "If an invader stepped into your home, are you going to let him be? No—you will crush them as you did to those insignificant plebians in your empire."

Plebians in your empire? Did he read our past?

Considering that the Warden has dominion over time, looking at someone’s past must be easy to do.

It would be as easy as crushing someone under the full moon for Rex.

But the System didn’t alert me, so he must’ve read Lilliana’s past.

"In honour of the Overseer, I can assign you an escort, someone to show you around. After that, I expect you to leave," the Warden continued as he placed his lance-cane onto the table. "I am not someone who loves violence, but I wouldn’t mind it if I need to, so take this offer before I change my mind."

Silence enveloped the entire top floor for a few seconds.

And even with the finality in his words, the Warden sensed no movement from Rex’s group.

None of them made their way out.

Slowly, he peeled his eyes from the book and fixed on them again with faint annoyance. "What are you still doing here? Wait downstairs. The person I assign will collect you. Surely the three of you aren’t so dull that you haven’t realized you’re interrupting my reading and peace."

"A small problem," Rex raised a finger, and then lowered it again. "I came here to meet with you."

"Don’t push it, Demigod. I’m already being a kind host."

"I’m not going anywhere until you give me what I want."

Rex threaded the floor, walking confidently towards the Warden’s desk.

Even when Lilliana tried to stop him by pinching his arm, he continued onward without any care in the world, even when the Warden was giving him a sharp look. He stepped onto the soft carpet, pulled the chair, and sat down with a satisfied exhale through his mouth.

"It felt completely normal," Rex commented as he looked down at the chair. "I thought the Wardens were someone respected under the Weaver of Time—so I expect the living space of one to be incredibly good, but I guess my expectations are too high."

"Bold..." The Warden leaned forward, and his eyes narrowed further. "But you’re acting too brazenly."

"And you’re acting like a stingy old man."

"Old man...?"

Almost instantly, the temperature inside the room dropped sharply.

It plummeted so sharply that Davina and Lilliana felt it on their skin like a slap of winter wind, except there was no wind. Only cold. A deep, invasive cold that bypassed the flesh—and sank into something deeper inside him.

Sank into his soul.

The Warden’s aura unfurled across the chamber—an invisible tide of suppression that pressed down on the air itself, thickening it, making every breath a labour. And to their surprise, time around them slowed down visibly, but they weren’t influenced.

Across the room, the floating lanterns flickered in slow-motion.

And the big hourglass also moved more slowly.

But Rex’s group could hear their own heartbeats were beating normally, and so did their bodies.

Most auras carried heat, but the Warden’s aura was different. It was ice. Not the ice of a frozen lake, but more like a force that stopped their senses from experiencing heat. Even now, Rex’s vision was utterly drowned by warning notifications.

Naturally, the System was warning him of the danger he was in.

But he didn’t react.

Even when his chest felt like it was being pressed down hard, he tried to breathe normally.

Rex was not intimidated at all.

Being in the presence of countless powerful entities had sharpened Rex’s instincts. His sixth sense had learned to separate one danger from another. Separate true killing intent from mere intimidation. And right now, the Warden radiated only the latter.

There was no desire to kill here even though it looked like there was.

And that was the card Rex intended to play.

A button that he was going to push to create a bit of excitement.

His eyes drifted away from the Warden, lazy and unhurried, and settled on a small glass jar on the edge of the table. Inside were glowing green candies. He leaned forward in a casual, almost insolent manner, and opened the lid.

The faint clink of glass was the only sound in the deathly silence.

Then, he reached inside, plucked out a single wrapped piece, and peeled the wrapper back with slow—deliberate fingers. The candy vanished between his lips, and he settled back into his chair—sucking out the flavour with a faint, satisfied click of his tongue.

It tasted sour, but delicious in a way.

A taste that fully woke up the mind like an espresso in the morning.

<Notice: the user was influenced by the Millennium Candy>

<Gained boosted ability-mastery for one thousand years>

Rex wasn’t expecting to get anything from the candy as it was placed inside a mere vessel—that didn’t look like anything important. But the moment his eyes landed on the notification, Rex almost broke out of his character.

