THE VILLAIN'S POV Chapter 739: Against the Joker (1)

The field of battle devolved into utter anarchy, and any foresight regarding the coming moments vanished entirely.

Within a fleeting window of time, the clash had been disrupted by the arrival of several powerful entities.

Fulgor had manifested out of thin air, repelling the Third Rank, Vayne. With nothing but raw, irresistible force, a solitary strike from him had sent her hurtling all the way toward the lunar surface.

Meanwhile, the Ninth Rank, Nito, found his devastating orbital bombardments halted. Snow Lionheart had stepped in to intercept and restrain him, neutralizing his long-range threat.

And now, on the ground below...

Standing in the path of the Eleventh Rank were only Gehrman and Abraham.

That opponent was Amon.

Frey Starlight witnessed these events unfolding while still clutching Ada tightly against him. He was desperately trying to stabilize his internal state and recover after pushing his limits to unlock two more stages of Shadow Adaptation.

Despite the time he had taken to catch his breath, his limbs refused to move with their usual fluidity.

“Damn it... everything is spiraling out of control, and I’m stuck here being useless...”

He spat a curse under his breath as he stood up, carefully cradling Ada. Using what little strength he could muster, Frey began a swift retreat to put distance between them and the epicenter of the fighting, his features twisted with worry.

“The Third Rank Vayne, the Ninth Rank Nito, and the Eleventh Rank Amon have all appeared... this is truly the worst possible turn of events!”

At the very least, Vayne had been forced off the immediate battlefield.

“And Nito has been intercepted as well... was that Snow’s doing?”

Squinting his eyes, Frey realized the specific radiance he had observed could only belong to one person. However, that thought brought him no comfort.

“Snow isn't at a level where he can survive a duel against the Ninth Rank. Engaging him like that is nothing short of a suicide mission...”

Ever since Snow had embraced his true path and reclaimed his status as a Pure Vessel, his power had been roughly on par with Frey’s. But even that strength had proven insufficient against Zibar, the Tenth Rank; Nito was an even more formidable monster.

The stakes were terrifyingly high.

Yet, the most unsettling factor wasn't the duel between Snow and Nito. It was something else entirely.

As he moved away, Frey glanced over his shoulder toward the confrontation occurring on the terrain behind him. Gehrman and his father were braced against the masked demon, Amon.

On paper, being the Eleventh Rank meant Amon should have been significantly weaker than both Gehrman and Abraham. That was the logical hierarchy of power.

Nonetheless, a heavy sense of dread pooled in Frey’s stomach every time he looked at that masked figure. Something felt fundamentally wrong.

As for the demon himself...

Amon had dodged Fulgor’s initial assault with effortless grace. Now, he drifted forward slowly, his hands clasped casually behind his back. The mask he wore acted as an impenetrable barrier, hiding any hint of his emotions from the world.

“Hmmm... it appears the Shadow Sect still harbors strength that defies my expectations.”

Amon’s voice was eerily steady. He tilted his head back, looking first toward the fractured moon where Fulgor was suppressing Vayne, and then toward the sky where Nito and Snow were locked in combat.

“A Light Bearer? Now that is a rarity.”

Snow Lionheart stood out as an anomaly. While his current power wasn't an immediate catastrophe for their side, the nature of his energy was disturbingly similar to the highest-tier Light Bearers—perhaps even echoing the Lord of Light himself, though such a thought was a bit of a stretch given the boy's current Cultivation.

Amon observed him for a moment before his gaze shifted with absolute finality toward a different target.

“You are Saint Gehrman, correct?”

His focus was now locked onto the blue-eyed Engineer.

Gehrman’s eyes narrowed as he silently circulated his Qi, readying himself for the worst.

“Is my assessment wrong?” Amon asked once more when the silence stretched on.

Finally, a small, faint smirk played on Gehrman’s lips as he spoke.

“My apologies. It has been a long time since anyone addressed me by that name.”

To the demon race, he was usually dismissed as nothing more than a lackey of Nameless. His true identity was rarely acknowledged. Yet, Amon had identified him without hesitation.

The masked demon brought one hand forward, his palm open in a relaxed, conversational gesture.

“Naturally, I recognize you. Your reputation precedes you.”

“You are among the select few who have stood directly before the Great King.”

“Furthermore, you once battled my elder brother as an equal. He spoke of those encounters frequently.”

Amon spoke at length, his demeanor so cordial it felt as though he were catching up with an old friend. All around them, the other battles reached a fever pitch, sending violent ripples of aura through the atmosphere. Amon, however, seemed completely unbothered by the surrounding carnage.

Gehrman mirrored that stillness, refusing to be provoked into an opening move.

“I don't put much stock in the flattery of demons,” Gehrman replied flatly. “However, you just mentioned something quite interesting.”

His gaze turned icy as he pressed further.

“Who exactly is this ‘brother’ of yours? I have no memory of fighting anyone of your kind.”

While he spoke, Gehrman saturated his physical form with aura. Nearby, Abraham also held his ground. Having drained much of his strength in previous fights, he was biding his time, carefully studying the enemy for a vulnerability to exploit.

Yet, neither the Saint nor the demon made a move to strike.

‘What are they waiting for...?’ Abraham thought with growing agitation, his mind racing with concern for his family’s safety.

Amon didn't radiate an overwhelming pressure. His very existence seemed plain, and his aura felt remarkably average. Why was Gehrman being so hesitant? It defied common sense.

Amon remained poised, watching Gehrman intently after the question was posed.

“Gehrman... you truly are a wary individual,” he finally noted, taking a single step forward.

In perfect synchronization, Gehrman stepped back, maintaining the exact same gap between them.

“I admire men of your sort—those who weigh every variable and refuse to gamble on a whim.”

“Despite the fact that I am merely the Eleventh Rank, you still refuse to engage.”

“That is because you are no fool.”

The demon's compliment sounded genuine.

“Before I satisfy your curiosity, Saint Gehrman, there is something I wish to know.”

“Why do you hesitate? Why not simply step forward and end my life?”

“After all, I am only the Eleventh Rank.”

It was a valid point. Logically, anyone ranked below the top ten should be no match for someone of Gehrman’s caliber. Yet Gehrman stayed rooted to the spot.

“Why?”

He let out a slow, controlled breath, keeping his heart rate steady. In truth, he possessed very little information regarding Amon. But it didn't take a genius to realize that this demon was an outlier.

And beyond that intuition...

There was another specific reason for his caution.