Parallel Memory

Chapter 634: The Devil’s Judgment

The chamber still reeked of blood and scorched stone. Loren’s body lay motionless in Lisa’s care, his breaths shallow but steady, his sword beside him slick with the dark lifeblood of the slain wolf. Erebus’s hulking corpse sprawled across the floor, black ichor seeping into the cracks like a spreading shadow.

And above it all, the devil’s slow, deliberate applause echoed.

Clap.

Clap.

Clap.

The sound reverberated unnaturally, filling every corner of the vast chamber, demanding attention. The squad turned, wary and tense, their relief at Loren’s survival replaced by the sharp awareness that their true enemy still sat on his throne of shadow.

The devil’s lips curled into a faint smile, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Magnificent. Truly magnificent. To think that the boastful cub of a Platinum guildmaster would find his teeth at last. I admit—I did not expect him to rise so far." His voice was smooth, almost amused, but beneath the calm words was a current of lethal intent.

Mia stepped forward, hand on her blade, her gaze cold. "He killed your beast. The fight is decided."

The devil tilted his head, his horns catching the pale glow of the chamber. "Killed? Perhaps. But did you not see? He too fell. Victory is claimed by those who stand at the end of battle. And your champion lies broken at your feet. Tell me, little humans—does that look like victory to you?"

"That’s ridiculous!" Zion snapped, fists clenched. "He stood his ground against that monster! He pushed beyond himself and struck the final blow! You can’t call that anything but a win!"

The devil chuckled, low and mocking. "Ah, humans. Ever eager to twist truth to salve your pride. Do you not see the beauty of it? Beast and hunter, both brought low, neither standing tall. That, children, is a draw."

The squad bristled. Hiro’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tight with restrained fury. "You call it a game, don’t you?" he said. "A test. Then what is this worth if the rules bend whenever you wish?"

The devil’s smile widened. "Everything is worth what

Mia stepped forward again, her aura pressing outward like a steel edge. "You think we’ll accept this mockery?"

The devil leaned back in his throne, utterly unshaken by her glare. His calm was arrogance incarnate. "You will accept, because you have no choice. The doors are sealed, the path forward barred. You may rage, you may argue, but the truth will not bend to your will. This contest is mine to shape. And so, I declare it—" His voice rang like a tolling bell, shaking the chamber. "A draw."

Silence pressed down on them. The squad exchanged frustrated glances, anger simmering but powerless against the authority radiating from him. Even Mia, though her grip whitened on her sword hilt, knew the futility of pressing further.

"Damn it..." Zion muttered under his breath, kicking at the cracked stone.

The devil’s laughter rolled through the air again, cold and mirthless. "Do not pout so, little gnats. Did you not find thrill in the clash? Did you not feel your hearts pound, your blood burn, your fragile lives dancing on the knife’s edge? This is the purpose of battle. To draw out the truth of what you are."

His smile sharpened. "And yet, I am not sated."

The air shifted. Shadows deepened along the far side of the chamber, coiling like serpents, until a second figure stepped forward from the dark.

At first glance, it resembled a man—tall, broad-shouldered, and regal in bearing. But the details betrayed its inhuman nature: skin like polished obsidian, faintly veined with glowing crimson; horns sweeping elegantly back from its temples; eyes burning gold like twin embers; and from its back, a pair of leathery wings folded with practiced poise. Its aura radiated malice, refined and potent, laced with authority that weighed on the humans’ shoulders like chains.

The devil gestured toward it with a languid wave of his hand. "Behold my next champion. One of my royal guard. A peerless warrior, forged in endless war. He will be your opponent now."

The squad stiffened. The wolf had been a nightmare, but this—this was different. This was no beast driven by instinct. This was a devil who had thought, will, and skill, combined with the raw killing intent of its kind.

Lisa’s breath caught in her throat. "That’s... not even fair," she whispered.

The devil’s smirk deepened. "Fair? What is fairness, child? This is war. And in war, there is no such word."

Mia’s eyes locked onto the figure, every instinct screaming danger. She had faced powerful enemies before, but the oppressive aura rolling off this devil made her skin crawl. Her blade itched to move, but she held herself steady, refusing to show weakness.

The devil rose slightly from his throne, his gaze sweeping over the squad like a predator surveying prey. "Choose. Once more, choose your champion. One among you must stand against him."

No one spoke immediately. The weight of the demand pressed down on them, heavier than stone.

Hiro clenched his fists, jaw tight. "We just fought your beast. Vance nearly died. And now you demand another?"

"Yes," the devil replied smoothly. "Another. You are the ones who accepted my wager. You did not think it would end with a single round, did you? Games are only worth playing when there are many turns."

"Games..." Sylvia muttered, her voice low with disgust. "To him, that’s all we are."

Zion’s eyes flicked to the fallen Loren, then to the towering figure waiting silently by the devil’s side. "If that’s really one of his royal guard, then sending another of us is suicide."

The squad’s tension thickened. They had all witnessed how close Loren had come to death even while fighting Erebus—an opponent who, in hindsight, had been holding back much of its true power. The thought of facing something even greater, even deadlier, churned unease in their stomachs.

Mia broke the silence. "If we refuse?"

The devil’s smile turned sharp as a blade. "Then the doors remain shut. You stay here, forever. Food and water will run out. Your bodies will rot where you stand. Those are the terms."

The squad exchanged glances. The devil’s words were no bluff. They all felt the weight of the sealed doors, the suffocating permanence of the chamber.

Mia finally exhaled. Her eyes burned with controlled fury, but her voice was steady. "Then we have no choice."

The devil leaned back, clearly pleased. "Exactly. Now... choose."

The squad fell into uneasy silence again, the enormity of the decision pressing upon them. Who among them would step forward this time? Who would risk their life in a duel that might very well be unwinnable?

Hiro’s hand tightened on his sword. His instincts screamed to lead, to protect his squad by stepping forward himself. But Zion, standing at his side, glanced at him with grim resolve, already preparing to argue as he had before.

Lisa’s gaze darted nervously between her friends, her blessing still faintly glowing as she sustained Loren’s fragile life. She could not fight—not when his survival still depended on her. Sylvia, arms crossed, stared at the devil with a face carved from stone, her thoughts unreadable.

And Mia, as always, stood still at the forefront, her sharp mind calculating, weighing not just strength but the very survival of the team.

The silence stretched on, broken only by the devil’s amused chuckle. "What’s wrong, children? Afraid? Perhaps you should be." His golden eyes glimmered with sadistic delight. "Choose, or I shall choose for you."

The squad knew they had only moments left.

The decision loomed.

Another life was about to be wagered.