Ability-mastery boost?! I really needed that.

He was in dire need of time and something that could help him increase his mastery.

It was one of the reasons he went to the Weaver of Time’s realm.

For him to gain it out of sheer coincidence—was never within his expectations, and now he understood that the candy he’d eaten was something extraordinarily precious. He stole a quick glance at the Warden. Not a flicker of concern—the ancient being didn’t seem bothered at all.

And that’s good.

It would be bad for him if the candies were actual treasures that the Warden valued.

Something like this shouldn’t be anything valuable to him.

On top of the boost, Rex could feel his mind-clarity and perception were boosted to the absolute limit.

It felt like he could read a million books and remembered it without mistaking a single word.

Rex cleared his throat and leaned back on the chair—he sucked the candy in his mouth and clasped both his hands above his thighs. "Am I wrong?" He asked. "Who knows how long someone with the power of time as you had lived? You’re obviously an old man."

"I’ve never seen someone as brazen as you."

"That’s the point, isn’t it? I need to do something to stand out to get your attention."

"And your method to do that was to court death?"

"Please." Rex’s inward cackle barely touched his lips. "If you truly wanted me dead, you’d have done it already. Just like when you plunged me into your Temporal Labyrinth. And if you had done that, you would also realize by now that attempting to kill me isn’t a good idea."

"Not a good idea?" The Warden closed the book before him and leaned back. "How so?’

"Do you think I am this confident—because I simply want your attention? It’s also because I can handle myself."

For a second, the Warden stared at Rex, trying to see whether he was playing around.

’He did have the Space Breaker ability; that meant he had a high standing within the Primordial Meadow. But he’s weak and young,’ He thought inside, sizing Rex up. ’What other things can he possibly possess to make him this confident?’

"You don’t look like you believe me," Rex said—and then pointed at his forehead with his index finger. "Why don’t you try to look into my mind and scour my past?"

The Warden regarded Rex with cold, ancient skepticism.

It had been a long time—longer than most civilizations lasted—since anyone had visited him in his own home. He would entertain this one. Once. If Rex proved to be a sham, if he possessed nothing of worth, then the Warden would cast him and his companions out without a second thought.

No need to waste more precious time on pretenders.

He reached out with his power and peered into Rex’s mind. The surface memories parted like mist, and what lay beneath was a path carved in pain and soaked in rage. Blood. Suffering. Loss. From the earliest accessible moments, Rex had known nothing but violence—a life shaped by the brutal arithmetic of survival.

The Warden moved through these memories without sentiment, cataloguing the horrors with the detachment of a scholar. Tragedy upon tragedy. A man forged in fire and quenched in the blood of his enemies.

Then he reached further back. The Mortal Realm. A dark forest. An explosion that shattered bone and tore flesh. Rex’s broken body lay at the edge of death, life bleeding out into the cold earth.

And then—nothing.

The Warden frowned. A distortion. A disturbance in the flow of memory, like a knot tied in the fabric of time itself. Something blocked him. Something refused him entry. He pressed harder, channeling more power into the probe, and found the same wall.

Again. Again. The moment replayed, and each time the distortion held. Impenetrable. Absolute.

He withdrew and met Rex’s eyes.

The skepticism in his gaze had thinned, replaced by the first faint edge of something sharper. Curiosity. Or unease.

Rex’s voice broke the silence, calm and unhurried. "See my future."

The Warden turned his inner gaze forward. Past the present, past the breath, into the river of what was to come. And he saw nothing. Not darkness in the way of shadows or absence of light, but a void. A blank expanse where possibility should have been, where fate should have unspooled its infinite threads.

There was no future.

Not one he could see.

Something had sealed it. Something had forbidden even his ancient eyes from glimpsing what lay ahead.

For the first time in a very long time, the Warden was stunned. The cold aura around him flickered—just for an instant—and his silence was heavier than any word he could have spoken. He looked at Rex as if seeing him for the first time, and what he saw was a question he could not answer.

’What is this creature in front of me?’

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