Parallel Memory

Chapter 678: Ashes Beneath the Throne

The battlefield had collapsed into chaos long ago.

The western courtyard of the Devil King's palace, once a place of black marble and carved pillars, was now a cratered ruin, torn apart by the clash of mana storms. Fire licked through shattered archways; the very air trembled with the pressure of colliding energy.

And at the heart of it—Mia Frostine and Hiro Azell were still standing.

Barely.

Hiro's sword was cracked along its edge, flickering with the faint remnants of his lightning aura. Mia's once-flawless silver armor was scorched black in places, her pale hair matted to her cheeks with blood. They had fought together, their rhythm born of years of training and battles side by side, yet even together, their combined strength was being crushed beneath the overwhelming power of their opponent.

Aaron—one of Aamon's four royal vassals—stood before them, unscathed, his smirk widening with each passing minute. His crimson cloak fluttered in the wind of his own destructive aura, his eyes glowing like molten gold. Each time he swung his spear, the air screamed, and every blow carved rifts through the floor.

"Your resistance is admirable," Aaron said, his voice calm, almost conversational as he twirled his spear. "But futile. You two burn your souls just to scratch my armor. How quaint."

Hiro spat blood, raising his blade again. "Keep talking, demon. Maybe it'll distract you long enough for me to take your head."

The devil chuckled. "Take my head? You can barely stand."

And then he was gone.

In the blink of an eye, Aaron's spear was at Hiro's throat. The sound of impact came a heartbeat later—a sharp crack as Hiro's blade intercepted the thrust, his feet dragging deep furrows in the marble. Sparks flared, lightning met shadow, and the world erupted in a deafening roar.

Mia leapt in from the side, her hand glowing with frostlight. She struck Aaron across the chest, sending a freezing pulse through the air. Frost crystals formed instantly, spreading along his armor—only for the devil to laugh and shatter them with a shrug.

"Beautiful," Aaron said, the compliment genuine. "That level of mana control… you must be the famed Saintess of Ice. I almost regret killing you."

Mia didn't waste her breath on a reply. Her eyes flashed, and in a surge of mana she unleashed her strongest technique.

"Frost Domain — Eternal Silence!"

The world dimmed.

A cold wind burst from her body, freezing the air, the ground, even the light itself. The marble under their feet turned to glassy frost, the flames extinguished instantly. For a brief moment, everything stilled—the battlefield itself seemed to hold its breath.

Aaron paused, tilting his head. His crimson aura began to fade under the frost's encroachment.

For the first time, Mia thought she had him.

But then his grin widened. "Fascinating."

A pulse of black-red light erupted from his chest. The frost shattered. The pressure hit them like a hurricane, throwing both Mia and Hiro backward.

When the dust cleared, Aaron was still standing, the ground beneath his feet glowing with infernal sigils. His spear burned with black fire now, each movement heavier, faster.

"He's getting stronger," Hiro muttered, eyes narrowing as he steadied his stance.

"No," Mia said, voice trembling. "He's… feeding on our mana."

Aaron laughed again, lifting his spear skyward. "You're perceptive, Saintess. The more you struggle, the more you sustain me. Every ounce of divine energy you release strengthens my core. You've been fighting a losing battle since the first strike."

Hiro grit his teeth. "Then I'll stop holding back."

He closed his eyes, drawing the last of his strength. Lightning arced across his body, sparking wildly. The air buzzed with his power. And then—his blade blazed white, and he roared:

" Starfall: Morningstar"

The attack tore through the courtyard like a storm given form. Bolts of divine lightning rained down, consuming everything in a blinding cascade. Aaron raised his spear to block—but the impact sent cracks racing along his armor at last.

For a heartbeat, Hiro felt hope.

And then the smoke cleared.

Aaron stood there, bleeding slightly from his shoulder. Just a drop. A single drop. He touched it, looked at the red stain on his finger, and smiled as though it amused him.

"Well done," he said. "You've made me bleed. That's rare."

Mia staggered to Hiro's side. Her mana was running dangerously low, her breathing ragged. "He's toying with us."

"Yeah," Hiro muttered, lightning flickering weakly around him. "But I'd rather die fighting than crawl away."

Aaron's smile softened. "You humans are fascinating creatures. So fragile. Yet so unwilling to accept your limits."

