Parallel Memory

Chapter 685: The Collapse of the Abyss

There was no sound at first.No movement.Only light.

It consumed everything—the kind of brilliance that stripped all color, all meaning, all life. The moment Aamon’s spear collided with the twin forces of frost and shadow, existence itself screamed. Every atom of the collapsing world was ripped apart and rewritten a thousand times within a heartbeat.

Zero didn’t hear it happen. He only felt the surge.

His body disintegrated, not in pain but in pure overload—his senses burning out one by one until all that was left was the awareness of falling. His soul flickered like a dying star, still tethered by the fragile connection he’d forced upon reality. He tried to move, to breathe, to even think, but time no longer existed.

The blast had broken it.

For an endless instant, there was only the struggle of three beings at the center of creation’s collapse.

The Emperor of Destruction was the first to react. His borrowed shadow-body fractured under the sheer energy ripping through it, cracks glowing red-hot as the black veins along his arms ignited. Yet his eyes—cold, ancient, defiant—remained fixed on Aamon.

He moved forward, one step at a time, through the storm that erased everything. Darkness swirled from his fingertips, wrapping around the Devil King’s chest like chains of pure will.

Aamon roared, thrashing, wings flaring wide, shattering the chains almost immediately. "You think you can bind me, Emperor? Even in your prime, you failed to tame your own power!"

The Emperor smiled faintly, his skin flaking into motes of darkness. "Then let’s call it poetic. I’ll fail again... but I’ll make sure you fall with me."

Aamon thrust his spear through the Emperor’s torso, impaling him. The wound burned with divine fire, consuming half his body in a heartbeat.

The Emperor didn’t flinch. Instead, his hand clamped around the spear’s shaft, black flames racing up his arm. "Zero," he said quietly, voice barely audible through the collapsing world. "Finish it."

Zero’s consciousness, barely clinging to existence, stirred. His name—his will—answered the call.

He couldn’t see his body anymore. It had dissolved long ago. But his soul still pulsed with frost. Somewhere, deep in the blinding storm, he reached out—toward the only thing left he could feel.

Cold. Darkness. And Aamon’s overwhelming flame.

The trinity of powers collided.

For a brief instant, everything stopped.

The shockwave erupted outward, a tide of annihilation that swept through the entire dimension. What had been the throne room expanded, broke, and then folded into itself like shattered glass. Light twisted into spirals, darkness fell upward, and gravity forgot its purpose.

Aamon’s roar became a wordless cry of fury as his armor shattered, crimson light spilling from his wounds like liquid suns. The Emperor’s shadow body disintegrated fully, vanishing into the maelstrom with a faint smile still frozen on his lips.

Zero—what was left of him—stood in the middle of the explosion. Or perhaps he was no longer standing at all. His body, made of frost and bleeding light, melted into particles, but his soul clung to the stabilizing anchor he’d created earlier.

His voice echoed weakly across the collapsing void."Freeze... everything..."

The frost answered him.

Like the whisper of a dying god, the world turned white. The explosion halted mid-motion, frozen in a suspended state, crystallized across all directions. Even the flames of Aamon’s power became ice sculptures—terrifying, beautiful, and utterly still.

But it wouldn’t hold. Not for long.

Cracks spiderwebbed through the frozen explosion, spreading faster than thought. Aamon’s eyes snapped open within his icy prison, blazing with unstoppable rage. His divine essence ignited again, melting the frost from within.

"Even in the end," he thundered, "you resist inevitability! But fate cannot be rewritten by defiance!"

The Emperor’s voice—faint, disembodied—answered through the remnants of shadow still clinging to existence."Then perhaps... fate needs to be destroyed first."

Aamon’s flames flared, shattering the frozen explosion completely. The released energy detonated anew, this time spreading not as light but as distortion. Reality itself folded, tearing open massive rifts that connected to other realms. Space inverted.

Through one of the rifts, Zero’s fading consciousness saw the real world—the plains beyond the Devil King’s domain, where Kaelion’s army was still fighting for survival. For a fleeting moment, he saw the Saintess’s golden light holding back corruption, Mia’s blue flames tearing through legions, and Seraphine’s banners fluttering against the red sky.

He realized then that they were still fighting. Still believing.

He couldn’t let it end here.

Zero reached out, his soul straining past the rift. Every ounce of remaining mana surged outward, coiling around Aamon’s essence. He poured his life force into the collapsing anchor, forcing it to fuse with the Devil King’s aura.

The effect was immediate. The expansion halted again, and this time, the collapse inverted—imploding rather than exploding. A vortex formed at the center of Aamon’s throne, pulling in every fragment of shattered matter, every drop of flame and frost.

Aamon’s roar became a growl of disbelief. "You... would sacrifice yourself for this dying world!?"

Zero’s voice was a whisper now. "Not sacrifice... choice."

The vortex swallowed them both.

The Emperor’s lingering consciousness smiled as his shadow fragments spiraled toward the center. "So be it," he murmured. "Two who defy fate... until even fate itself shatters."

Then, silence.

The collapse reached its peak—then, with a soundless implosion, the world vanished.

No fire. No frost. No darkness. Just a void of quiet gray mist where the Devil King’s domain had once been.

Outside, far above the frontlines, the sky changed.

Every soldier—human, elf, and beastkin alike—stopped mid-fight. The air, heavy with corruption moments ago, suddenly cleared. The red glow that had dominated the heavens dimmed, replaced by a faint silver hue.

Kaelion, standing atop the battered fortress wall, stared upward as the black clouds split apart. "What... in the name of the gods..."

Adeline clutched her staff tighter, her eyes reflecting the vanishing rift in the sky. "That light... it’s from the Devil King’s realm."

Mia and Nock, still fighting through the remnants of the devil army, felt the same surge—the echo of something colossal ending far away.

For the briefest second, they all felt it.

A pulse.A heartbeat.And a voice—distant, fading—carried by the wind.

"It’s not over yet..."

Then the horizon erupted.

A shockwave of white and black light burst across the battlefield, sweeping through the ranks of devils, disintegrating thousands in an instant. The force threw Kaelion and the others back, shaking the land itself. When the radiance faded, a crater remained in the far distance—vast, silent, and still.

The Devil King’s domain was gone.

And with it, so were the ones who defied him.

Far beneath that silence, in a world beyond both life and death, frost and shadow stirred once more. Two voices—one calm, one fading—spoke through the void.

"So this is what remains of the world between..."

"Did we... win?"

"No. Not yet. We only bought time."

"Then let’s use it well."

A faint shimmer of light formed—a fragment of Zero’s soul, still burning.

And deep in that mist, something else moved—something dark, and faintly smiling.

The Emperor of Destruction whispered:

"Then let’s finish what fate started."