THE VILLAIN'S POV Chapter 841 Nameless vs Agaroth (2)

Nameless amplified his might, just a fraction.

A minuscule aura enveloped him, a sphere spanning mere meters.

It appeared utterly insignificant,

almost trivial even.

Yet Agaroth perceived it instantly—

It was anything but.

The subsequent onslaught arrived in the blink of an eye.

Devastating assaults, poised to obliterate him entirely.

But the instant these attacks met his Domain—

They disintegrated.

Utterly and completely.

The world-shattering strikes fractured as though they had never materialized.

Then, they were reformed.

Redirected.

This time, they impacted one of Agaroth's many decoys surrounding him.

This transpired once.

Then again.

And repeatedly.

Each time a projectile assault breached the Domain, it was unmade… and aimed back at the King's own cadre.

That was the strategy for dealing with the distant threats.

As for the close-quarters assaults—

Not a solitary blow grazed Nameless.

When Agaroth lunged to cleave him, the moment his obsidian blades penetrated the Domain, Nameless' form moved with instinctual precision.

Flawless evasion.

Or perfect defense when evasion was impossible.

And simultaneously—

He struck back.

Agaroth comprehended it at once, grasping Nameless' maneuver.

The true essence of that Domain.

"Four… no, five."

A chilling grin stretched across his visage, alight with both exhilaration and a primal hunger for combat.

The Demon King was commencing his full immersion into the fray.

Nameless' King's Domain was among his most formidable trump cards.

A technique weaving together five world-altering abilities concurrently.

It was the fifth evolution of Shadow Adaptation.

The Void—dictating all potential trajectories.

The third stage—governing internal Qi flow, negating all expenditure within the Domain.

The initial phase—allowing adaptation to incoming attacks, enabling their dissection and unraveling.

The fourth and sixth stages—generating an overwhelming aura, solidifying a Domain impervious to breach or bypass.

A flawless amalgamation.

A transcendent ability, forged under the aegis of Shadow Adaptation.

Nevertheless, wielding such power exacted a toll.

The souls residing within Nameless' being were consumed at a horrifying velocity.

So rapidly… that numerous were utterly extinguished, vanishing without hope of return.

Fortunately—

The immortal soul of Thanatos persisted.

Providing an inexhaustible source of soul-fire.

Nameless sustained all of this…

While still orchestrating the manipulation of life and death across Earth.

This represented a dominion on an unparalleled echelon.

A level the King himself had never attained.

"I always knew… you were the sole individual—"

Agaroth advanced into the King's Domain, crashing against Nameless without hesitation, entirely undeterred by the formidable power encompassing him.

"You are the only one capable of astonishing these eyes… eyes grown weary of this mundane, insignificant mortal realm!"

He lunged forward with his obsidian, incandescent weapon.

Nameless just managed to parry the blow.

Between Agaroth's dark blade and Nameless' ashen one, incandescent sparks erupted.

These were not ordinary sparks—but white, celestial fragments, drifting like cosmic motes.

As if spectral entities were performing within a chaotic theater.

Nameless' void-infused eyes flooded his consciousness with an avalanche of data.

A supreme warrior, confronting Agaroth, his myriad duplicates, and his world-rending capabilities simultaneously.

He broke free from a siege that would have annihilated others countless times over.

The Pursuer continued to propel him onward.

Higher.

His aura output surged with ferocious intensity, compelling Agaroth to elevate his own power in response.

And the battle raged.

An unending conflict… or so it seemed.

For in actuality—

Merely five minutes had elapsed.

Yet within those fleeting moments, the pair exchanged an uncountable number of world-altering blows.

Agaroth remained to the right... unblemished, as every injury inflicted vanished instantaneously.

Nameless stood to the left, vapor rising violently from his form.

A searing mist, as if his very aura had become a celestial furnace on the brink of catastrophic failure.

And in the aftermath of their clash—

Nothing else endured.

Nameless had unraveled every world-breaking strike.

Redeployed them.

Annihilated every semblance of Agaroth before his very sight.

Such a monumental achievement was attainable…

Solely because the adversary was Nameless.

And no other.

A monster invariably remains a monster—

Regardless of circumstance.

And Agaroth grasped this truth more profoundly than any other.

"This is futile," the King vocalized, tilting his head as he gradually withdrew his aura into himself.

"Unless I unleash the Purifier upon you… you will subsist through nearly any onslaught."

"Even in your incomplete condition."

Nameless' gaze sharpened subtly.

A shift had occurred.

The ebb and flow of Qi within Agaroth's body had fundamentally altered—transforming into something he had never previously encountered.

"I have consistently faltered against you in duels," Agaroth stated serenely.

"Regardless of how many sword affinities I assimilated… I could never overcome you with the blade."

"Therefore, this time…"

"I have prepared an alternative."

"Something made… specifically for you."

