THE VILLAIN'S POV Chapter 707: The Trial of Blood and Betrayal (1)

Deep within a desolate and shadowed corner of the Ultras continent...

A strange assembly was taking place. A line of demons and influential Ultras figures stood in rigid formation behind Wesker, who remained at the head of the group.

Staying by his side were Rank 13 Geppetto and Beatrice, along with several other prominent individuals.

"He’s here."

Wearing his characteristic venomous grin, Wesker stared at the horizon. Only moments later, a massive pillar of darkness plummeted from the sky, causing the earth to tremble with violent force.

The dark beam descended with incredible velocity and crushing power. Its arrival triggered a tidal wave of aura so fierce it tore at the landscape—the newcomer clearly felt no need to mask his presence.

A demon emerged from the shroud of darkness, walking toward Wesker, who greeted him with that same malicious smile.

The demon’s appearance was familiar: four horns, a distorted face, hollow violet eyes, and a trail of black aura flowing like a cloak behind him.

However, there was a difference this time...

He was clad in terrifying black armor that encased most of his frame, granting him an even more formidable and relentless appearance.

As he arrived, nearly every person present bowed to show their respect—everyone except Wesker.

"We welcome the Tenth Seat... the One-Man Army, Zibar."

Just as suspected, this was the Rank Ten Zibar. But this time...

This was no mere clone.

This was the true Zibar in his original physical body, protected by the legendary Katarina Armor.

The contrast was immense. The surrounding air grew thick and heavy under the suffocating pressure of his authentic aura.

His presence differed greatly from Wesker’s. Although the Fourth Seat possessed superior strength, Wesker usually kept his aura suppressed. In contrast, Zibar allowed his power to overflow and saturate the environment.

"You certainly took your time, Zibar. Was the situation above truly that difficult?"

Wesker’s question was laced with hidden mockery.

Zibar gave a calm response, seemingly unphased by Wesker’s attitude.

"You are well aware of how messy things have become. My role in the army is vital... I cannot remain away for long."

He tightened his fist, his piercing eyes narrowing as he looked at Wesker.

"Let’s conclude this swiftly. The war against the Great Ones has already commenced."

His voice was filled with urgency, pushing Wesker to accelerate their plans on Earth.

While they spoke, the First Seat Crimson, Rank Two Aagares, and Rank Five Marvas were already engaged in combat with a faction of the Great Ones, who were supported by forces from other powerful races like the Pantheon.

The enigmatic land that had appeared in the depths of space had captured the focus of every apex being in existence. All were now vying to seize it, unlock its mysteries, and claim its power.

With his Reincarnation Spirit ability, Zibar was a vital general who could deploy entire legions formed from his own clones.

"Don't worry. I plan to finish this very soon."

Wesker shut his eyes briefly... and when they opened, only the King’s Eye was active.

His most potent ability was available once more, having finished the cooldown period triggered during his battle with Frey and Snow. It was clear that the Fourth Seat had regained almost the entirety of his full power.

Wesker had fought both Frey and Snow and emerged victorious against both. He had then faced Adir of the Shadow Sect and defeated him as well. Despite these battles, he had suffered no injuries—the only cost being the temporary resting phase of the King’s Eye.

That reality alone highlighted the terrifying disparity between Rank Four and those below him.

And now... Rank Ten had joined the fray.

But the reinforcements did not stop there.

As Zibar and Wesker conversed while the others remained bowed, it seemed as though only those two were worthy of standing in that space. Even Geppetto appeared insignificant in their presence.

That was what Zibar assumed... until his eyes widened with alarm.

He suddenly detected an aura—pure and overwhelming—that surged against his own and crushed it.

It was a flamboyant, radiant aura, the complete opposite of his own dark energy.

Zibar immediately raised his fist and turned toward the source, ready for a fight... but Wesker gestured for him to stop, indicating there was no threat.

At that moment, a man entered the clearing.

He wore a simple black robe draped over ancient, damaged black armor.

His black hair was long, and his eyes were dark and sunken. He looked ragged and worn... yet the pressure he radiated was no laughing matter.

As the man walked past Wesker and headed directly toward Geppetto, Zibar realized he was not an adversary.

Still, he couldn't help but stare in shock.

"Where did you manage to find this monster?"

Zibar asked with genuine astonishment, while Wesker let out a soft laugh, clearly entertained by the reaction.

"Impressive, isn’t it? This is Abraham Starlight... the father of Frey Starlight. He is the man I battled years ago."

Upon hearing this, Zibar began to piece the situation together.

He had heard rumors that Wesker had once struggled against a human... but he had never truly believed them. In his mind, no human could possibly pose a threat to the Upper Ten.

Zibar had always assumed that the opponent who had actually wounded Wesker in the past was the Shadow Sect warrior... the Engineer, Gehrman.

But witnessing Abraham with his own eyes shattered that assumption entirely.

"This man... he is more powerful than I am," Zibar confessed.

He then looked toward Geppetto, who was already chuckling, unable to hide his excitement.

"Are you saying this monster has fallen into Geppetto’s hands?"

Wesker gave a nod.

"Exactly."

Zibar’s expression grew grim.

If Geppetto utilized that body... he could potentially challenge the Upper Ranks and seize a top seat for himself.

Sensing Zibar’s concern, Wesker placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"There is no need for worry. Amon will not permit it... even if he tries."

Wesker spoke these final words through a thin veil of aura, ensuring they reached only Zibar’s ears.

At the mention of Amon’s name, Zibar fell silent. He knew those words were the truth.

Amon... the Eleventh Seat. The Nightmare Host.

He was only Rank Eleven... yet his name carried a weight that filled even demons with dread.

The reason was straightforward.

Thinking of the masked demon, Zibar let out a sigh.

Amon—the demon known as the Joker—was far from ordinary. Though he held the eleventh rank, the number was a poor reflection of his actual power. The true reason he remained at Rank Eleven was that he acted as the gatekeeper, personally testing anyone who tried to enter the Top Ten.