THE VILLAIN'S POV - Chapter 848 Alexander Rybak
Londor… a planet where life has perished, leaving behind nothing but death and ruin.
Remnants of an ancient history—of a once-great civilization that stood for countless years among the dominant powers of the world.
Today… it had become a graveyard.
A graveyard destined to host the final act of a conspiracy that had endured for thousands of years.
Gehrman was the first to arrive … the first to set foot upon the abandoned, ancient world. But his pursuers followed almost instantly, clinging to him like shadows.
Maskith came first… then Wesker in Vayne’s body, and finally Vex.
The situation was far from favorable for Gehrman. All three of them were clearly stronger than him in his current state.
Yet the blue-eyed engineer didn’t even bother to look back.
He surged forward at full speed—crossing an unimaginable distance in the blink of an eye.
Despite his weakened body, he was still fast enough to make the three struggle to keep up.
Londor was a colossal planet—many times larger than Earth—making it nearly impossible to uncover all of its secrets.
Countless races had come here over the years, including the Lord of Graves, holder of the sixth seat, who had spent ages exploring it.
And yet… he had failed to uncover what this planet truly concealed.
Believing that the barrier-shrouded Crown Lands were the only mystery.
As they pursued him, both Maskith and Wesker frowned—thinking the same thing.
‘What is he trying to do…? Where is he running?’
Carrying the shattered body of his king… what exactly did Gehrman hope to achieve?
After facing the Demon King… after witnessing him slaughter every human on Earth… after watching him defeat both Frey and Nameless …
How could he still move forward like this?
What the Demon King had done… was the very definition of despair.
No sane mind could imagine a scenario where that monster could be defeated.
And yet… Gehrman had not lost hope.
Which meant one thing—he had something hidden.
He was neither a fool… nor a man clinging to false hope.
All three of his pursuers understood this well.
And so, they attacked without hesitation.
Shadows slithered across the ground like serpents—tendrils shattering mountains and ridges as they surged forward, attempting to devour Gehrman whole.
Vex moved through the darkness as well, closing the distance while unleashing a barrage of lethal blades … each one aimed to end the blue-eyed man’s life.
Under the relentless storm of attacks, Gehrman was forced to push himself to the limit … dodging, evading, protecting Frey’s body at all costs.
His masked vessel suffered further damage…
Yet he kept moving forward.
The only one who held back… was Maskith.
The strange old man simply observed … pursuing from close range, his eyes filled with genuine curiosity about what that engineer was trying to accomplish.
“There is no escape, Gehrman!” Wesker shouted through Vayne’s voice, forming a terrifying spear of shadows.
“Turn back and fight… and face the end you’ve always run from.”
He hurled the spear.
It shot forward with terrifying precision—targeting Gehrman’s back.
From that distance… it could not miss.
Sensing the incoming catastrophe, Gehrman glanced back … his eyes briefly meeting the weapon… and the three figures chasing him.
There was no fear on his face.
No hesitation.
Only calm… as if his life was not in danger at all.
“I don’t need to fight.”
“We’ve already entered his domain.”
His words echoed—confusing them for a mere instant.
They didn’t even have time to process them.
Because in the very next moment …
A projectile of dense, dark gray aura struck from nowhere… obliterating the spear completely and sparing Gehrman from harm.
The sheer pressure of that aura made all three turn instantly toward its origin.
But they saw nothing.
Nothing at all.
It had come from far beyond their range—yet it had struck Wesker’s attack with perfect accuracy.
Without hesitation, Gehrman dashed toward the direction the attack had come from.
Maskith and Wesker, possessing the sharpest visual abilities among them, tried to discern what lay ahead.
But they saw nothing.
Just barren land… empty, lifeless.
At least—at first.
Only a few seconds passed before reality itself tore apart.
Before their eyes, space distorted … revealing what had been hidden beneath that empty wasteland.
A towering structure emerged.
Colossal. Monolithic.
Built from black metal … brick upon blackened brick.
It was not a castle.
It resembled… a mausoleum.
An ancient tomb—grand, ominous, radiating an overwhelming sense of mystery and dread.
Wesker froze in disbelief.
“Impossible… I used the King’s Eye just now—how could I not see it?!”
Even an ability like the King’s Eye had failed to pierce whatever concealed this place.
That alone told them how immense the power hiding it truly was.
For a moment, all three were stunned.
But they had no time to remain so.
Because atop that towering structure …
A single figure stood.
Watching them from above.
He was massive—broad-shouldered, imposing, standing well over two meters tall.
The upper half of his body was completely exposed.
Only black bandages wrapped tightly around him…
And beneath them … His body was not flesh.
It was metal.
Dark, ominous metal that formed his entire being.
His face was shadowed—void of color, save for the deep blue glow burning within his sharp, terrifying eyes.
He stared at his distant guests in silence.
Then slowly …
He shifted his stance…
And drew his fist back.
A sharp metallic whine escaped his body—a grinding, ominous sound that heralded danger. Slowly, he tightened his fist… until the very fabric of space around him began to tremble.
From afar, the three stared, puzzled.
“What is he doing?”
He was impossibly distant … so far that even with enhanced vision, they could only catch a blurred outline. Yet distance meant nothing to him.
Gehrman alone understood what was about to happen. He pressed forward without fear, without so much as a glance back.
And within seconds—
The man clad in black hurled his fist.
An explosion of aura erupted—shaking the heavens, shattering the void itself.
“What—?!”
A gasp escaped the pursuers as an immense blue light engulfed them—detonating in their faces before any of them could react.
It was like a nuclear blast of aura … burning, roaring, merciless.
Vex and Wesker instantly summoned their shadows to shield themselves, while Maskith conjured invisible barriers with all his strength.
Yet all their defenses collapsed—barely saving them, only to send them hurtling away over a vast distance, tearing them completely apart from Gehrman.
When the three regained their bearings, the single punch they had witnessed had carved a trench the size of a continent between them and that man.
He stepped forward.
Thunder exploded around him, and his voice rose above even the loudest lightning.
“Finally…”
The word left his lips …heavy with years of pent-up emotion, as though he had been trapped in endless waiting.
“For years… I waited.”
“My body, forged from black gold, has reached its peak… while each day, I prayed for this nightmare to finally end.”
He took another step.
“Years I spent waiting… waiting for his return.”
His overwhelming presence matured into something immense … reflected in the dark steel that formed his body.
“Years guarding this cursed place… years doing nothing but training… training… training—until I forged my technique to its limits, until my skill reached its peak!”
“All… for this day!!”
The monster roared … throwing another punch that exploded toward them once more.
Gehrman threw himself aside, his eyes wide as he witnessed that overwhelming burst of power—an eruption born from a single strike.
“Alexander… just how far has your strength grown…?”
With one punch, he had forced back Maskith—the Duke of Hell—Vex, and even the third-ranked among the demons.
“Go! Gehrman!!!”
That thunderous voice snapped Gehrman back to reality. Without hesitation, he surged forward toward the dark, ancient mausoleum.
Meanwhile, the man stepped into the battlefield … taking it upon himself to face all three at once.
Gathering his strength, he unleashed a deafening war cry—one that shattered eardrums and announced his presence to the world.
“My name is Alexander Rybak! A man who has waited years to see his king stand before him once more!”
“How dare you… you wretched creatures… stand in his way before my very eyes?!”
BOOOOOOOOM!!!
Alexander Rybak threw another punch—unleashing even greater destruction.
His power was monstrous. His iron body radiated terror … instilling fear in the hearts of all who saw him.
A being forged from dark metal… something they had only ever seen in weapons …
Now standing before them as a raging beast that crushed everything in its path.
The battle had begun.
