THE VILLAIN'S POV Chapter 747: Gehrman and Abraham vs Amon (1)

"Impossible..."

Abraham stumbled backward several steps, his gaze shifting to the location where Gehrman had positioned himself mere moments earlier.

He had no idea when or how it occurred, but Amon had somehow obliterated Gehrman with one unseen blow. Neither Abraham nor the engineer with blue eyes had detected it approaching.

"He relied too heavily on his swiftness," Amon's voice echoed steadily from the front as he advanced, his hands once more folded behind him. "And he never anticipated that I could exceed it. Such a pity..."

Abraham whipped around to confront him, lifting his blade of light.

"What the hell did you do?" he demanded—

Only for a terrifying blast to erupt beside him, immediately followed by burning agony.

"...Huh?"

Abraham glanced to the side.

The arm gripping his sword had vanished... utterly wiped out, turned to vapor without any remnant.

No blood flowed.

No aura lingered.

Just void. Emptiness.

"I think that settles your query," Amon remarked with sarcasm. Now, his right hand was no longer concealed—it stretched out ahead.

Clenching his jaw, Abraham channeled his aura to the injury, closing it off completely. Gradually, noticeably, the nearby aura gathered—molding itself, building form—

And a fresh arm materialized in the spot of the ruined one.

"Oho?" Amon approached nearer, real curiosity sparking in his voice. "You hold a most fascinating power, human."

He cocked his head a bit.

"Come to think of it... your form consists purely of aura. No blood. No organs inside. How exactly did you manage that?"

Ignoring the question, Abraham finished rebuilding his arm and released a furious torrent of Stellar Aura.

The power proved crushing... so vast it rocketed skyward.

But it got totally nullified by one effortless flick from Amon’s hand.

"Your strength matches the fourth stage of the SSS tier," Amon noted evenly. "If my guess is correct, that's the peak any human has attained."

Suddenly, Amon materialized in front of Abraham, launching a flurry of strikes at his torso and midsection with horrifying velocity.

Abraham failed to spot them.

Failed to guard.

The gap in strength was total.

He withstood hit after hit... yet no blood emerged, no frailty appeared.

"You also command a capability I've never encountered," Amon went on, undisturbed. "Your very form is exceptional."

Abraham fought to pull away.

"You talk too much," he barked. "Shut up and fight."

Amon chuckled.

"And where would the enjoyment be in that?"

He materialized before Abraham again, his fist wrapped in thick, shadowy aura.

"I don't get to battle strong foes daily. I plan to relish each instant... this chance won't repeat."

He halted for a second.

"Oh—and don't fret. I won't end you. You're too captivating for that."

The pair clashed in a blur of motion. Abraham conjured dual blades and assaulted with all his might...

Yet Amon parried each assault using only his hands.

"Your form, made wholly of aura..." Amon pondered. "It echoes my father's somewhat—Agaroth, the Demon King. Though his isn't aura, but an entirely different essence."

Despite the core distinction, Abraham had reached a condition akin to the Demon King—an oddity that only heightened Amon’s intrigue.

"I originally planned to claim Nameless’s vessel by myself and eliminate the rest," Amon stated, the shadow beneath his mask growing darker. "But I've reconsidered."

His gaze dulled.

"I'll claim you too."

With those words, Amon’s fist blazed with a strange black glow.

In that very moment, Abraham’s eyes burst with brilliance.

"Stardust... Supreme Art: Dawn Barrier!"

BOOOM!!

In under a split second...

A hidden clash burst forth, unleashing massive waves of aura.

Initially, no sight revealed itself.

Then, the world aligned.

Abraham Starlight remained standing, breathing heavily, as Amon’s fist lingered just short of his chest—stopped by a tremendously potent shield of glowing light.

It was Abraham Starlight’s supreme defense move, the very one he'd employed before to halt Wesker’s Domain.

"Haaah... just as I suspected," Abraham uttered, a tired grin crossing his features.

"...."

Amon stayed quiet briefly, then smoothly drew his hand back behind him.

"You have impressive reflexes."

"It's merely a hunch," Abraham responded with a forced chuckle. "At my present power, I can't truly perceive that strike."

Amon’s tone grew chillier.

"Then that renders you even more admirable. That blow can't be stopped by hunch alone."

Upon hearing this, Abraham retreated a step, sword poised, utterly ready.

"I was puzzled initially—about how you erased Gehrman even though you're slower than him," Abraham pressed on. "To land a hit like that, you'd have to catch them off guard... or outpace them."

"Initially, I figured it was some hidden method or unique power. I sensed nothing when my arm vanished."

His gaze sharpened as he aimed his sword at Amon.

"But the motion of your arm emerging from behind your back provided the hint I required."

Abraham drew a breath.

"That strike of yours is simply a punch. One punch—yet ridiculously swift, impossible to detect or counter."

"You're not quicker than Gehrman," he asserted boldly. "But your strike is. Correct?"

Amon erupted in laughter.

Boisterous, unchecked laughter...

Before cutting it off abruptly.

"You foresaw every bit of this," Amon declared with evident delight. "And readied your defense before I launched—allowing you to repel my hit."

"...Remarkable."

Abraham lacked any way to detect or respond to Amon’s bizarre punch—it moved too swiftly.

But he'd foreseen it beforehand.

And that one instance of anticipation enabled protection... through activating his mightiest defense ability.

"You pieced it all together in an astonishingly brief span..."

Amon commended his rival earnestly.

Yet deep down, he was reevaluating Abraham entirely anew.

’This fellow... poses a threat. Not just from his might, but his keen intellect and quick instincts. He dissects foes well above his tier in mere moments—and adapts swiftly. He can't be permitted to advance further.’

Gradually, Amon drew both arms from behind his back again.

"Human fighter," he stated evenly, "tell me your name."

"I have no name to share with a demon."

"I see," Amon answered. "Then I'll force it from you—once I've captured you."

Amon’s arms shimmered anew, readying to deliver that same dreadfully rapid blow.

In turn, Abraham mustered his final reserves of power.

’This is dire... Even comprehending his attack's essence, halting it remains almost unattainable. I scarcely blocked one with my top defense.’

Ideas swirled in Abraham’s head as he hunted frantically for a defense.

"No need to ponder so deeply," Amon announced icily. "You'll fall no matter what."

He voiced plain fact—Abraham held no true shot at triumph. The masked demon wasn't even exerting full effort.

"I know," Abraham said with a subtle smile as his form blazed with fierce light. "I’m not aiming to win."

Truthfully, he sought no victory.

He only stalled for time... awaiting whatever Gehrman had mentioned.

Still, Abraham realized he couldn't endure much more... and Gehrman's setup didn't appear imminent.

Amon prepared to lash out...

When, right at the final instant, a surge of ice crashed into his flank from an unseen source, compelling him to briefly disregard Abraham and ward off the assault.

Seeing that ice, Amon’s eyes widened as he spun toward a particular spot.

"That’s impossible..."

Simultaneously, Abraham looked that way too... and the view stunned him equally.

Gradually... a ghostly hand appeared from the void.

Then, bit by bit, a known figure assembled in their view—until blue eyes reopened, fixed directly on them.