THE VILLAIN'S POV Chapter 775 The Age of Destruction

Even though the cosmos stretches endlessly in every direction, it often seems surprisingly confined at times.

The events unfolding in Helmond rippled through the entire realm in mere moments. Before long, tales of the incident—and the fierce confrontation that altered Helmond's landscape forever—reached every corner.

The Great Ones had boldly stormed a forbidden territory untouched since ancient times, despite the Demon King's own presence within it.

Typically, the mere mention of Agaroth would scare off any such ambitions, but the Great Ones ignored that fear entirely. For the very first time, Odin stepped forth personally and waged his inaugural documented fight.

To the various races, Odin remained an utter enigma. He existed only as an old fable, a tale whispered by elders and preserved in artifacts from bygone eras.

All details concerning him stayed shrouded in mystery. Ranked at the bottom of the Seven Supreme Powers as a mere formality, no one grasped the full scope of his might or his hidden potentials.

Yet now, a terrifying peek had been revealed to the world... a hint at the horrors of the entity dubbed the Pale Devastation.

Odin's debut clash pitted him directly against the Demon King Agaroth. Though their duel concluded without a victor, Odin held his ground evenly against the Demon King, dominating much of the exchange.

This feat alone sent shockwaves through the realms. No one since Nameless had dared—or managed—to match Agaroth blow for blow.

Odin's display compelled the overseers of the Seven Supreme Powers' hierarchy to reassess his standing entirely.

Boasting power sufficient to rival the Demon King, and commanding absolute loyalty from every Great One under his sway, Odin now loomed as a disaster rivaling the Demon King in scale. The Great Ones themselves surged to an unpredictable menace level, possibly surpassing even the demonic hordes.

Consequently, the entire list of the Seven Supreme Powers underwent a total overhaul. Midir lost his top spot, with Odin proclaimed the mightiest among them—marking only the third entity in history to claim that title, following Pure Vessel and Midir.

The assault on Helmond laid waste to huge swaths of the Demon Planet, claiming the lives of countless millions of demons at minimum.

The ferocious duel transformed Helmond's very face, and amid the Demon King's showdown with the Great Ones' overlord, one Duke of Hell met his end. The First Demon, Manus, turned up slain under baffling conditions.

Manus stood as a singular force. As the original demon, he had once terrorized the stars in a frenzy of destruction.

Centuries back, however, he retreated from the fray and entered a deep slumber, confining himself eternally to Helmond.

Over time, his once-vast strength waned sharply, drained by every demon spawned from his essence, each drawing on his vitality across the ages.

This left him inert and mute, isolated from all contact, akin to a withered elder stripped of sanity and recollection.

In deference to his storied legacy, the demons upheld his dignity with the Duke of Hell title, though truth be told, Manus ranked as the frailest among the present Dukes. He paled against behemoths like Gael, the Abyss's progenitor, or the elusive Maskeith.

This peculiar targeting sparked endless speculation on his selection and the Great Ones' motives for his demise.

The Demon King offered no comments, yet it was evident he harbored insights into the Great Ones' deeper aims.

Their singular purpose rang clear: resurrecting their lord, Odin, into the mortal plane. Manus's death proved essential to that end... no alternative fit the puzzle.

While the demons endured heavy setbacks, the Great Ones reeled from a catastrophic strike too. Out of the fifty who breached Helmond, Agaroth felled forty-one, sparing just nine survivors.

With their total ranks hovering shy of a hundred, it was no overstatement that the Demon King had decimated almost half their kind single-handedly.

The loss of forty-one Great Ones—each a pinnacle SSS-class powerhouse—eclipsed the slaughter of mere millions of lowly demons in gravity.

Thus, judging the Helmond incursion's outcome as triumph or disaster proved utterly impossible.

This upheaval struck mere days after Earth's turmoil, signaling the realm's plunge into a turbulent era of change.

Notably, despite their awe-inspiring exploits, beings like Saint German never joined the Seven Supreme Powers. Nameless and his bizarre followers shared the same exclusion as the Demon King and his exalted council.

Hence, Nameless and his devotees never factored into the Seven at all.

Time marched onward, day by day, as the era of conflict roared back to life... across the Uncharted Continent, teeming with cosmic giants, and on Earth, where the climactic showdown loomed ever closer.

Sixty-seven days lingered until the Shattering.

...

...

...

Back on Earth, within the Ultras Continent, the War of Darkness drew to a close at last. The Empire-Ultras feud concluded in what appeared as a stalemate or shared ruin.

External influences now steered the chaos completely.

The Ultras bowed to the influx of High-Ranking Demons assuming control, as the Empire crumbled utterly, thrusting humanity beneath the Shadow Sect's dominion.

The showdown's end handed the Shadow Sect a resounding win. They dispatched three High-Ranking Demons, reclaimed Abraham Starlight, and unleashed a demonic nemesis beast upon the fray.

Under Gehrman’s command, the Shadow Sect held firm dominance for now, compelling the demon faction to scramble with urgent countermeasures.

With Wesker toppled, the eleventh-ranked Amon seized unchallenged rule over the demons and Ultras alike.

Flanking him were the ninth-ranked Nito, the third-ranked Vayne, plus a host of fresh demon arrivals...

This latest contingent included one of the most reviled demons alive—a horrifying fiend tasked for the impending apocalypse.

As he burst from the warp gate, the Ultras Continent's air thickened oppressively. His aura choked the breath from all, laced with a murderous aura beyond compare.

Amon awaited his arrival personally, joined by an Ultras escort. Every human there collapsed unconscious the second they sensed him.

He resembled a fluid shadow more than flesh and blood. His form comprised swirling veils of inky blackness and void-like substance. Only his visage broke the monotony—a pallid mask bearing three yawning voids for eyes.

Lacking mouth or nostrils, just those vacant sockets. Still, his radiating slaughter aura dwarfed all others, a testament to the countless lives he had reaped.

The slayer... Helmond's premier murderer—one of the Dukes of Hell.

Vex.

"I see you're still a savage who can't even control his killing intent," Amon said coldly, hands clasped behind his back, his face concealed under a mask, as he rebuked his fellow Duke of Hell.

Vex had long earned infamy as Helmond's deadliest killer... a loathsome wretch Amon had always scorned. But the slayer remained unmoved.

"Stop spouting nonsense and give me a name," Vex replied indifferently.

His voice came as a whisper, scarcely heard—like a grating metallic scrape that clawed at the listeners' ears.

"I don't have a name. I have names. But since you're so eager to begin your work, bring me the head of Saint Gehrman."

Amon handed over the target, which sufficed for Vex entirely.

In a flash, he melted into the earth, slipping through its myriad fissures like a shadow reclaiming its essence.

As Vex faded from sight, Amon exhaled in frustration.

"I hope he dies this time."

Amon's loathing for Vex ran profound—not just from clashing factions between Dukes of Hell and High Seats, but from a visceral revulsion.

He despised Vex on a fundamental level, offering zero regard for him as a fighter.

Amon revered raw power. He held utter contempt for backstabbing lurkers like Vex.

That shadowy abomination had, before, slain superiors through cunning assassination and deadly precision alone.

As Amon gazed at Vex's vanishing point, Vayne drew near from the rear.