He raised his spear again—and the air split apart.

A shockwave of black flame erupted outward, swallowing the courtyard in a violent explosion. The soldiers stationed near the perimeter were thrown into the air like leaves in a storm. The marble walls crumbled, statues shattered, and for a brief instant, the world turned to chaos.

Zion, Lisa, Sylvia, and Misha could only watch from the safety of a collapsed archway. They had long since realized they were powerless in this fight. The pressure radiating from the clash of SS-ranked beings was enough to paralyze them.

Sylvia's hands glowed faintly as she pressed healing magic into Vance's chest. The young heir was half-conscious, his body broken from his earlier duel, his breathing shallow. "Hold on," she whispered, voice shaking. "You'll be fine. Just stay with me."

Misha's fists were clenched so tight her knuckles bled. "We can't just watch! They're dying out there!"

Lisa grabbed her arm. "Misha, stop! You step in that field and you'll die before you can take a single step. Their mana output—it's not human anymore!"

Zion's gaze never left the battlefield. His voice was low, calm, but strained. "No… it's not just their mana. Something's changing."

"What do you mean?" Lisa asked.

He pointed toward the distant palace. "Can't you feel it? There's something worse inside. Something far beyond Aaron."

Even as he said it, the world trembled. A deep, low vibration spread through the air, shaking the very stones beneath their feet. Dust fell from the ruined arches. The light dimmed again.

Within the palace—something awoke.

For a moment, the battlefield froze. Aaron's grin faltered as he turned toward the throne room. A faint pulse of dark-blue energy rippled outward—subtle, but ancient, heavy with power that didn't belong to mortals or devils.

Then it was gone.

Aaron blinked once, lips curling into a curious smirk. "Well, well. It seems my king's entertainment has begun."

Mia frowned, lowering her staff. "What are you talking about?"

Aaron's eyes gleamed. "The throne room. That pulse wasn't mana—it was consciousness."

*************************************************************

Inside the Throne Room

Darkness.

Then breath.

Zero's lungs convulsed as air rushed back into them, his chest heaving as if he'd been underwater for an eternity. His eyes snapped open—staring into the shattered ceiling above him.

The world around him was frozen.

Aamon stood a few steps away, his massive frame still poised mid-motion, one clawed hand extended, black energy gathered at his fingertips. The attack that had torn through Zero moments ago still lingered in the air, its echo like a whisper of death.

But Zero was alive.

Barely—but alive.

He coughed, forcing himself up. His body screamed with pain, every nerve burning. His armor was half gone, his shirt soaked in blood, but his heart still beat.

"...So," he rasped, his voice hoarse, "I'm not… dead."

Time was moving again.

Aamon blinked once, his expression shifting from cold amusement to mild surprise. Then, slowly, he lowered his hand.

"Well," the Devil King said, his tone almost approving. "That was unexpected."

Zero didn't answer. He steadied himself, his hand trembling as he summoned a faint flicker of blue aura. It was weak, uneven, but alive.

Aamon's crimson eyes studied him carefully. "My attack should have erased you. Even your soul should have been scattered by now. Yet here you stand, breathing, conscious. How intriguing."

He stepped closer, the weight of his presence bending the air around them. "Tell me, boy. What are you?"

Zero exhaled slowly. His memories of the subconscious realm—the place of darkness and light—still lingered, vivid as flame. There, time had flowed differently. He had fought himself, faced his fear, and seen the truth: power in this world was not defined by rank, but by will.

He looked up at Aamon, meeting his gaze. "I'm human."

The Devil King's grin widened. "Human, yes… but not bound by what humans call strength. You exist outside their hierarchy—beyond their foolish system of ranks and blessings."

Aamon's claws flexed, and he chuckled slowly. "A rare treasure indeed. The humans breed mediocrity, yet somehow, one of them dares to defy the order of power itself."

He leaned closer, voice dropping to a whisper that resonated through the hall. "You, Zero Elea, are not measured by the scales of the world. You are something… else."

Zero's gaze hardened. His breathing steadied. "You talk too much."

Aamon laughed—a deep, resonant sound that shook the pillars around them. "Good! Defiance even in ruin. That's what I wanted to see!"

The throne room began to tremble. Shadows gathered around Aamon like a storm.