Parallel Memory

Chapter 681: The Emperor’s Awakening

Darkness was his domain.

And yet, for the first time in countless lifetimes, even the darkness felt tainted.

The Emperor of Destruction opened his eyes within the vessel Zero had given him—the shadow body wrought from dark mana, forged in defiance of fate. The world unfolded before him like a dying star—blinding, trembling, bleeding light that screamed of corruption divine.

He flexed his new hand slowly, feeling the texture of existence ripple beneath his palm. "Hmph," he murmured, voice deep, resonant, and dangerous. "A fine vessel… far sturdier than I expected from a mortal boy."

Around him, Aamon's throne room trembled as if the realm itself rejected his presence. Black marble peeled and reshaped under invisible strain, each pulse of the Emperor's aura colliding with the Devil King's dominion.

He could feel Aamon's power seeping into the world—a divine infection disguised as flame. It wasn't just mana. It was something more—divine corruption, crawling through reality, rewriting it molecule by molecule.

He's using creation itself as a weapon, the Emperor thought. Not destruction, not dominion—corruption.

He turned his gaze toward the towering figure before him. Aamon stood calm and radiant in that infernal way, his crimson aura spreading outward like blood soaking into silk. Every step he took warped the ground into burning sigils, his presence alone rewriting the room's law of existence.

"So," Aamon said, voice smooth and reverent, "this is your trump card. A fragment of something… older. Not human, not divine, not even demonic." He smiled thinly. "What are you, exactly?"

The Emperor smirked. "The question isn't what I am, but why I'm here."

He stepped forward, shadows twisting beneath his feet like living storms. "You've been a thorn in existence for far too long, Devil King. It's time someone reminded you that creation's arrogance always ends the same way—ashes."

Aamon's grin widened. "How bold. How very… familiar."

Their gazes locked, two ancient forces examining one another through the fragile skin of a dying world.

Inside his mind, the Emperor felt the pull of his connection to Zero. It was faint but unbreakable—a tether between will and shadow, between heart and void. He gave me his essence… and trusted me to wield it, the Emperor thought. Foolish child. Brave child.

For all his disdain of mortals, something about Zero's defiance stirred something deep within him. The boy hadn't begged for salvation. He'd offered his own soul as a weapon. A deal among equals, the Emperor realized, a dark grin tugging at his lips. No chains. No servitude.

He reached into the depths of his new form, feeling power flood his veins—pure destruction layered over the shadow's foundation. It was intoxicating and terrifying all at once. But beneath it, a whisper echoed—Aamon's divine energy pressing in, trying to devour his essence.

Aamon's voice slithered through the air. "Do you feel it, intruder? My divinity coursing through your form?"

The Emperor didn't answer. He could feel the truth of it—the Devil King's energy invading every corner of this realm, sinking into his flesh, testing his limits.

He's trying to consume me, he realized. He believes corruption can claim destruction itself.

Aamon raised his hand. The world responded immediately. Dozens of crimson spears formed from pure condensed divine flame, humming with an impossible vibration. Each one was capable of annihilating a city.

"Let's see if you can survive, shadow," Aamon said. "Perhaps you'll amuse me for longer than your human half did."

The Emperor extended his hand, and the air exploded.

Shadows erupted like a flood, swallowing the light whole. Every spear Aamon threw vanished into the black void before touching the Emperor. The darkness didn't just absorb—it devoured.

The sound that followed wasn't an explosion—it was silence itself cracking.

Then, from within that void, a voice spoke—not aloud, but into Aamon's soul.

"You speak of divinity," the Emperor whispered, "but what you wield is nothing more than borrowed ruin. You twist creation to serve destruction. But I am destruction."

The Devil King flinched—not visibly, but within the subtle tremor of his aura.

Aamon's grin returned quickly, but the flicker of caution lingered. "Big words from a being who hides inside another's shadow."

The Emperor's golden eyes narrowed. "And yet here you are, burning the world to hide your fear."

Their auras collided—black and red. Shadow against flame. Destruction against corruption. The palace buckled as reality screamed, unable to sustain the weight of their clashing truths.

For a heartbeat, the world forgot what light and darkness were. There was only force.

Aamon staggered a step back, the grin fading from his lips. "You're stronger than I anticipated."

The Emperor tilted his head slightly, voice calm and precise. "You're weaker than I remember."

"…Remember?" Aamon's tone darkened. "You speak as if you've known me."

The Emperor said nothing at first, then smirked faintly. "In every world that fell before this one, there was always someone like you—a god who thought themselves eternal. You all end the same way."

Aamon's eyes narrowed, his flames burning higher. "Then come, shadow. Let's see if your end will be any different."

Outside, the shockwaves of their clash tore through the skies of the devil domain. Entire mountain ranges collapsed, seas of blood turned to vapor, and the horizon burned white with conflicting energies.

Far from the throne room, the surviving SS-ranked heroes halted mid-battle again.

Mia felt the pulse hit her chest like a hammer. Her breath caught as the world blurred for an instant—she could see the two presences colliding far beyond human comprehension. "That… it's happening," she whispered.

Seraphine pressed a hand to her chest, her divine wings flickering weakly under the strain. "The power inside the palace—it's unreal… it's beyond even Aamon."

Nock's hands trembled as he steadied a fallen soldier. "No… that's not beyond. That's opposite. It's as if light and darkness are trying to erase each other."

Valen's eyes glowed faintly, his blade humming. "Then we hold this line," he said firmly. "Whoever's fighting in there—they're giving us a chance to live."

The battlefield roared once more.

The humans, battered and bloodied, rose again, their spirits reignited by the pulse of defiance that echoed through the air.

Back inside, the Emperor's grin widened. He could feel Aamon's corruption trying harder now, eating away at the edge of his dark aura. But with every inch it gained, his own destruction swallowed twice as much.

"You cannot devour me," he said quietly, stepping through the flames. "You can only feed me."

Aamon's fury finally broke through his composure. He roared, his wings unfurling wide enough to split the walls, the full weight of his divine corruption crashing down upon the Emperor.

The impact shattered the palace.

Black and crimson light tore through the world, and for one blinding moment, all of Edolas could see it—two gods of ruin clashing above the mortal plane.

In that moment, Zero's faint consciousness stirred within the shadow's core, whispering a single thought:

Hold him, Emperor. I'll finish this… soon.

And the Emperor of Destruction, for once, smiled ready to cause destruction and defy destiny