Parallel Memory

Chapter 623: The Black Wolf’s Fangs

The chamber seemed to shrink as Erebus rose to its full height. Two and a half meters of pure muscle and shadow towered over Loren Vance, each step of its claws clicking against the stone floor, sending vibrations through the soles of his boots. Its scarred cheek glowed faintly in the dim light, like a brand of survival earned from battles that would have crushed lesser creatures.

The wolf’s eyes glimmered—two pits of deep crimson, cold and merciless.

And yet, despite the beast’s terrifying presence, Loren felt a strange, fleeting sense of confidence. His sword was steady in his hands, the polished steel catching what little glow the room allowed. He had trained for this. He had stood against Misha Frostine in front of hundreds and proven he could weather humiliation. But this time, the stakes were higher—and the glory, so much greater.

If he won, his name would resound not only in Moonspring but across the Human Domain. Even if he lost, he could still spin this into legend.

"Come then, beast," Loren muttered, voice sharp with forced bravado. "Let us see what your fangs can do against my blade."

Erebus did not pounce immediately. Instead, it prowled forward, each movement smooth, predatory, like a shadow unfurling across the ground. It circled him once, tail lashing, eyes never leaving his. Then, without warning—

Boom!

The wolf lunged.

Its speed was monstrous, faster than anything Loren had imagined. It blurred across the chamber in a streak of darkness, its jaws opening wide enough to swallow his head whole.

Instinct screamed, and Loren’s sword shot up in a desperate block.

Level 6 Sword Art: Pride Hunter Style – First Fang.

Steel met fang. The impact shook his bones, the sheer force of Erebus bite sending him skidding back across the stone floor. Sparks burst as his blade barely held against teeth harder than iron. His arms trembled, but the strike had held.

"I knew it," Loren hissed through gritted teeth, forcing his stance back into form. "A beast, no matter how terrifying, is still a beast. Power without cunning. I can handle this."

He swung his blade in a wide arc, releasing a second technique.

Pride Hunter Style – Cleaving Prowl.

The slash cracked the ground, sending a sharp wave of pressure toward Erebus. The wolf twisted aside at the last instant, the attack clipping fur from its flank but drawing no blood. Its lips curled, a low growl vibrating through the chamber like thunder.

Loren’s grin widened. The strike hadn’t landed cleanly, but he had forced the monster to move. That alone was proof enough—he was in this fight.

But behind him, the others saw differently.

From their vantage, every movement of Erebus was measured, deliberate. The wolf had not unleashed its full speed; it hadn’t even flexed its killing intent. Its first lunge was powerful, yes—but too direct, almost playful.

Mia’s eyes narrowed.

"It’s testing him," she murmured, her tone sharp as steel.

Hiro glanced at her. "You think it’s holding back?"

"It’s obvious," Mia said, not taking her gaze off the fight. "If that wolf wanted him dead, he’d already be in its stomach. It’s not fighting seriously. It’s... toying with him."

Lisa frowned, fingers tightening around her staff. "But why? For the devil’s amusement?"

The seated devil gave no sign of interest, only leaning against his throne, eyes half-lidded as though watching children spar. The air around him was thick with murderous intent, but not once had he stirred.

Sylvia crossed her arms. "That wolf isn’t even panting. It hasn’t broken the rhythm. All those techniques Vance is throwing out—it’s just dodging, letting him swing."

Misha said nothing at first. She watched the battlefield with her lips pressed thin, her gaze sharper than ever. But when Vance landed another shallow strike—only grazing fur again—she exhaled, her voice low.

"He thinks he’s winning."

And indeed, Vance did.

Every time his blade forced Erebus to shift aside, every clash that didn’t end with his throat ripped open, he felt vindicated. His chest swelled with adrenaline and triumph. This was the right choice. Facing a beast, even one wrapped in shadows, was better than standing against that horned devil watching from the throne.

His pride surged.

"Is this it?" Vance barked, voice rising, his grin turning feral. "Is this the ’trusted companion’ of the devil king? Nothing but a shadow mutt!"

Erebus’s eyes narrowed at the insult. Its growl deepened, the sound rattling the chamber walls.

Then it struck again.

This time faster.

Its massive body darted low, claws scraping stone, before lunging upward with a sweeping bite. Vance barely managed to intercept with another strike of his Pride Hunter Style, steel screaming against fang. He twisted, turning his block into a counter-thrust, blade stabbing toward Erebus’s eye.

But the wolf swerved, not with panic, but with calculated grace. It let his blade pass, then slammed its massive paw down.

Crack!

The impact smashed against his guard, sending him sprawling backward. He hit the ground hard, rolling before scrambling back to his feet, his chest heaving.

Still alive.

Still fighting.

"Yes!" Vance roared, more to himself than anyone else. "I can do this! I can keep up!"

Behind him, Zion’s jaw tightened. "He doesn’t see it. That beast is just... playing with him. It hasn’t even drawn blood yet."

Mia’s eyes were cold. "If Vance keeps fighting like this, when the wolf finally decides to strike in earnest..." She let the sentence hang, but the implication was clear.

Hiro clenched his fists. "We’ll be ready. If he falls, we move."

The group nodded, but unease lingered. Every instinct told them this wasn’t just a test of strength. The devil was watching them all, gauging, amused. This was more than a fight—it was a spectacle.

Back on the field, Vance forced himself upright again, wiping blood from his lip. His Pride Hunter Style was keeping him alive, but his breathing was heavy now, his arms aching from the relentless pressure of Erebus’s power.

But still—he believed.

"I was right," he muttered under his breath, his eyes wild with determination. "Better the beast than the devil. And when I return home, they’ll say Loren Vance fought the Black Wolf of Ruin and lived."

He raised his blade high once more, aura flaring, his voice echoing through the chamber.

"I am the son of Virgil Vance! I am the heir of Moonspring! And I will not fall here!"

The wolf’s growl deepened, darker than before. Its eyes glowed brighter, crimson burning like coals.