THE VILLAIN'S POV Chapter 748: Gehrman and Abraham vs Amon (2)

"Why so surprised?" Gehrman asked lightly while stretching his limbs.

"Didn't you mention it earlier? Folks like me always hold onto a secret weapon."

He tugged aside his robe, exposing his torso.

There, embedded—was a blue ring shaped like a clock, with its pointers stuck motionless.

Amon identified it right away.

"So that's your time-manipulating power..."

"Spot on," Gehrman answered, moving back into the fray.

"My older brother told me about it," Amon remarked with a quiet chuckle. "Yet I never imagined its strength was this immense..."

He let out another soft laugh.

"Strong enough to pull you back from the brink of death."

"Don't talk nonsense," Gehrman shot back icily. "Coming back from death isn't possible. What I did was halt time for my body at one moment—and I can revert to that moment anytime I choose."

"Put simply, I never truly perished."

"...Hoh? Impressive indeed."

Amon felt real admiration.

Gehrman's control over time was seriously formidable—this revelation alone forced Amon to regard him with much greater caution.

Meanwhile, Gehrman was anything but okay, despite his composed facade.

'I wanted to avoid tapping into time powers and handle this just with ice... These abilities put massive pressure on my form.'

His eyes scanned his body in different spots... fissures had appeared all over, injuries showed clearly, and an odd fluid, much like blood, seeped from the wounds.

'Facing a foe like him... winning without these powers is out of reach. But what other option exists?'

Gehrman shifted his attention to Abraham.

'Abraham's got power—but he's worn out. His strikes won't truly endanger Amon, even if exposing that move was noteworthy.'

While Gehrman pondered deeply, Amon advanced a step closer, locking his focus entirely on him now... the bigger danger.

Gehrman held his ground without flinching.

'To get through this, we must stall until the cycle of death starts spinning... though I can't predict when that'll occur.'

'Essentially... I'll have to withstand this fiend as long as I can. I can't afford to fall—and he mustn't claim Frey or Abraham.'

Gehrman balled his hand into a fist, plastering a tense grin on his features.

"Such a hassle..."

He pondered—

When had he last been backed into a corner this way?

The initial memory that surfaced...

The clash with a particular demon...

'Ever since battling Crimson... and now facing his sibling—if he really is related.'

"Finished with your strategies?" Amon inquired evenly. "I'm coming at you now."

He reached out his arm.

"Be careful!!" Abraham yelled. "That blow's ridiculously swift!!"

"I get it," Gehrman responded.

His gaze ignited with a fierce azure light as he expanded his aura into a precise one-meter sphere surrounding him in every direction.

Simultaneously, Amon unleashed his assault.

His punch surged forth...

Far too rapid to track.

Far too rapid to counter.

Gehrman understood this more than anyone.

Thus... he swiftly saturated that one-meter zone with a massive surge of frost aura.

Tapping into the huge aura stores granted by Fulghor, Gehrman unleashed the thickest frost at his command...

Not in the form of hard ice...

But as a crushing, choking fog of packed frost.

As this unfolded, Amon's blistering strike approached once more... directed right at him.

In a flash, Amon's fist breached the frost territory.

The blow brimmed with immense force, slicing far into Gehrman’s frozen zone effortlessly—until it halted mere inches from his visage.

Yet in that final instant... as the surroundings appeared suspended by pure velocity...

Gehrman jerked his head slightly to the side at the last possible second, dodging the hit by sheer luck.

Riding the leftover force, he countered right away... but Amon parried it without effort, pulling back swiftly.

This entire exchange unfolded in a blink.

From a distance, Abraham observed in utter astonishment.

And the element that stunned him above all... was how Gehrman had managed to avoid that strike whatsoever.

"That guy... he outpaced the speed of that punch!"

"No—he didn't surpass it," Amon countered at once, his tone laced with both astonishment and thrill.

"Your speed wasn't quicker than my fist... you decelerated it!"

