Parallel Memory

Chapter 635: The Weight of Leadership

The air still trembled from the last clash, the battlefield’s echoes hanging over them like the smoke of a dying fire. Loren lay unconscious on the ground, his body pale and drenched in sweat, though Lisa’s constant healing light kept his heart steady. His reckless triumph against Erebus had stirred both awe and doubt in the squad, but it had left them battered in more ways than one.

And yet, there was no pause.

The devil’s sinister laughter still rattled across the chamber, reverberating against the unseen walls of darkness. Its voice was amused, almost too pleased with how events had unfolded. It declared the fight a draw despite Loren’s final strike—mocking them by summoning a new champion: this time not a beast, but something far worse. A humanoid figure emerged, shrouded in obsidian armor, its face carved with devilish features, eyes glowing like molten embers. Unlike Erebus, this one carried intelligence, malice, and authority in every step. The aura alone made their weapons feel lighter, their breath shallower.

The devil called it one of its royal guards. A higher devil.

The squad gathered closer, instinctively forming a loose circle. The tension was palpable.

"Another one..." Zion muttered, his knuckles tightening around his weapon. "He’s not testing us anymore. He’s grinding us down."

"That thing..." Lisa’s voice wavered, though her healing continued to flow over Loren, "...its presence alone is heavier than Erebus. If that’s what he calls a guard, what’s waiting beyond here?"

Hiro remained silent, his sword still sheathed but his body taut, like a spring waiting to snap. His eyes were sharp, watching the new figure carefully, but there was also a weariness around him.

The devil’s words lingered:

That simple command felt heavier than a death sentence.

The squad’s debate began quietly at first, but soon rose like waves against rocks.

"We can’t send someone reckless this time," Zion said firmly. "Vance nearly got himself killed—and us along with him. Whoever goes now must be ready to fight with everything."

"You’re talking as if he didn’t prove himself," Lisa snapped back, though she didn’t look up from Loren. "If he hadn’t stood up to Erebus, we’d all be corpses. Don’t diminish what he did."

"I’m not diminishing it," Zion countered, frustration breaking through. "I’m saying the cost was too high. He fought like a man desperate to be seen, not like one trying to protect us all. That gamble can’t happen twice."

The unspoken question loomed:

Hiro exhaled slowly, drawing their attention. "If anyone should go, it should be me. I’m the captain. Responsibility falls on my shoulders, not yours."

Zion immediately cut him off. "No. A leader stays behind to hold the group together. If you fall, this squad collapses. We can’t risk that."

"And what do you suggest?" Hiro asked sharply. "That we keep hiding behind excuses while the devil toys with us?"

Their voices started to rise, but Misha, who had remained still until now, suddenly stepped forward. Her tone wasn’t loud, but it cut through their arguments like a blade.

"You’re all missing the point."

The group turned to her. Her eyes were calm but carried a restrained fury.

"The devil is playing us. Look back—Erebus was toying with Loren the entire time. It could have ended the fight whenever it wanted, but it dragged it out. And what did we do? We watched. We argued. We forgot "

Her words struck. The silence afterward was suffocating.

"Our mission," she continued, "wasn’t to dance for the devil’s amusement. It was to ensure the gates hold—to support the vanguards, to keep our people alive. Every second we waste here, the lines at the gate weaken. If they fall, if those soldiers are surrounded, then all of this—" she gestured at the battlefield around them—"becomes meaningless. Loren’s struggle, your vengeance, our pride. All worthless."

Mia’s chest tightened. The weight of Misha’s words pressed on her harder than the devil’s aura. It was true. She had let herself be consumed—by Loren’s fight, by the spectacle, by the devil’s manipulations. She had been distracted when she could least afford it.

"Misha..." Hiro began, but even he didn’t have a counter. He knew she was right.

Even Zion bowed his head, silent.

Mia inhaled deeply, then spoke, her voice softer than usual, but steady. "You’re right. I was supposed to be leading this squad, and I let him bait me into his game. I apologize... to all of you."

The others exchanged glances, surprised by her open admission, but none disagreed.

Lisa finally looked up from Loren, her hands glowing faintly as she finished her healing for the moment. "Then what do we do now? If we refuse his game, he’ll crush us anyway. If we accept, someone must go. Someone strong enough to make it matter."

The devil’s presence loomed over them, patient yet expectant, like a cat watching trapped mice.

Misha folded her arms. "Then there’s no debate. We send our strongest."

Her gaze moved deliberately toward Mia.

The room fell into silence again, but this time it wasn’t empty. It was filled with realization.

Zion was the first to break it. "Misha’s right. As much as it hurts to admit, Mia’s our best chance. Loren fought with everything and barely managed a draw. If this... royal guard... is even stronger than Erebus, then no one else here can stand against it."

Lisa frowned, worry written across her face. "But if we send Mia, we’re putting our leader in danger. What happens to the squad if she falls?"

"She won’t," Zion said firmly. "Because she can’t. That’s the difference between her and the rest of us."

Hiro’s jaw clenched, his pride warring with reason. He wanted to argue, to put himself forward, but even he knew the truth. Mia was the strongest among them. Her rank, her mastery, her composure—even shaken, she surpassed them all.

Mia closed her eyes for a moment, letting the decision settle over her. The weight was heavy, but it wasn’t unfamiliar. This was what leadership meant—choosing not only for herself but for everyone.

When she opened her eyes, they burned with quiet resolve. "Then I’ll go."

Lisa looked ready to object again, but Hiro raised a hand to stop her. He met Mia’s gaze with a soldier’s solemnity. "...We’ll hold the line for you. Whatever happens."

The squad gathered around her, not with words of encouragement, but with silence that carried trust. Each of them had their doubts, their fears, their regrets—but in this moment, they placed everything on her shoulders.

The devil, watching the debate unfold with evident amusement, leaned forward in the shadows. Its grin widened, sharp and satisfied.

Mia stepped forward into the circle of light where the higher devil awaited, her figure steady, her aura restrained but unmistakable. She was no longer the distracted commander, no longer weighed down by the guilt of hesitation.