Parallel Memory

Chapter 657: The world trembles

The world screamed.

Not in words, not in sound—but in vibration. The mana veins that flowed beneath the lands of Edolas shuddered as if something ancient and forbidden had been ripped from its sleep. From the skies above the Human Domain to the frozen spires of the Northern Elves, even to the uncharted seas where storms never ceased, all living things felt it.

A pulse of dark crimson energy rippled outward from the Devil King's palace. Birds fell mid-flight, beasts cowered in the forests, and even the oceans quivered beneath its weight.

At the frontlines, Kaelion's troops halted mid-charge as the red shockwave hit them. The ground itself seemed to exhale, an eerie wind rolling across the battlefield. The Saintess, glowing faintly with divine light, fell to one knee, her breath ragged.

"Commander," she whispered, "the balance… it's breaking."

Kaelion could feel it too. The world's mana—usually calm, flowing like water—was now raging like a flood. His sword trembled in his grip, not from fear, but from resonance. Even his well-trained body struggled to stay upright as he felt a surge of power far beyond mortal reach erupting from within the palace.

"This is no mere awakening," Kaelion muttered, eyes fixed on the crimson sky. "This is the rebirth of a god."

The Saintess pressed her trembling hands to the ground. Her blessing flared, stabilizing the soldiers around her, but she could barely keep it up. "I… I can't hold this much distortion, Kaelion. The mana flows are tearing apart everything holy!"

Kaelion's jaw tightened. The entire army was caught between disbelief and dread. They had fought monsters, generals, even devils—but what was happening now was something no war council could ever prepare for.

From behind the storming clouds above, lightning danced violently—gold meeting red. And for the first time in centuries, the mana currents of Edolas began to twist in reverse, spiraling toward one point.

Toward the throne room.

Inside the Devil King's palace, silence was an illusion.

The grand hall—the throne room—was no longer made of marble and obsidian. Its structure pulsed like a living heart, walls expanding and contracting with each breath of the being within. Crimson light poured from the cracks in the floor, illuminating the figures standing at its center.

Aamon, the Devil King, sat upon his throne—though "sat" was hardly the word anymore. His form was changing, his aura spilling into the air in thick waves that distorted space itself. His horns glowed brighter than molten iron, and the once-golden chains binding the seat were now melting away, one by one.

And standing before him, silent as a shadow, was Zero Elea.

The boy's dark cloak fluttered in the whirlwind of energy, his hand gripping his blackened sword. His expression remained unreadable, but his eyes were locked on Aamon—cold, sharp, and calm.

He had seen this before. Not this exact sight, but something close—through fragments of his Parallel Memory. The moment a calamity awakens. The moment a world forgets how to breathe.

Aamon's deep voice broke the stillness. It echoed—not through the air, but through the mind."So… you've come alone."

Zero didn't reply. He didn't need to. The weight of his mana spoke for him, dark frost spiraling around his feet.

The Devil King smiled faintly, as though amused by the silence. "I can feel the world tremble again. It's been centuries since the last time the heavens shivered at my name. Do you know what this means, human?"

Zero slowly raised his sword, the icy mist surrounding it sharpening into jagged patterns. His voice came low and steady. "It means you were asleep too long."

Aamon chuckled, the sound deep and heavy. "And yet you are not afraid."

"I've seen death," Zero said, eyes narrowing. "And I've seen what comes after."

The Devil King's crimson eyes glowed brighter. "Interesting. I almost pity you."

A crack thundered across the floor between them—mana clashing before a single strike was even thrown. The air around Zero froze into crystalline shards while Aamon's presence melted them instantly, creating steam that blanketed the hall.

The throne behind the devil began to dissolve, turning into a pool of living darkness. The awakening wasn't complete, but it was enough to make even the heavens outside quiver.

Aamon tilted his head slightly, studying the boy before him. "You're not one of Kaelion's pawns. You walk differently. Your mana… carries something else. Tell me, who sent you?"

Zero's grip tightened around his sword. "No one."

That one word cut through the storm like a blade.

For the first time, Aamon's grin faded into genuine intrigue. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his clawed hand. "No one? Then you came here by your own will?"

Zero didn't answer. The ice beneath his boots spread faster.

Aamon's laughter echoed, filling the chamber. "You remind me of someone. A mortal who once walked into my domain, years ago, wielding a sword that defied my flames. He died screaming."

Zero raised his gaze slightly, the faintest trace of emotion flickering in his eyes—pain. "That's what you devils do, isn't it? Take pride in killing the ones who fight back."

"And you humans," Aamon said, his tone calm but sharp, "take pride in dying for hope that never lasts."

Their auras collided again—this time strong enough to shake the entire palace.

Outside, Kaelion and the others felt the tremor. The Saintess gasped, looking toward the heart of the castle. "That presence… it's not Aaron's. It's something else!"

Kaelion's expression turned grim. "The Devil King has awakened."

He clenched his sword, whispering under his breath, "And someone is already there."

The world of Edolas groaned as two powers clashed unseen.

Storms raged where the skies had once been clear. The divine towers of the Elves flickered with warning sigils. The mana channels through every city hummed with instability, as though the planet itself feared what was unfolding.

And deep within the Devil King's palace—hidden from the world—two forces of impossible contrast collided:Dark against darker.

Zero's eyes gleamed cold blue, his cryomancy fusing with shadow. His blade hummed with energy—frost and void intertwining like breath and death itself.

Aamon, now fully awake, rose from his throne, his immense wings unfolding behind him, each feather made of burning red mist.

"Then let us see," the Devil King rumbled, "how far your defiance will take you, little shadow."

Zero didn't reply. He only took a single step forward. The floor beneath him froze solid, spreading in every direction—reaching even the throne itself.

And for a fleeting instant, both their eyes met—king and challenger, devil and man, destruction and defiance.