Parallel Memory

Chapter 661: The Collapse of Light

What had once been a pale gray battlefield now burned crimson, thick with the stench of sulfur and death. Every breath seared the lungs. Every heartbeat sounded like thunder beneath the endless chorus of screams and clashing steel.

At the center of the chaos, the Saintess stood unmoving—her staff buried into the shattered ground, golden wings of light unfurled around her. The divine barrier she had summoned earlier still glowed faintly, a shimmering dome of radiance holding back the sea of darkness that pressed from all sides.

But now, even that light was cracking.

Tiny fractures, at first—hairline lines of shadow spreading across the golden surface. Then, one by one, the fractures deepened. The sound was soft yet unmistakable—the delicate ringing of glass about to break.

Kaelion noticed first.

"Saintess!" he shouted from above, barely dodging the blade of a devil general that had cleaved through three soldiers at once. His spear blazed with lightning as he hurled it forward, skewering the creature through its chest. The devil screamed, burned, and melted into black vapor—but the vapor twisted midair and reformed into a newer, stronger shape.

He swore under his breath. "Damn it… even killing them is useless now."

Seraphine swooped down beside him, her wings trailing embers. Blood streaked across her face; one side of her armor had melted from sustained infernal contact. "They're adapting. Every hit we land just feeds them now."

Below, Nock knelt, his staff trembling as he tried to reinforce the Saintess's fading barrier. "The divine resonance is… unstable!" he gasped. His priests circled him, hands joined, chanting through gritted teeth as they poured their faith into the failing light.

But it wasn't enough.

Aamon's awakening had torn through the world's mana equilibrium. Even miles away, they could feel it—the pulsing resonance of an SSS-ranked existence rewriting the laws of power themselves. The devils around them were no longer just monsters; they were extensions of his will.

The Saintess closed her eyes. The golden light around her pulsed in rhythm with her heartbeat, each throb slower than the last. Her lips moved silently—whispering a prayer not to the gods above, but to anyone still listening.

"Not yet… please, not yet…"

The barrier shuddered violently. A single crack snaked across its surface—and the first sliver of shadow pierced through like a fang. The soldiers closest to it screamed as the darkness burned through their armor, eating into their flesh like acid. One fell, then another. The light bent under the strain.

Kaelion descended beside her, slamming his lightning-coated spear into the ground. "Saintess! You can't hold it alone!"

She looked up, her eyes glowing faintly, exhaustion bleeding through her divine calm. "If I stop now, they'll die within minutes."

Kaelion's jaw tightened. "Then we find another way—"

"There isn't another way," Nock interrupted, his voice breaking. "He's reshaping mana itself! Every ounce of divine power we draw is being inverted into darkness!"

The realization struck them all like a hammer.

Aamon wasn't just empowering his army. He was devouring theirs.

Even the Saintess's miracles—the very essence of faith and light—were now tainted, twisted the moment they left her hand. The golden glow dimmed to a sickly gray, the barrier turning opaque as dark veins spread across its surface.

Seraphine landed behind them, panting heavily. Her wings flickered, half extinguished. "I tried clearing the east flank. They're endless now. Every one we kill just reforms stronger. Kaelion, we're fighting ghosts."

Kaelion clenched his fist, the veins on his arm glowing with the electric strain of overuse. "Then we kill their hope before they kill ours."

He raised his spear, gathering every last drop of mana he could muster. Lightning screamed upward, forming a blinding pillar that ripped into the sky. For a brief moment, the heavens themselves seemed to part.

The strike landed with cataclysmic force—obliterating hundreds of devils and gouging a deep scar into the earth.

But when the smoke cleared… the devils were already moving again. Crawling out of the cracks. Reattaching torn limbs. Some even stood amidst their own ashes, their bodies remade in seconds.

The Saintess watched the sight, her heart sinking.

All her healing spells now took twice the effort. Half the soldiers she'd revived earlier had fallen again, their bodies too mangled for her light to reach. She could feel the despair spreading through the army—not just fear, but the breaking of something fundamental inside the human will.

The balance was gone.

Kaelion turned toward her, his expression grim. "Saintess… if this keeps up, we'll lose the front within the hour."

"I know," she whispered, gripping her staff tighter.

The ground trembled again—a deeper rumble this time. From the distance, a fissure split the field, and something enormous began to rise. A grotesque shadow in the shape of a colossal beast, its wings blotting out what little sunlight remained.

Seraphine's eyes widened. "A devil avatar… He's manifesting them now? That shouldn't be possible outside his domain!"

Nock's face was drained of color. "He's expanding his domain to us."

And indeed, as they looked around, the realization became clear—the air itself had changed. The sky no longer shimmered with divine gold, but with the inverted hues of twilight. A veil of black and red spread across the battlefield like an infection. Even the land beneath their feet pulsed faintly, veins of shadow crawling outward from the citadel.

The devils howled as one.

Then the barrier shattered.

A deafening sound—like the world itself cracking apart—tore through the air. Shards of golden light exploded outward, dissolving into motes that faded as soon as they touched the darkness. The Saintess fell to her knees, blood trailing from her lips as the recoil of mana hit her chest.

"Saintess!" Nock caught her before she collapsed entirely, divine energy flaring around his palms as he tried to stabilize her mana core. "You can't use your power anymore—it's rebounding!"

She shook her head weakly. "If I stop… they'll be slaughtered."

But the slaughter had already begun.

Without the barrier, the devils surged like a flood released from a dam. They tore through the front ranks, their claws and fangs cutting through enchanted armor like paper. The human lines disintegrated within seconds—formations lost, screams echoing through the crimson haze.

Kaelion and Seraphine dove into the chaos, carving through the horde in blinding arcs of fire and lightning, but even their strikes now felt sluggish—like fighting against an ocean. Every kill came with a counterstrike; every wound they inflicted healed before their eyes.

"This isn't war anymore," Seraphine shouted over the noise. "It's a massacre!"

Kaelion didn't answer. His spear spun, cutting through six devils in one motion, yet his eyes were fixed on the horizon—the palace, still pulsing like a black heart. "No… it's worse. It's the end of balance."

Above the battlefield, the Saintess's voice echoed faintly, half prayer, half lamentation.

Her power flickered one last time, releasing a weak wave of light that illuminated the fallen.

And for the briefest instant—amid the ruins of the collapsing front—everyone saw it.

A silhouette far beyond the city walls.

A blinding flash of blue and black colliding against crimson flame.

The Saintess exhaled weakly, a single tear sliding down her cheek.

"Then we haven't lost yet."

But as another shockwave tore through the land, even that fragile hope trembled.