Parallel Memory

Chapter 619: The Devil makes Proposal

The chamber was thick with silence, the kind that pressed on the lungs and stretched moments into eternity. Dust floated in the dim air, faintly illuminated by the dull glow of the torches lining the walls, but the shadows seemed heavier than any light could pierce.

Mia stood at the head of her squad, her spear lowered but not slack, her posture sharp as a blade. Every heartbeat felt amplified as her eyes locked on the figure before them.

The devil was seated on what could only be described as a throne of jagged stone, its shape twisted, almost organic—as if the walls themselves had bent in reverence to his presence. His figure was tall, nearly two meters, human-like yet undeniably otherworldly. Horns curled elegantly back from his temples, their tips sharp as polished obsidian. His wings, folded behind him, gleamed faintly as though made of both shadow and steel.

His eyes, however, were the worst. Crimson, burning like coals in a pit of endless night, staring with amusement rather than hostility. He radiated calm arrogance, not because he lacked malice, but because he viewed them not as warriors—but as children stumbling into a wolf’s den.

The squad stood frozen, each of them sensing the same thing: murderous intent. It pressed against their skins, colder than frostbite, thicker than smoke. A monstrous will hung in the air, a promise that if he wished, they would die before taking another breath.

Yet he did not move.

Mia felt her hand tremble but steadied it against the haft of her spear. The others looked to her instinctively. Hiro’s brows were knitted in restrained fury, Lisa’s hand hovered near the threads of her magic, Sylvia had already fitted an arrow to her bowstring though she dared not draw it yet, and even Vance—brash, arrogant Vance—stood stiff, his sword drawn but his face pale as ash.

They were waiting for her.

Mia inhaled slowly, forcing calm through her veins. The devil’s refusal to attack immediately... it was odd. Suspicious. Dangerous, but not meaningless. She decided to test it.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice steady, though every instinct screamed at her that speaking was like poking a sleeping serpent. "And why wait here? Why show yourself to us like this?"

The question lingered in the dark chamber, echoing faintly.

The devil did not answer. His gaze shifted, sliding over each of them with predatory indifference, before settling back on Mia. His lips curled into the faintest of smiles, the kind that held no warmth, only amusement at their audacity.

The silence stretched until Sylvia shifted uncomfortably. Lisa swallowed, her shield spell trembling faintly as if it too recoiled beneath his presence.

Then—

A laugh.

It came low at first, rolling through the chamber like a tremor in the stone, then rose into a sinister, echoing chuckle that carried with it the weight of mockery. His laughter was not of joy but of cruelty, of someone who found entertainment in watching flies struggle against a windowpane.

Finally, his voice cut through the dark like a blade of velvet steel.

"Humans..." The word dripped with disdain, as though the syllables themselves disgusted him. "Fragile. Predictable. Always clinging to hope, no matter how pitiful. Do you truly believe you’ve walked this far only to... what? Face me?"

He leaned forward in his seat, the horns casting long shadows across the chamber floor.

"You are too weak," he declared. "Far too weak. It would not be a battle—it would be an execution. Crushing you would hold no more thrill than squashing an ant beneath my heel."

The words cut into the squad like knives. Vance’s knuckles whitened around his sword hilt, and Hiro took half a step forward before Mia’s hand shot out to stop him. She knew—it wasn’t just arrogance. This being was beyond anything they had faced. A frontal clash now would end in slaughter.

The devil seemed to sense her calculation. His smirk widened.

"But..." he continued, his tone turning languid, playful even, though the malice never faded. "I find myself... bored. It has been long since any dared step into my halls. So perhaps I will humor you. A game. A wager."

The squad stiffened.

"A wager?" Mia asked, narrowing her eyes, keeping her voice cautious.

The devil’s crimson eyes gleamed. "Yes. I will allow you to choose. Pick your champion—the strongest among you, or the bravest, or simply the fool most eager to die. They will face me, alone. Not to the death—unless, of course, they wish it so—but in combat. A contest of strength, skill, and resolve."

He leaned back in his jagged throne, resting his chin on his hand as though he were already entertained by the mere thought.

"And the bet is simple. Should your chosen champion triumph, I will answer one question. Truthfully. Anything your little hearts so desperately desire to know."

His laughter returned, darker now, echoing like thunder. "But should you lose... you will give me what I desire. Your silence. Your surrender. You will abandon all thoughts of victory in this palace."

The chamber froze around them.

It was not just arrogance. He had set the terms because he could afford to. His confidence was absolute.

Mia’s jaw tightened. She could feel her squad’s eyes on her again. Lisa’s brow furrowed, torn between fear and the weight of faith in her leader. Sylvia glanced between the devil and Mia, arrow still taut against her bow. Hiro clenched his fists, whispering under his breath, "Damn it..." Vance—Vance actually took half a step backward, trembling.

"No," Vance muttered, barely audible. "This is suicide. He’s... he’s not something we can fight. We’ll die here..."

The sound of his voice cracked through the squad like a fissure.

"Vance—" Lisa started, but he cut her off, shaking his head wildly. "No! Can’t you feel it? That... that thing isn’t even a devil like the ones outside. This is—this is the Devil King himself!" His eyes darted toward the sealed door behind them, desperation flickering. "We—we can still turn back, there has to be a way!"

But there wasn’t.

The door behind them was sealed, the indestructible weight of it already tested once. It was unyielding, final.

Mia stepped forward, planting herself between her squad and the devil. Her spear tip scraped faintly against the ground as she grounded herself in its weight. Her heart pounded, but her voice was iron.

"There’s no turning back," she said firmly, loud enough for them all to hear. Her gaze fixed on Vance, pinning him in place. "Running won’t save us. You felt the door—none of us are leaving without facing him."

Vance’s protests died in his throat. His sword wavered, his shoulders slumped.

The devil chuckled again, clearly entertained by the exchange.

"Yes... yes, I can smell it now. Fear. Desperation. And yet, resolve." His gaze sharpened, locking onto Mia. "You. You are their pillar. Their strongest. Their leader."

The air thickened as his voice sank into her bones like poison.

"You will choose. Who will stand as your champion? Who will bear your question, should you win?"

The squad waited in silence. Hiro’s jaw was set, Lisa’s shield still flickering faintly at her side, Sylvia’s bow string strained. Even Vance, pale and trembling, looked to Mia now, as if she alone held the power to dictate their fate.

Mia’s hand tightened around her spear.

This was no longer just survival. It was a gamble that could shape everything.

And the devil knew it.