THE VILLAIN'S POV Chapter 739: Against the Joker (1)

The chaos engulfed the entire battlefield, leaving no one able to foresee the next twist.

Within moments, several powerful groups had jumped into the fray.

Out of thin air, Fulgor showed up, shoving the Third Rank Vayne away with one massive hit that sent her flying toward the moon through raw might.

After Snow Lionheart stepped in to hold back the Ninth Rank Nito, he could no longer fire his destructive attacks from above.

And right now, on the ground...

Gehrman and Abraham were the only ones left, facing off directly against the Eleventh Rank...

Amon.

Frey Starlight watched all this happen, still clutching Ada close in his embrace.

After breaking through two more levels of Shadow Adaptation, Frey fought to regain control and steady himself.

Even after some time, his movements remained restricted, far from the freedom he craved.

"Damn it... the whole place is a mess, and I'm totally helpless here..."

With a quiet mutter of frustration, he stood up, holding Ada with utmost care.

Expending just enough effort, Frey pulled back swiftly, putting space between him and the fight, his features twisted in worry.

"Those who showed up are the Third Rank Vayne, the Ninth Rank Nito, and the Eleventh Rank Amon... This is the nightmare scenario!"

Luckily, Vayne got repelled.

"And someone blocked Nito as well... was that Snow?"

Frey squinted, certain the glow he spotted came from nobody but him.

That thought offered zero comfort.

"At his power right now, Snow can't last in a duel with the Ninth Rank. Taking him on headfirst is just asking for death..."

Since awakening his real path and embracing his role as a Pure Vessel, Snow's strength had matched Frey's closely.

Still, that wasn't sufficient to handle Zibar of the Tenth Rank, much less the superior Nito.

The crisis deepened...

However, the real issue went beyond Snow and Nito.

It lay elsewhere.

While pulling away, Frey glanced over his shoulder at the action unfolding below.

His father and Gehrman held their ground against the masked fiend...

Amon.

His Eleventh Rank status ought to place him below both Gehrman and Abraham in strength.

Or so it should have been.

But each glance at that masked figure stirred a profound chill in Frey.

Things felt off.

Regarding the fiend in question...

Amon had dodged Fulgor's previous assault with ease and now drifted ahead leisurely, hands clasped behind him.

His mask concealed any hint of emotion from the onlookers.

"Hmmm... it appears the Shadow Sect holds more power than anticipated."

With steady words, Amon tilted his gaze upward to the fractured moon, where Fulgor pinned the Third Rank Vayne, and then to Nito locked in battle with Snow.

"A Light Bearer? How peculiar."

Snow Lionheart stood out as a rarity.

Though not an urgent danger, his abilities echoed those of the mightiest Light Bearers...

Even resembling the Lord of Light—admittedly an overstatement at Snow's present stage.

Amon gave him a quick look.

Then, his gaze locked sharply and completely on another figure.

"You must be Saint Gehrman, right?"

Now, he zeroed in on the blue-eyed Engineer positioned in front of him.

Gehrman tightened his eyes a bit, silently bracing himself.

"Am I wrong?" Amon pressed when no reply came.

Finally, Gehrman gave in, a slight smile tugging at his mouth.

"My apologies. It's uncommon for folks to know me by that former title."

To demons, he was mostly seen as Nameless's follower—seldom by his actual self.

But Amon had spotted him right away.

The masked fiend brought one hand forward from his back, opening his palm in a relaxed manner.

"Naturally, I recognize you. I've learned plenty about your exploits."

"You're among the rare few who faced the Great King directly."

"And you held your own against my older brother in combat. He mentioned you frequently."

Amon went on at length, his voice warm—like chatting with a longtime friend.

At the same time, the other fights had erupted fully, their fierce energy waves rippling across the realm.

Even so, Amon showed no worry.

Gehrman kept his cool as well, holding off on any initial strike.

"Flattery from a demon holds no value for me," Gehrman replied steadily.

"Though you did bring up one interesting point earlier."

His face grew a touch sterner as he went on.

"Who exactly is this 'brother' you're referring to? I have no memory of battling anyone resembling you."

While talking, Gehrman channeled aura to bolster his form.

Abraham lingered close by, restraining himself too.

He'd burned through much of his energy in the prior clashes and now bided his time, studying the foe for the ideal opening.

Still, neither Gehrman nor Amon budged.

"What in the world are they holding out for...?"

Anxiety gripped Abraham as he pondered, his mind fixed on his loved ones' well-being.

Amon didn't radiate overwhelming might.

His aura came across as average, nothing special.

Then why the delay from Gehrman in launching an assault?

It defied logic.

Amon stayed composed, watching Gehrman wordlessly after the query.

"Gehrman... you're truly prudent," he remarked eventually, advancing a step.

Gehrman backed up by the precise same amount.

"I admire types like you... the ones who plan each move and avoid foolish risks."

"Despite my mere Eleventh Rank, you refrain from striking."

"Since you're no idiot."

His commendation rang true.

"Prior to addressing your inquiry, Saint Gehrman, I have a question of my own."

"Why the restraint? Why not rush in and end me swiftly?"

"Considering I'm just the Eleventh Rank, after all."

The query made perfect sense.

No one under the Tenth Rank should challenge Gehrman seriously.

Nevertheless, Gehrman stayed still.

"Why?"

With a measured breath, he held his poise.

Honestly, his knowledge of Amon remained scant...

Yet anyone could sense this fiend was anything but typical.

And more than that...

Another factor played in.