Parallel Memory

Chapter 629: The Mirage of Ascension

The clash between Loren Vance and Erebus filled the cavern with a cacophony of violence. Claws raked against steel, sparks scattering like fireflies, while each impact carried the weight of inevitability. And yet... Loren still stood.

The squad stared from the sidelines, breath held tight in their chests. None of them had expected this. Minutes ago, Loren had been on the edge of being devoured whole. Now, with each swing of his blade, his movements seemed sharper, his aura heavier, his posture steadier. His sword sang through the air, leaving arcs of power that forced even the dark wolf of the devil to momentarily retreat.

Mia’s fingers pressed against her own wrist, steadying herself. "That aura..." she muttered, narrowing her eyes. "Don’t tell me..."

Hiro, standing just behind her, finished her thought aloud. "He broke through to Rank S?"

The words hung heavy in the air, and the rest of the squad felt the same chill rush through them. Lisa bit her lip, trying to suppress a flicker of awe she didn’t want to admit. Zion, arms crossed tightly, stared as if refusing to believe what his eyes told him. Even Sylvia, who always carried a mask of indifference, leaned forward ever so slightly, the gleam in her eyes betraying her curiosity.

Only Misha shook her head quickly, her expression tightening. "No... something feels off."

But her voice was drowned in the storm of battle.

Loren’s blade intercepted Erebus’s strike with a roar of defiance, his body sliding back from the sheer weight of the wolf’s monstrous frame. Dust and pebbles skittered across the floor. He spat blood, but his eyes—those pride-filled, arrogant eyes—shone brighter than ever before.

To the squad, it looked like awakening.

Each exchange carried a rhythm, as though Loren had finally tapped into something deeper. His blade wasn’t just slashing blindly now. It carried intent, precision, and above all—fury sharpened into focus.

Mia’s lips parted slightly as she whispered, "I thought... I thought he was just posturing before. But this..." Her hands clenched at her side. "This is the strength of someone who has crossed a threshold."

Hiro’s expression was conflicted. He had sparred with Loren before, had seen his arrogance up close, his recklessness, his empty boasts. And yet, watching him now, Hiro couldn’t help but wonder if all of that had been smoke covering a fire that had always been there.

"Maybe we underestimated him," Hiro admitted under his breath.

Lisa wasn’t convinced. "Or maybe... he was hiding it all this time?" Her voice carried both skepticism and something almost like guilt. "We wrote him off as a burden, as someone who would only drag us down. But what if this is who he really is?"

Zion scowled. "Don’t jump to conclusions." His eyes never left the battle, his mind working to pierce through the veil of what they were seeing. "Strength doesn’t just sprout overnight. Breaking through to Rank S isn’t something that happens because of desperation. It takes time, preparation, refinement."

"But look at him!" Lisa shot back, her voice louder, tinged with nerves. "Are you going to say your eyes are lying to you?"

Misha’s voice cut through them both, sharp and precise. "No. Zion’s right. This isn’t Rank S."

The others turned to her, confusion flickering across their faces. Misha’s gaze was fixed on Loren, her hand resting on the hilt of her blade, knuckles pale. She studied his every motion, every swing, every breath.

"He’s not refined. Look closely—his movements aren’t smooth. They’re desperate, erratic. He’s fighting with a surge, not a stable foundation. It’s not a breakthrough." Her tone carried certainty, like a teacher correcting a room of misguided pupils.

Mia glanced at Misha, torn. Her instincts screamed that Misha was right, but the sight before her eyes—the overwhelming surge of Loren’s strength—clouded her judgment.

Sylvia finally spoke, her voice calm yet cold. "Then what are we looking at?"

The silence following her question was cut only by the sound of Loren’s battle. His sword art clashed again and again with Erebus’s shadow-wrapped fangs. Sweat poured down his forehead, blood dripped from shallow cuts, yet his aura still blazed.

Misha’s eyes narrowed. "We’re seeing a man scraping against his limits—and finding a hidden well. This isn’t a controlled ascension. It’s survival."

Loren, locked in combat, had no idea of their debate. His mind was its own battlefield, torn between pride and terror, between the memory of his father’s words and the reality of the beast before him. Each strike from Erebus threatened to crush him. Yet every time he staggered, something inside refused to let him fall. The Pride Hunter Style answered, dragging out reserves he hadn’t known he had.

And to the squad, this masqueraded as a breakthrough.

Hiro exhaled slowly, conflicted. "Even if it’s not true ascension, does it matter? Look at him. He’s holding his own against a beast like that."

Mia’s heart clenched. She didn’t want to admit it, but she had silently assumed Loren would crumble—that he would fold when tested, that his arrogance would turn to cowardice. But here he was, sword raised, body bloodied, eyes fierce.

She turned to her squad, her tone quiet but firm. "Whether it’s a true breakthrough or not... he’s proving something. And that proof can’t be ignored."

Lisa frowned. "But what if he collapses the moment this surge runs out?"

Misha shook her head again. "Then we’ll be ready to step in. But for now..." She looked back at Loren, her smirk faint but genuine. "Let him burn."

The devil, still seated in his throne of arrogance, tapped his clawed finger against the armrest. His crimson eyes glowed with mild surprise. He had orchestrated this as a spectacle, a cruel form of amusement. Yet even he tilted his head now, studying Loren Vance as though evaluating a curious insect.

"He should have fallen by now," the devil murmured. "And yet he crawls still."

The squad tensed at his words but said nothing. Their focus was fixed on Loren.

And within each of them stirred a different storm.

Mia wondered if she had misjudged him all along, if perhaps beneath the arrogance was a flame he had simply never been forced to reveal. Hiro debated whether leadership meant he had dismissed someone too early, blinded by Loren’s constant boasting. Lisa felt guilt twist in her stomach, questioning whether her quick judgments had been unfair. Even Zion, ever the skeptic, felt his certainty wobble—if only for a heartbeat.

Sylvia alone kept her mask, though her thoughts turned sharp. Potential... or a fleeting spark?

In the end, no one had the answer.

But as Loren roared and clashed again with the beast, bloodied yet unbroken, the question echoed in all their minds:

Had they truly misjudged him?

Or was this only a mirage of strength, destined to shatter the moment the surge burned out?