Parallel Memory

Chapter 677: When the Heavens Tremble

The morning that followed wasn't a sunrise—it was a flicker of gold buried beneath choking clouds of ash. The air was heavy with dust and blood, thick enough to sting the eyes and burn the lungs. Every soldier who still stood could feel it—the trembling of the world beneath their boots.

Kaelion stared across the shattered plain from what was left of their command ridge. The Saintess's barrier had been stretched thin, its light now faint and unsteady, like the last glow of a candle fighting the wind. Below him, the surviving forces of the vanguard were reorganizing into battered lines, tending to the wounded, salvaging weapons from the fallen.

Behind him stood Nock, Seraphine, Darien, and the Saintess herself. None of them spoke at first. There were no words strong enough to soften the sight before them.

The Devil King's palace loomed on the horizon—unchanged, untouched, and worse yet, alive. From its base, a black tide was pouring forth. The devil army, once scattered and wounded, now moved with terrifying precision. Columns of armored beasts, winged elites, and shadow-cloaked generals marched in perfect rhythm, their banners glowing faintly with Aamon's sigil.

It wasn't a march of war anymore. It was an execution order.

Kaelion's hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. The blade hummed faintly in response, reacting to the tension coursing through him. "They're not chasing us," he said finally, his voice low, grim. "They're advancing. This isn't pursuit—it's conquest."

Nock's face was pale as he traced runes into the dirt, measuring mana fluctuations. The readings made his hands tremble. "Their energy output… it's growing with every step. It's like the ground itself is feeding them. If they reach the frontier, everything between here and the Holy City will burn."

Seraphine spat onto the ground, her knuckles white around her halberd. "We can't stop that. Not like this."

"Then we buy time," Kaelion said, turning to face them. "Enough time for the reinforcements from the northern front to arrive. Enough for the Saintess to restore her divinity and rebuild the barrier."

Darien, his armor cracked and his face streaked with dried blood, shook his head. "There are no northern reinforcements. We lost contact two days ago. The devils breached the eastern corridor near Fort Avaris. If Aamon's forces are already moving here…" He swallowed hard. "There's no one left to call."

Silence followed.

The Saintess—her robes now torn, her light faint but still beautiful—stepped forward. Her voice trembled, but her eyes held firm resolve. "Then we must stand here. Even if this ridge becomes our grave."

Kaelion didn't argue. For once, even he had no words of reassurance left.

The ground quaked again—stronger this time. The air rippled as something massive stirred in the distance. And then, faintly, across the ashen plain, they saw it: a colossal shadow rising behind the devil army.

It wasn't Aamon.It was something else—an enormous figure clad in crimson armor, its form barely visible beneath the distortion of heat and mana. A high-ranking general, no doubt, sent ahead to break the remaining defenses.

Seraphine's eyes narrowed. "That's not just a general. That's one of Aamon's royal guards."

Kaelion's expression hardened. "Then he's the vanguard of their next wave."

He turned to Darien. "What of the relic?"

Darien pulled it from beneath his cloak. The sacred relic pulsed faintly, its light erratic, weaker than before. "The Pope's power inside it is fading. It won't last much longer outside the Holy Domain. If we use it now, it might burn out completely."

Kaelion nodded. "Then we wait until it matters."

He looked out again—at the distant army, at the darkened horizon. He could see the shape of the world breaking apart, piece by piece. The sky shimmered with faint distortions—remnants of shockwaves still bleeding from the throne room where Zero and Aamon fought, though no one here yet knew the cause.

The heavens themselves trembled. The cracks of light above them resembled torn glass, glowing faintly blue before fading.

Seraphine noticed it too. "The sky… it's splitting again."

Nock looked up, horror dawning on his face. "That's no storm. That's spatial distortion. The battle inside the palace—it's reaching out here."

Kaelion's jaw tightened. "Then we hold. If the world itself is about to fall apart, we'll make sure we're still standing when it does."

He raised his sword high, its blue light igniting the ridge like a beacon. "Form the wall!" he bellowed. "Archers to the rear! Barrier units, front and center! Every second we stand is a second the world can still breathe!"

The soldiers below, weary and broken as they were, rallied once more. Shields locked, blades steadied, chants began to echo through the ranks. The Saintess lifted her staff, channeling what remained of her divinity into the barrier that shimmered faintly over them.

The devil army began its advance.

The first wave struck with the force of a thunderclap—massive beasts crashing against the barrier, claws raking through the air. Explosions of black flame tore through the front line, and Kaelion met them head-on, his blade carving through the darkness like lightning through storm clouds.

Seraphine leapt into the fray beside him, her halberd cleaving through horns and steel. Nock's chants filled the air with light, divine bolts raining down to burn through the devils' ranks.

And still, they kept coming.

The crimson-armored general stepped forward at last, towering over the chaos. His voice echoed like thunder, speaking in the devil tongue. "Your world ends here, humans. Your light dies at the gates of Perdition."

Kaelion pointed his sword at him. "Then let's see which burns out first—our light, or your shadow."

The general laughed, and the heavens shook again.

From high above, a massive shockwave rippled outward—blue and white colliding in the distance. Everyone paused, even the devils, as the sky cracked open once more.

Kaelion looked up, heart pounding. He didn't know it, but what he was witnessing was the echo of Zero's clash with Aamon—two powers so immense that their fight had reached the heavens themselves.

The Saintess fell to her knees, clutching her chest. "That energy… it's the same one from before. It's… him…"

"Who?" Seraphine shouted over the noise.

The Saintess didn't answer. Her gaze was fixed skyward, her lips trembling.

The world groaned again, a deep, dreadful rumble spreading across the plains. The horizon itself seemed to warp under the pressure.

And then came the sound—distant but unmistakable. A roar that wasn't human, wasn't divine. Something between.

Kaelion's heart froze. "What was that…?"

Nock's voice shook. "Whatever it was—it's not of this world."

The heavens trembled once more, and the battle resumed, fiercer than ever.

The devils surged forward with renewed fury, the vanguard met them head-on, and amidst it all, Kaelion's thoughts drifted only to one truth—this wasn't the end of the war.

It was the moment the world itself began to fracture beyond repair.