Parallel Memory

Chapter 590: The night falls

The devils expected another headlong rush. They had braced themselves for sheer brawn, for the ice storms of Mia, the divine fury of Nock, the spear-lightning of Seraphine.

They had not expected Valen Drazmir.

The SS-ranker stood a half-step behind the vanguard line, his silver hair unruffled even in the chaos of the battlefield. His voice carried without shouting, every order clipped and precise, and the humans shifted in response with uncanny synchronicity. Kaelion Thorne and Ilyra Voss flanked him, their auras simmering but held in reserve, ensuring no devil commander could slip past their cordon.

"Hold the wings," Valen murmured, his eyes fixed not on the soldiers but on the terrain itself. "They want us spread thin. Keep them hungry. Feed them just enough resistance to draw them closer."

Already, Aamon’s tactics were at play. From the devil lines, pockets of soldiers swelled and receded, their ranks forming deceptive openings meant to lure humans into overextension. But where such tricks had shattered armies before, this time the vanguard did not bite. Valen’s hand flicked, and the entire formation shifted half a step back, baiting the devils into overcommitting.

The trap snapped shut.

"Mia. Seraphine. Now."

The order cracked through the air.

In an instant, Mia surged forward, her frost exploding outward in a jagged bloom that froze the ground beneath the devil vanguard. Spears of ice shot upward, impaling those too slow to leap clear. Beside her, Seraphine’s spear blazed with lightning, her form darting through the gaps Mia had created, each thrust sending shockwaves that tore through clusters of enemies.

Nock followed behind them, his sheild raised high, his incantations spilling into the battlefield. Golden chains of sanctified light erupted from the earth, binding the wings of devils who had taken to the skies, dragging them down into the killing field.

The wedge was formed.

"Push!" Valen’s voice cut like steel.

The chosen S-rank squads surged behind their leaders, Hiro and his friends among them. Hiro’s blade gleamed like a star, cutting down a devil soldier who lunged for Misha’s flank, while Zion’s spear flared bright to shield them from incoming blasts. The formation pressed forward, relentless, the wedge carving through the devil ranks like a spear driving into soft flesh.

From afar, Aamon’s eyes narrowed. Hidden within the devil king’s palace, his lips twisted into the faintest smile. "So... a strategist among the humans at last." He raised a clawed hand, adjusting his own lines, countering Valen’s push with ruthless precision. The battlefield was no longer brute force against brute force. It was a duel of minds, each move and countermove rippling through the clash of thousands. Lord Aamon seemed to be able to keep up with Valens strategy although he was in the castle.

Still, the humans gained ground. By the time the sun burned low in the sky, the vanguard had carved halfway to the palace. They did not reach it, but for the first time, they did not have to turn back.

When the call to withdraw came at dusk, they did not retreat in chaos but in order, pulling back to a defensible ridge where the vanguard pitched their night camp.

The camp was a different world from the battlefield. Fires burned low, muted by strict orders to keep their glow minimal. Guards rotated in careful shifts. No songs, no laughter. Only the quiet murmur of healers moving from tent to tent, their hands glowing faintly as they patched wounds and restored stamina.

Mia sat with Seraphine and Nock near the command fire, a rough map etched into the dirt before them. Valen crouched over it, Kaelion and Ilyra flanking him, the three veterans radiating calm authority.

"They’ll test us harder tomorrow," Valen said, his tone clipped. "Aamon will not let us repeat this advance. Expect feints. Expect illusions. But his arrogance works in our favor. He’ll want to outthink us, not crush us with sheer weight. That gives us room to breathe."

Seraphine leaned her spear across her knees, nodding. "And if we breach another mile tomorrow, the palace walls will come into view."

Mia’s hand hovered briefly above the map, her eyes cold. "Then we keep pressing. No matter the cost. Every step closer denies them control."

At the edges of the firelight, Hiro and his friends sat together. Zion’s hands shook slightly as he recharged a spell crystal, while Misha leaned back against her pack, eyes half-lidded but alert. Hiro sharpened his blade in silence, the rasping sound steadying his thoughts.

"They’re not backing down," Zion muttered. "Not tomorrow, not ever. It’ll only get worse."

"That’s fine," Misha replied, her voice quiet but fierce. "We’ll just get stronger."

Hiro didn’t speak, but when he looked up, he caught Mia’s silhouette across the camp. The frostmist still lingered faintly around her, her presence steady as the mountain. For a moment, his chest eased.

Unnoticed among the ranks, Amelia sat with Adeline at the far edge of the camp. Her hood was drawn low, her silver hair hidden, her cloak dusted with mud to mask its finery. But the exhaustion in her steps, the stiffness of her posture—these were tells only a trained eye could see.

Adeline, ever vigilant, leaned close. "My lady, this is reckless. You risk discovery with every passing hour."

Amelia’s hands tightened around the staff hidden beneath her cloak. "I know. But if I’d stayed behind, I would have been useless. Here... at least I can help." Her voice was hushed, weighted with both fear and conviction.

A healer passed close by, pausing briefly to offer salve for what he assumed were minor wounds beneath Amelia’s cloak. Amelia froze, her breath catching—but Adeline smoothly intercepted, shaking her head. "Already tended. Move along."

The healer nodded and walked on. Amelia exhaled, heart pounding.

If anyone discovered who she truly was—especially Mia or Valen—there would be questions, consequences. Yet as her gaze drifted to the faint glow of the palace on the horizon, she knew she could not turn back now.

Tomorrow, the storm would break again.