"Heh... just about," Gehrman answered with a chuckle, settling back into his guard position, alert for any abrupt move.

Amon readied another punch.

"That frost zone wasn't designed to halt my assault—but to reduce its pace! Enough for your agility and instincts to slip away. So cunning!"

Gehrman had intentionally formed his ice in a fluid state.

If it had been rigid, Amon’s strike would have shattered through without any loss of momentum.

Yet by crafting it into a highly packed, vaporous shape, the attack felt the impact of the ultra-chilled area—its speed diminished by a tiny margin, sufficient for Gehrman to weave aside.

It stemmed from the razor-sharp wits of the Shadow Sect’s top tactician.

"Keep it going!"

Amon dashed ahead at maximum velocity, as Gehrman breathed out yet another veil of frost, bolstering his straightforward—but potent—territory.

The pair dashed at horrifying speeds, with Gehrman sidestepping every assault by the slimmest margin.

In the meantime, Abraham dashed forward to lend aid, now grasping fully what Gehrman had pulled off.

The instant Abraham showed up at his rear, Amon whirled around without delay.

"Idiot! You can't dodge it the way he managed!"

Amon fired off his rapid strike—but Abraham replied with a menacing smirk.

"And who says so?"

BOOOOOOM!!!

Suddenly, a huge blast rang out as Amon’s fist smashed into an unseen shield.

Although it broke through, Abraham twisted away in time and swung his blade toward the demon’s flank.

Amon caught the sword with his spare hand... but Gehrman chased it with a quick hit, hurling Amon back.

Amon steadied himself in no time.

As his eyes fixed on Abraham again, he at last comprehended the trick.

"He... mimicked Saint Gehrman’s approach with his personal skill!"

Amon’s assessment hit the mark.

Abraham’s shield was the Dawn Barrier, though he had squeezed it down greatly, encasing it snugly over his frame.

In this shrunken form, the shield lacked the strength to completely block the blow—but it drained much less aura and, crucially, granted Abraham a brief window.

When Amon’s fist hit the shield, a parallel effect to Gehrman’s frost zone took place... the punch lost just enough speed for Abraham to slip past.

"Hahahaha!! You foes are such fun!!" Amon bellowed with joy.

Gehrman and Abraham alike were keen, insightful, and brilliantly sharp.

"You've gone beyond what I anticipated, Abraham. I never figured you'd copy my tactic so quickly," Gehrman noted.

Abraham shot back without pause,

"Save the compliments. We're still on the back foot. Up to now, we haven't inflicted any real harm on him."

Abraham spoke true—and Gehrman recognized it clearly.

The inventor's gaze sparkled as his thoughts whirled, frantically hunting for a scheme.

'From what Alexander Rybak shared... Amon wields a reality-shattering power of dreadful might—so intense that Rybak fell the instant it activated.'

'Rybak held enough strength that even at my best, I'd have faced trouble against him... Meaning, that demon’s reality-shattering power is so dominant that deploying it seals the battle right away.'

'That's the direst outcome imaginable.'

'However—there's a vital clue. He hasn't deployed it so far. That suggests two options...'

'Maybe he deems it unnecessary and trusts he can triumph without it...

Or—his power brings heavy drawbacks. A recoil. Unavoidable harm. Something that stops him from invoking it except in desperation.'

Gehrman’s logic drew from Alexander Rybak’s past words to him.

That sufficed for the blue-eyed inventor to craft highly probable theories.

For an instant, the former option appeared probable... but Gehrman favored the latter.

It came from gut feeling... forged in experience and endless prior fights.

And he resolved to bet on it.

"Back me up, Abraham!" Gehrman called out as he lunged ahead, with Abraham right on his heels.

Amon dropped into a fighting pose, greeting them with a smirk.

"At last, you're going on the offensive! Show me your true prowess!"

The trio rushed at each other, unleashing floods of SSS-tier aura.

Versus the 11th-ranked High Demon—

The fight hit its pivotal climax.