THE VILLAIN'S POV Chapter 771  Agaroth vs Odin (1)

The crimson heavens over Helmond faded away entirely.

In their place stretched a vast expanse of pure, dazzling white.

A ghostly sky that filled every observer with a chilling, ominous dread.

Bit by bit, a veil of ghostly vapor began to coalesce.

It carried an otherworldly energy never seen in this realm before.

Out from that vapor, eyes of gleaming gold appeared, radiating a malevolent yellow gleam.

Little by little, the haze solidified into a tangible shape.

Limbs started to form.

Followed by a torso.

Then appendages.

And at last, a face.

His stature matched Agaroth's exactly,

but his flesh bore a lifeless gray pallor, drained of all vitality.

His countenance was angular,

exuding an aura of dominance and timeless grandeur.

Locks of silvery hair cascaded down his back,

resembling threads woven from solidified essence.

Encircling him swirled a mantle of ghostly energy,

an energy that struck fear into the souls of anyone who felt it, even fleetingly.

His eyelids parted,

signaling his reentry into the physical plane after eons of exile.

The Pale Devastation represented a disaster the world had all but erased from memory,

and now, recollection was imminent for all.

As Odin materialized fully in front of him, the Demon King's grin stretched broader.

He ascended into the sky, gliding closer until they confronted each other directly.

"This aura... these traits..."

Agaroth whispered, fixing his unique gaze on the figure opposite him.

"It truly is you."

There could be no question.

The entity facing him was Odin, and no one else.

No matter Agaroth's efforts, the King's Eye failed to penetrate him.

Indeed, the more intently Agaroth looked, the fiercer his eye quivered,

until a slender stream of blood seeped along his face from the effort.

Odin, on the other hand, seemed detached at first,

then gradually curved his lips into a scornful, haughty smirk.

"O Demon King,"

"O you who name yourself the monster that consumes everything."

Odin's tone resounded next to Agaroth's ear,

and echoed across the entirety of Helmond.

Yet not a single demon grasped the meaning.

Agaroth alone comprehended.

They lacked the essence to detect Odin's speech;

all they registered was a haunting rasp, akin to a summons from the void at world's edge.

In reality, even Odin's silhouette blurred for them.

They discerned only a menacing, whitish haze.

The sole beholder of his true appearance,

the only listener to his words,

remained Agaroth.

"You comprehend so little of this realm, Demon King,"

Odin pressed on.

"You meddle with destiny, defy the laws of cause, and your hubris has swelled to the point where you presume to oppose me."

Odin floated serenely under the flawless heavens he had conjured,

his golden stare boring directly into Agaroth.

The Demon King displayed no worry, though.

"You lecture from a pedestal," Agaroth shot back icily,

"yet you struggle to hold this shape. Look around—this realm has forgotten you long ago."

Odin's composure held firm against the Demon King's taunt.

"The world?"

"What does the world even mean?"

Odin inquired, as the bizarre force around him surged stronger.

"I embody the world itself, Demon King.

Indeed, my stay in the physical plane is fleeting, but it suffices to end you."

Odin proclaimed, his voice laced with contempt.

"You—who boasted of supremacy in the age of my absence—

you donned the crown of ruler and declared yourself beyond death."

"Allow me to awaken your sight, Demon King.

Despite all your ocular might, you remain sightless—wholly unable to grasp reality."

Right then,

both Odin and the Demon King grinned.

One bore assured, patronizing assurance,

the other a chilling, cruel glee.

Agaroth was no idiot.

He had sensed for some time that the Great Ones plotted something major in Helmond,

something vital enough to summon Odin personally, expending vast power to reappear in the physical realm.

Odin dwelled mainly in the ethereal domain, a plane few living entities could sense.

His corporeal body had vanished ages past.

Still, by tapping reserves gathered across endless epochs,

Odin could momentarily trick the threads of cause and destiny,

granting him a short manifestation in the tangible world.

Such a feat surely demanded a staggering toll.

Thus, whatever Odin aimed to accomplish here

justified that sacrifice.

Agaroth grasped it all.

Nevertheless, it mattered not to him.

Every fiber of the Demon King's form urged him to shred the foe ahead.

A foe who, for the first time in forever, stirred doubt in him about triumph or downfall.

The Demon King, cloaked in void-like shadows, versus Odin, the Pale Devastation.

This spectacle unfolded for Helmond's witnesses.

In the crowd, Izalith observed intently, anxiety etched on her expression.

Her eyes stayed locked on Odin,

that Pale Devastation born from void.

The Great Ones had been formidable, overpowering to be sure,

but this felt distinct.

Pure malevolence.

Malevolence akin to Agaroth's essence—

yet utterly alien in its core.

Despite her utmost efforts, Izalith failed to measure his strength.

And that fear gripped her deepest.

Without thought, she bolstered the crimson barriers encircling the arena,

dreading the fallout from a duel between those entities.

Then,

in one instant,

quiet descended.

A lone second of calm,

heralding the onset of ruin.

Agaroth lunged at breakneck velocity toward Odin,

a wicked scowl etched on his visage, as the confrontation loomed.

Flames of ferocious, furious black erupted around the Demon King's punch as he assailed relentlessly, targeting Odin squarely.

Odin held his ground unmoving.

He didn't budge.

Not a fraction.

Then,

impact struck.

The sound rang out across all of Helmond.

A thunderous blast, paired with an uncanny, crystalline wail that pierced every hearing.

Agaroth's explosive strike,

the very strike that had effortlessly erased the Great Ones,

halted dead before Odin's visage.

It couldn't touch him.

As if some unseen barrier halted the Demon King's advance, rendering all his immense force futile no matter how fiercely he pressed.

Amid that resistance, Odin's smirk grew,

his eyes igniting with a wicked shine.

Then, abruptly,

Agaroth flew back.

An unseen power slammed into him with colossal force, flinging the Demon King's form rearward, crashing through Izalith's blood barrier and emerging on the far side.

His momentum carried on,

colliding with the Tower of the End, ripping through its core, and exploding out the opposite end.

When the Demon King finally steadied his form,

he found himself cast an inconceivable span from his rival.

In that short span, Izalith and the demons failed to grasp the events.

With one unseen blow, Odin had flung the Demon King through Helmond—

and casually breached the blood wall into which Izalith had channeled her full might.

At the same time,

The moment Agaroth righted himself, the earth underfoot lifted skyward.

No.

It wasn't the earth.