THE VILLAIN'S POV Chapter 737: Prophecy and an Unending Conflict (2)

"The war zone taught me a single lesson," Abraham declared with a freezing tone.

"Never grant an adversary the opportunity to stand again—regardless of how minuscule that possibility might be."

He charged toward Wesker’s remains without hesitation, determined to wipe every trace of his existence from the world.

This entire scene played out under the watchful eyes of Gehrman, who remained perfectly still.

"Your logic is sound, Abraham," Gehrman murmured, then tilted his gaze toward the heavens.

The preceding clash had swept the clouds away, revealing the vast night sky. Stars shimmered intensely around a shattered moon, its drifting fragments vibrating with a peculiar resonance in the firmament.

A profound blue light ignited within Gehrman’s eyes, his features settling into a mask of solemnity and cold authority.

"The nightmare is set to begin shortly.

Death shall stir.

The Sovereign shall arrive.

And the shackles will be torn asunder."

He lifted his hand, the glow in his eyes intensifying as if he were chanting an ancient prophecy.

"The equilibrium will fail.

Those closest will fall.

And the conclusion will commence.

The Shattering draws near...

It will be gruesome...

And shrouded in shadow."

"But it is a necessity."

Gehrman looked down, his expression completely hollow of any feeling.

"The clock is ticking.

In seventy-two days, the Shattering will start.

To ensure that outcome—"

For a fleeting second, Gehrman’s look grew dark.

"This conflict must persist."

Gehrman drifted alone beneath the dark expanse of the night.

Abraham reached Wesker’s body in a flash, bringing his blade down in a heavy arc...

Only for his steel to strike something grotesque and unnatural.

Something freezing.

Something impenetrable.

Something malicious.

Abraham realized it first—followed by Gehrman, and then Frey.

Emerging from Wesker’s corpse, an entity manifested and caught Abraham’s sword mid-swing.

Abraham was paralyzed, unable to drive his weapon forward.

"Is this... a shadow?" he whispered, his brow furrowing as he struggled to understand the source of the hand that seemed crafted from localized darkness.

In that instant, a bizarre, alien voice resonated through the air.

"My dim-witted, miserable brother...

You have finally brought yourself to ruin."

The voice was saturated with malice, sending shivers down the spines of everyone present.

In a heartbeat...

A massive impact hit Abraham, launching him backward until he slammed into the earth in the far distance.

Gehrman drifted slowly down from the air, while Frey stood in a state of high alert.

The mangled remains of Wesker’s body slowly dissolved into the shadows until they vanished entirely...

And in that space, something new took shape.

Within the darkness, a fresh form coalesced.

A demoness stepped forth, bearing an incredible resemblance to Wesker.

Her flowing hair was a deep violet, her eyes shimmering with the same shade.

She stood unclothed, her demonic physique fully displayed, with wings and wisps of shadow swirling around her body without shame.

Her aura was suffocating...

Far more potent than anything Wesker had displayed.

Her eyes scanned the field of battle in a heartbeat, instantly marking her targets.

"This mess is even worse than I anticipated," she remarked icily.

Gehrman answered with a calm demeanor,

"Have you arrived to rescue your sibling? How sentimental."

He folded his hands, a thin smile playing on his lips.

"I didn't think demons placed any value on family ties," he remarked.

"Third-Rank Demon... Vayne."

Gehrman’s taunt made Vayne’s pupils contract as shadows began to crawl and expand from beneath her feet.

"Hold your tongue, dog of the Nameless."

With a simple wave of her hand...

The shadows surged outward with incredible velocity, swallowing the entire region until everyone was standing upon a vast sea of darkness.

The King’s Shadow.

"We of the Greater Demon Ranks are not some easy game to be tracked and killed," Vayne hissed... then she grinned.

"Slaughtering one of our kind will result in nothing but your total ruin."

"You don't look shocked by my presence. Did you foresee this?"

Gehrman merely closed his eyes and let out a soft laugh.