Agaroth's expression darkened with malice.

His teeth were bared in a wicked grin, compelling Nameless to retreat a step, fully poised for battle.

And then—

It was revealed in its terrifying glory.

The King's very form erupted with a sinister, pitch-black aura.

His encroaching shadows slithered across him, fundamentally altering his shape.

His long, dark cloak dissolved into nothingness.

And in its place... Agaroth manifested in an entirely transformed state.

Immensely larger.

His body was encased in obsidian armor, seemingly fused to his flesh, emblazoned with arcane symbols that defied mortal comprehension.

This formidable armor enveloped him completely.

Extending over his mouth and nose—

Leaving only his piercing crimson eyes and flowing black hair discernible.

Every other feature... was utterly consumed by the unyielding armor.

From his arms, sharp crimson blades thrust outwards.

Two erupted from his hands.

Two more extended from his elbows.

A fearsome form meticulously crafted for deadly duels.

And for nothing else beyond the fight.

The Yaksha Form.

"Try to endure for as long as you can," Agaroth's voice resonated, cold and devoid of emotion, echoing from behind the impenetrable mask.

"I'm not skilled enough… to fully restrain this form's power."

He raised one of his bladed arms, a menacing gesture.

And in a mere instant—

The blade elongated unnaturally.

Like a searing metallic beam, it carved through everything in its destructive path.

Nameless narrowly dodged by the slimmest margin.

The blade continued its relentless trajectory... before snapping back to its original size, as though no extraordinary event had occurred.

Agaroth attacked once more.

A swift, horizontal slash.

The crimson blade extended again, a blur of deadly intent.

This was no ordinary sword strike.

It was something far more terrifying, far more primal.

Nameless narrowly avoided destruction yet again.

But the celestial moon floating beneath him was not so fortunate.

The blade shot forth—

And effortlessly sliced through its luminous surface.

Tearing a massive, gaping section apart.

Nameless countered with a fierce offensive.

He struck out at Agaroth's imposing form.

The King parried with one of his formidable blades, then contorted his body at an unnatural angle, striking from Nameless's unseen blind spot.

Nameless reacted instantly, turning with impossible speed.

He blocked the unexpected assault.

But a torrent of dozens of strikes followed immediately, relentlessly forcing him backward.

The two combatants engaged in a furious exchange, their speed escalating with each passing moment.

Each clash was more rapid than the one preceding it.

Nameless's skill remained as exceptional as ever.

But the crucial difference between the past and the present...

Was that Agaroth could now decisively match him with the blade.

No—

He demonstrably surpassed him.

Ruthlessly driving him back.

Nameless expanded the King's Domain, attempting to enhance his tracking capabilities and respond more effectively to the onslaught.

But the King's ferocity in this Yaksha Form transcended all known limits.

Even his void eyes struggled intensely, pushed to their absolute breaking point just to maintain visual tracking.

The crimson blades relentlessly carved into Nameless's defenses, striking repeatedly.

And there was no visible regeneration of his wounds.

Those devastating blades were forged by the fusion of multiple world-shattering abilities.

An unbreakable, ethereal metal.

The entire dynamic of the battle had irrevocably shifted.

From the precise moment Agaroth unleashed that terrifying form.

And witnessing its devastating power—

Nameless began to question with growing unease.

If this was merely one of the hidden trump cards Agaroth possessed...

Then how many more formidable abilities remained concealed?

How many other terrifying weapons had he yet to reveal?

Was there truly any discernible limit... to the extent of his power?

The King was clearly reveling in the fight.

Completely.

There was no discernible trace of apprehension or threat.

He did not perceive his own life to be in any danger... not even for a fleeting moment.

And that stark realization—

Utterly crushed any lingering hope Nameless held for achieving victory.

As they continued to exchange ferocious blows, Nameless understood this grim truth more profoundly than anything else.

'I know… I cannot possibly defeat him.'

The thought reverberated intensely within his mind.

Frey—lost amidst the encroaching darkness—heard it with absolute clarity.

'But I have no alternative choice… but to continue fighting.'

Within Nameless's desperate grasp—

Countless souls remained inextricably trapped.

The souls of the deceased, bound by his command over the powers of life and death.

'If I falter… every single one of them will perish.'

'So I am left with no choice… but to endure this onslaught until the very end.'

Did he possess a secret plan?

No.

Was there even a sliver of a chance for victory?

No.

That was the grim prognosis his void eyes presented him.

And yet—

The inexorable current of fate continued to flow onward.

And no mortal could possibly predict its ultimate conclusion.

Nameless resolutely continued his fight.

Simultaneously, he persistently searched.

For any means to alter the current disastrous tide.

For any conceivable way out of this seemingly impossible predicament.

The immense pressure was utterly overwhelming.

Crushing his spirit.

And yet—

He valiantly fought on. Until the very final moment.