THE VILLAIN'S POV Chapter 745: A World Worth Destroying

Previously on THE VILLAIN'S POV...

Frey Starlight, reeling from the horror of discovering Clana and Danzo's tormented souls imprisoned within him, grapples with the agony of his past actions that doomed them to eternal suffering rather than salvation. Nameless witnesses Frey's overwhelming grief and rage, a mere fragment of which pierces his own stoic heart, as he explains the sixth stage of Shadow Adaptation—burning souls to shatter the boundaries of life and death, demanding a life-for-life balance. Despite the unbearable weight, Frey rises and unleashes violet flames upon the sea of corpses, consuming all without distinction, his eyes transforming into hollow voids that mirror Nameless's monstrous past. In his turmoil, Frey reflects on his futile struggles to protect his loved ones, haunted by failures that have turned him into the tormentor he sought to defeat.

Everything traces back to me.

The source of all this pain for everyone.

Had I not been part of their lives... maybe they could have dodged this terrible end.

The blood runs deep... and it refuses to wash away.

It will just keep spreading further.

I need to press on without pause.

I lack any permission to halt... or to flee from this unavoidable path any longer.

"To push ahead, I have to crush them beneath my feet...

incinerate their spirits, right to the final one."

To seize strength, I must inflict agony on them.

Inflict suffering on others.

Nourish this fixation inside me... allow it to swell bigger and bigger.

"I’ll pile this void with bodies... until it overflows completely."

I have no idea how many more lives I’ll need to end for that to happen.

"But that’s okay," I rasped, a bitter chuckle slipping from my mouth.

"That’s okay."

It seemed like the entire world was forcing me along this route.

And if that’s how it stands...

"I’m not the guilty one here.

This world is."

A corrupt realm.

A polluted, unfair realm.

A realm where nobody can pick their own path...

one dominated by mighty forces from on high, entities bold and overbearing enough to dictate the futures of whole peoples and lands.

And I’m just another pawn caught in that control.

A stream of destiny laid out for me...

one I could never break free from.

"These hands of mine will shatter this world... and forge a new one."

"A world where my sister Ada... my father... and everyone else can exist in safety, free from any danger to their lives."

For that dream, I don’t mind turning into a beast.

A fiend.

"I will build that world... or perish in the attempt."

With this fresh purpose etched deep into my being,

I made my initial move ahead.

Purple fires burst around my form, and a fearsome might rushed out—powered by the blazing souls.

An immense rush of vigor poured into my bloodstream, and finally, I grasped why the higher levels of Shadow Adaptation stood apart.

Every stage marked the ultimate height that rebellious abilities could attain.

"Now I possess six."

I still didn’t understand the effect of the fifth stage...

But I was sure the upcoming clash would reveal it.

"Armed with this might... I’ll make it happen."

In one stride, I shattered the earth under me and closed the gap to the fight zone.

"Time to test the full extent of this strength."

...

While Frey stirred to life with his fresh abilities...

The conflict in another spot hit its peak.

In general, the Shadow Sect gained no edge.

Except for Fulghor, who overpowered Vine through raw might...

Snow Lionheart lagged far behind Nito.

And Gehrman, alongside Abraham, stood no chance against a beast like Amon.

Amon’s dominance was crushing...

so much so that Gehrman grew convinced his power outstripped even Wesker and Vine.

The clash tilted heavily one way.

The blue-eyed warrior could only dodge, drawing on his incredible swiftness. He failed to launch any solid retaliation or harm Amon in the least.

Abraham struggled just as much.

He couldn’t connect his sword with the fiend at all... Amon parried each blow with ridiculous simplicity.

The odds stacked fully against them.

"This is bad... I already deployed the Hand of the Ruler on Wesker. It’ll be a while before I can call on it again."

In a showdown like this, the Hand of the Ruler served as Gehrman’s top tool against horrors like Amon.

"My remaining strikes won’t pierce his guard..."

If Gehrman had fought at full capacity, the outcome might have shifted.

Even lacking the Hand of the Ruler, he could have carved a path to victory.

The peril loomed large...

Still, Gehrman showed no trace of despair.

And that drew Amon’s focus.

"You really possess ironclad resolve, Saint Gehrman... Those eyes of yours don’t scream a loser on the edge," Amon remarked, his stare sharpening.

Simultaneously, he lifted his palm, sending out a surge of shadowy energy that casually blocked Abraham’s ambush.

Abraham had lurked for the ideal chance... but it all came to nothing.

"You’re concealing something, right?" Amon inquired with icy calm.

Gehrman balled his hand, holding steady his composed face.

As Gehrman stayed silent, Amon pressed on.

"I’ve heard Nameless can briefly commandeer his host... That’s what took down Zibar before. Is that your backup plan?"

"You chatter excessively," Gehrman snapped with irritation.

Amon brushed it aside.

"My apologies. Yet I savor clashes with foes like you... since shattering you makes it all worthwhile."

Gehrman mirrored Wesker closely.

This kind of warrior always layered strategies, secret aces ready to flip the tide anytime... rendering them particularly vexing adversaries.

But Amon thrived on battling such rivals.

For him, it resembled unraveling a riddle—exposing every concealed truth his foe guarded, then smashing them one by one.

"Once your schemes dry up... that’s when the true thrill kicks in."

Watching them in anguish... broken, robbed of assurance... was a delight Amon savored deeply.

"Don’t let me down, Gehrman. I’ve got high hopes pinned on you!"

Amon blurred out of sight.

Gehrman followed suit.

A blistering pursuit ignited... so rapid no unaided eyes could follow.

Concurrently, blasts started ripping through the area, enormous and nightmarish.

Abraham strained to match them, but their pace outran his limits by far.

"They’re both ridiculously quick... almost like they’re blinking in and out of existence," Abraham grumbled, clenching his blade tighter.

He refused to lose his cool.

Rather, he seized the interval to regain as much energy as he could, biding his time for the perfect strike.

Meantime, the hunt between Gehrman and Amon raged on...

with such ferocity they spanned hundreds of miles in seconds flat.

"How much longer will you flee, Saint?" Amon bellowed, slamming through the emptiness.

A whole zone underneath burst apart out of nowhere.

At their velocity, the detonations seemed self-triggered.

Occasionally, the pair streaked over crowded zones in the Empire.

Those folks suffered the worst fate...

turned to ash in an instant, clueless to the cause.

"Gehrman! Right now, the sole edge you have over me is that ridiculous swiftness!" Amon thundered once more, hurling torrents of shadowy ruin from his palms.

Gehrman evaded them all... yet the havoc tore through huge stretches of the Empire.

"Beyond speed, I dominate in all other ways. And even in speed, I’m matching you handily."

"How long can you hold that lead? Eventually, you’ll slip up... and that seals your doom."

"And here’s a tip...

even should your mentor claim the host, I’ll handle him too. So don’t bank on that!"

Amon proved an unrelenting hunter.

Gehrman couldn’t lose him.

"You’re a real pain to hear," Gehrman called during the chase, twisting his gaze while thrusting an arm at Amon.

"So let’s begin by silencing you."