"I have no explanations for you. You have revealed your hand far too early... and this skirmish has gone on quite long enough."

"As you wish," Vayne answered with a bone-chilling tone... and then a crushing weight of pressure descended upon the field.

For the first time, a frown creased Gehrman’s face as the oppressive force began to tighten around him.

"The King’s Shadow grants me total command over the dark," Vayne explained. "I planted my essence within my brother’s shadow long ago, preparing for the moment he might face his end."

"Furthermore... I can now step out of any shadow that exists—and I..." Her grin widened before she finished her thought, "...can bring some friends along with me."

As her words faded, two figures stepped out from her shadow.

These were demons of overwhelming power... so heavy that the surrounding pressure reached a terrifying peak.

The first was a strange being... not quite a full demon, but something altogether different.

He had sky-blue hair and stood over two meters tall, his massive, muscular frame hidden under a long black cloak that trailed behind him like liquid shadow.

He gripped a gargantuan sword that exceeded even his own height... a weapon that looked more like a slab of raw iron than a blade.

It was a face Gehrman recognized instantly.

"Rank Nine... Nito."

This was the betrayer of the Pantheon race—Nito of the dragons.

The monster who once served as the Dragon Emperor under the command of the first of the Seven Great Powers—the Dragon God Midir—had appeared today as the Ninth Rank of the Upper Demons.

However, it wasn't Nito that caused Gehrman to scowl, but the second figure accompanying him.

A demon wearing a mask, possessing a plain body and a common aura—yet his presence felt fundamentally different.

He wore a jester’s mask fixed in a wide, mocking smile, showing nothing but his blood-red eyes.

He stepped forward immediately, moving past Vayne to take the lead as if he were the one in charge.

"Rank Eleven... the Host of Nightmares, Amon."

New enemies had appeared out of thin air, and the Shadow Sect’s situation had turned dire once again.

Abraham struggled to his feet, his mind occupied solely by the safety of his children.

Frey, meanwhile, gritted his teeth, fighting to keep his power in check while knowing he could be pulled into the fray at any second.

As for Gehrman, he was the only one who remained unperturbed, standing composed before these uninvited arrivals.

Initially, Vayne appeared to be the leader... which was logical, as she was the highest-ranking demon on the field.

Yet, shockingly, she bowed her head and retreated, giving way to Amon, who took command as if it were the natural order of things.

"So... Zibar has perished," Amon noted from behind his mask, locking his hands behind his back.

"And Wesker, surprisingly, failed to finish his task. Truly pathetic." He voiced his disappointment... followed by a mocking snarl from Nito, who crossed his arms with a look of disdain.

"Disgraceful—being defeated by mere mortals and a ghost of the past clinging to dead glory."

At Nito’s insult, Vayne’s fist tightened instinctively in anger.

"It is premature to claim failure," she snapped back. "We are present, and we will finish the objective. As long as Wesker is tied to my shadow, he has not failed."

But Amon simply held up a finger in front of his mask... and she fell silent immediately.

This interaction sparked many questions regarding the true power structure of the Upper Demons.

For some reason, Amon seemed to possess absolute command... even over those who outranked him.

"Wesker had a single duty," Amon stated. "Capture the vessel of the Nameless and wipe out the survivors of the Shadow Sect. He fell short on both counts. Excuses are irrelevant."

He hesitated for a moment before adding,

"However, I will afford you the opportunity to fix this, Vayne. Right here—execute Saint Gehrman and seize the vessel."

The Host of Nightmares gave his order... and it was obvious that Vayne had been itching for this moment.

In a flash, threads of shadow shot into the sky, blocking every escape route for Gehrman and Frey.

"I’ve been waiting to hear that."

A terrifying grin split Vayne’s face as she rose into the air, releasing a devastating pressure that tore through the environment.

Facing that immense power, Gehrman clasped his hands together, his face showing a mixture of fatigue and annoyance.