THE VILLAIN'S POV Chapter 740: Against the Joker (2)

A singular realization held Gehrman back from launching an assault.

The logic was uncomplicated, stemming from a past conversation he had once held with a particular individual.

Long ago, during the chaotic era of war when Nameless still drew breath, Gehrman had found himself in the company of a strange man.

This individual was a bizarre sight; his entire physical form was constructed from dark metal, making him appear more like a sentient weapon than a man. He was a peerless vessel, perhaps the most deranged yet durable masterpiece ever forged by Nameless.

Though the exterior was coarse and unpolished, the soul inhabiting it was purely chaotic and utterly insane.

During one of their meetings, Gehrman and this man had discussed an unusual topic: the circumstances of their previous deaths.

It was a fascinating exchange between two titans—Gehrman, the Number One of the Shadow Sect, and Alexander Rybak, the Number Two and Master of Martial Arts.

"You’re incredible, Gehrman," Alexander remarked, leaning heavily against their shared table. "Your final battle was against the Demon King himself—no lesser foe."

The environment surrounding them looked nothing like Earth. Above them, the sky was stained a deep, bloody crimson.

Alexander Rybak swayed as he gulped down an exotic drink, grumbling as he always did about how the liquid lacked flavor now that he lacked his original, deceased body.

"Oh... are you curious about how I met my end?" Alexander asked between swallows. "It isn't a thrilling tale. There was no glorious finale for me. My killer wasn't the Demon King, nor was it one of the Ten Seats or the Dukes of Hell."

"Pathetic, isn’t it?"

It was clear from Alexander's grimace that he took no pleasure in recounting the event.

"I died while protecting my homeland from a demonic scourge," he explained. "I was holding the line quite well—I'm no weakling, after all. Everything was under control until he showed up."

Alexander’s brow furrowed as his tone turned somber. "He was a demon in a mask. I had no records of him, no knowledge of his existence. We fought as equals, and I was forced to exert every ounce of my power just to seize the advantage."

"However, the fight concluded the second he activated his ability."

"It was a curse... a dark mark on my legacy."

Talking about it clearly pained Alexander Rybak. That specific defeat was the greatest regret of his life because he had been vanquished without understanding the cause. After his passing, Alexander’s memory was a total blank from the moment his foe unleashed that power.

In essence, Alexander Rybak—a warrior capable of suppressing several of the Seven Great Powers—had been slain without ever knowing how he died.

That disgrace haunted him eternally.

"He looks unassuming... but he’s extremely dangerous," Alexander cautioned. "He sports a smiling mask and wears black attire. His aura seems mediocre at first glance—but there is a monster hidden behind that porcelain face."

"I’ve never heard you praise someone so highly," Gehrman noted with surprise.

Alexander’s voice grew stern. "Gehrman... if you ever cross paths with him, be wary. My instincts warn me that the demon is concealing something truly gruesome."

Those cautionary words remained etched in Gehrman’s mind for years. Eventually, the Great War flared up and concluded without that masked demon ever resurfacing. In time, Gehrman had pushed the memory aside.

But in this moment...

Returning to the present, Gehrman stood in a state of total alertness. No matter how much he scrutinized Amon, he couldn't shake Alexander Rybak’s warning from his thoughts.

Amon stayed quiet, observing Gehrman with the same intensity he was being observed with. The silence was eventually broken.

"Did one of your comrades tell you about me?"

Gehrman’s gaze sharpened instantly, a reaction that served as confirmation for Amon.

"That explains why you are being so excessively cautious," Amon remarked with a calm air. "What a shame... it would have been much better if you had charged in blindly so I could end this quickly."

Without warning, Amon nonchalantly raised his hands and began to clap. "You chose wisely, Saint. I am Amon... the Host of Nightmares and an Eleventh-Rank High Demon."

"Every opponent I have met thus far looked down on me the moment my rank was revealed."

"And every one of them died by my hand... completely helpless to stop it."

"Tell me, Saint..."

Gehrman’s frame shook violently as Amon’s voice suddenly hissed directly into his ear.

"...will you be the exception?"

Before he could even process the movement, Amon was positioned right behind him.

Gehrman reacted immediately, leaping backward at his top speed. "...!"

In that heartbeat, Gehrman’s composure fractured as he lost the initiative entirely.

‘How did he get behind me?!’

He hadn't seen a blur or felt a ripple in the air. Amon had been presented with the perfect opening for a killing blow, yet he had intentionally passed it up.

This was a catastrophic situation.

"Since ancient times, I have declined to rise in the hierarchy," Amon stated with indifference as Gehrman retreated, visibly rattled. "I stayed at Rank Eleven because it serves as the threshold to the Top Ten High Demons."

"By doing so, I ensured no weakling could ever infiltrate the upper echelons. Anyone seeking to ascend had to get past me first."

"That is how the Top Ten maintained their prestige... untainted by the mediocre."

"But as of today..."

"The Tenth is gone. The Fourth has been defeated."

"It makes me wonder... was any of my gatekeeping actually worth it?"

"Our father—the Demon King—split us into two separate paths."

"My older brother was tasked with the Great Ones and that mysterious new continent—the primary threats."

"I was assigned to deal with the leftovers of the Shadow Sect and Nameless... the secondary concern."

"I thought Wesker would be sufficient for the task."

"But he was a disappointment."

Amon spoke these revelations to Gehrman as if they were trivialities. However, with every sentence, Gehrman’s face grew paler as he pieced together a terrifying fact.

"Are you saying... that the brother you mentioned is—"

"My name is Amon," he interrupted softly. "I am the younger brother of the Red Moon, Crimson—the one you know as the First of the High-Ranking Demons."

Amon’s true lineage was revealed.

The gravity of the battle shifted instantly. The sibling of such a nightmare would inevitably be a monster in his own right.

"Pardon me, Saint," Amon said with a chilling tone. "I’m not in the best of moods today... so let’s conclude this swiftly."

The moment the words left his lips, Amon vanished once more, reappearing behind Gehrman with that same impossible speed.