THE VILLAIN'S POV Chapter 751: Upper Demon: Amon

Chaos gripped his form, unveiling his face completely.

Crimson-red eyes.

Long black hair.

Pale skin.

Noble features—almost too refined for a demon.

Gehrman struggled up from the debris, gazing at his foe in utter disbelief that he had endured such a devastating strike.

Yet what truly shocked him deeper was Amon’s looks.

His face... his traits... all of it.

"It’s like a miniature Crimson..."

Indeed, Amon was the true younger sibling of the First Upper Rank.

The main distinction between the two was probably their hair shade—Crimson’s had been ash-gray instead of black.

Amon had obviously been hurt by Gehrman and Abraham’s ultimate assault—though the injury was much milder than Gehrman anticipated.

"Don’t be too surprised," Amon remarked steadily.

"You’re not the only ones with fast wits."

He opened his arms wide, and his aura took shape as protective armor enveloping him...

Armor forged from shadowy aura.

"Right at the final instant... before your irritating power kicked in... I unleashed one of my top defenses, as a precaution."

Amon breathed out softly, grinning.

"I’m relieved my risk turned out right in the end... despite taking heavy harm anyway."

Both Gehrman and Abraham swore silently inside, grasping how gravely they had misjudged their adversary.

"I’ll give you that, Saint Gehrman... you surpass me in strength," Amon declared with a broad grin, honoring his rival.

"If you’d been at full power and locked my body in ice like that, your strikes would have crushed me no matter my efforts."

Amon’s survival against their joint onslaught stemmed from Gehrman’s weakened state.

If Gehrman had reached his prime, Amon would have perished—indisputably.

"You’ve earned my admiration."

Amon shut his eyes while his form started to shine more fiercely than before.

"I’ve had my fill... now it’s time to finish this."

Noticing Amon’s impending move, Gehrman and Abraham steeled themselves for the direst outcome...

But the reality surpassed even their grimmiest fears.

Right before them, Amon thrust out his fists...

And countless... no—thousands... tens of thousands of punches exploded from him, from his rear, and from every angle.

A frenzied barrage assaulting from all sides.

A torrent so relentless that Gehrman and Abraham couldn’t even attempt to guard or dodge.

Without pity...

Amon wiped them out completely and razed the whole region with his brutal flurry.

The deafening cascade of strikes thundered for what seemed an eternity...

Until it finally ebbed, uncovering the battle’s result under the dark sky.

In the finish...

Amon remained in the heart of a massive crater of ruin, its marks extending dozens of miles.

Close by, Abraham sprawled fractured on the earth... utterly wrecked, but hanging onto life.

As for Gehrman...

He had disappeared without trace.

Once done, Amon approached Abraham slowly.

"Human... as I vowed, you’ll accompany me," Amon stated with a grin.

Abraham lacked any strength to fight back.

"I intentionally let you live," Amon went on evenly.

"So at least share your name with me."

Amon crouched next to the shattered Abraham, who labored to draw breath, speechless.

"So you refuse to say... but no cause for concern. I’ve already picked up your name. After all—I caught Gehrman using it before..."

"Abraham, right? Hehehe."

Amon chuckled quietly for a bit.

Abraham attempted to lift himself, but Amon swiftly pressed his palm on his head, forcing him down flat.

"Tell me, Abraham... why not join our ranks?"

Suddenly, Amon suggested something wildly absurd.

"You’re remarkably powerful, and my gut says you’ve got more potential untapped. So... why not rise as an Upper Demon? Rank Ten fits you well, since you took down Zibar."

Amon chatted lightly... yet dead seriously.

"Oh... and rest easy. You don’t have to be a demon to align with us. That Nito battling above isn’t one, but he’s with us all the same."

"The King won’t mind. He adores the mighty..."

Amon kept talking for some time.

And though Abraham stayed silent, his gaze alone showed he’d reject the proposal outright.

"You’re making this tough for me, human fighter Abraham..."

Amon sighed, mulling his next step.

Then he halted.

He sensed a known surge of aura.

And as he turned...

He spotted a recognizable scene.

Gehrman was regenerating anew, reviving just like earlier... only now, his state was far more pitiful than before.

Gehrman materialized again, hacking up an odd fluid as he crumpled to the dirt, completely unable to stand.

At that instant...

A clock-shaped ring broke apart—this time from his spine.

"You’re truly tenacious, Saint."

Amon commented while heading to Gehrman.

"Chrono Guillotine... that power doesn’t only target foes, does it? It impacts you too."

Amon questioned, revealing what he’d deduced.

"That’s how you preserved yourself—by halting your body at a key instant and reverting to it repeatedly. But I see it clearly now... it’s exacted a ruinous toll on your frame."

Gehrman had dodged death...

But he’d hit his breaking point.

Employing a reality-defying skill like Chrono Guillotine, after clashing with Wesker using the Hand of the Ruler, had overwhelmed his battered form—even bolstered by Fulghor’s aura.

"Just lie still now, Saint. In your current shape, you can’t amuse me further."

Amon reached out, ready to slay Gehrman—for good—this round.

The Engineer gradually lifted his gaze to the demon, his eyes burning with defiance.

He’d exhausted every option, right up to the last.

But fate offered no quarter.

The self-proclaimed supreme wielder of time...

Would perish, his form crushed by time’s own force.

"Farewell, Saint. Our clash will stay etched in my memory."

Amon launched his blow.

It was meant to seal the end.

The demon’s gaze held steady...

Until that steadiness cracked in a flash when his fist met something metallic... something unyieldingly firm.

Amon halted, stunned.

Another presence now blocked his way, having parried the strike with a dark blade.

"You... the vessel..."

Amon identified his rival instantly, amazed.

There stood Frey Starlight, his figure wreathed in soul aura... channeling a fearsome might via them.

Frey’s form burned with surging violet fires, blazing so hot that Amon retreated right away, aware a fresh fighter had joined the fray.

Round Two... ignites at last.