Parallel Memory

Chapter 644: The Devil’s Chosen Battle

The air around the broken temple shuddered as Aaron—the younger brother of the Devil King—stepped forward from his throne of obsidian flame. Every trace of mirth he had worn before had vanished. The remaining devils lining the cliffs and ruins lowered their heads, even the lesser ones trembling as if their instincts warned them that their lord’s presence alone could crush them.

Across the battlefield, Mia Frostine’s squad stood ready. They had seen her shatter the Royal Guard champion earlier; that very fight had sparked a glimmer of hope in all of them. But this was different. The tension pressing down from Aaron’s mana felt suffocating, like an ocean trying to drown their lungs.

Mia clenched her fists, her cold aura intertwining with the fiery heat spilling from Aaron’s form. Frost gathered over the broken ground around her boots, freezing even the blood that had spilled earlier. She could tell—he wasn’t bluffing anymore. This wasn’t another test. This was the real thing.

The devil’s crimson eyes flicked toward her, a shadow of respect crossing his sharp features. "You’re the first human in centuries to make me step forward personally," Aaron said, his tone calm but heavy, resonant like the deep toll of a bell. "I told you before—whether I delay you or destroy you, the outcome remains the same. But since I’ve come to enjoy this little game, I’ll choose the more entertaining path."

"Entertaining?" Hiro scoffed, though his hand instinctively went to his sword. "You think war’s a game?"

Aaron smiled faintly. "Everything is a game to those who’ve lived long enough to see entire empires rise and crumble like waves. My brother loved his strategies, his predictions. He calculated every war before it began. But me..." He raised his hand, flexing his fingers as small bursts of black fire escaped between them. "...I’ve always believed in something simpler. Pure strength. The will to dominate without hesitation. Brains are fragile things—easily undone by one unpredictable swing."

The devil’s statement sent a wave of unease through the human squad. Even Lisa, normally composed, could sense the deeper implication in his words—he wasn’t merely talking about strategy. He was talking about Kaelion’s army, about every human front currently bleeding under the Devil King’s forces.

Mia caught the thought as well, and her jaw tightened. "So that’s your reason," she said quietly. "You think muscle wins every war."

Aaron’s grin widened, exposing sharp teeth. "Not think—know." He stepped forward again, and the ground fractured beneath his weight. "You see, all of this—the champions, the tests—was to measure you. To see if any of you could make me feel something... even a flicker of thrill."

Hiro’s grip on his sword tightened. "Then I hope we disappoint you."

The devil chuckled. "Oh, I doubt that."

Behind Mia, Misha and Vance exchanged glances. The wounds Loren had sustained earlier were still being tended to by Lisa at the edge of the field, though he remained unconscious. They couldn’t afford another drawn-out battle, but they also couldn’t back down. Every second wasted here meant Kaelion’s forces on the outer front would be surrounded.

Mia could sense everyone’s worry even without words. She turned to them briefly, her expression calm yet resolute. "No unnecessary risks. Stay close, protect each other. If he’s measuring us, then let’s give him data that breaks his scale."

Misha gave a short nod. "You make it sound like we’re doing this for fun."

"Maybe we are," Hiro muttered, half-joking, half-serious. "Anything to keep him from thinking he’s already won."

Aaron’s voice interrupted their exchange. "Your little war council bores me. Shall we begin?"

Mia’s eyes met his again. "Not yet."

For a heartbeat, the devil looked amused. "Not yet?"

"We know you," she said firmly. "You talk in riddles, pretend to be reasonable, but everything you’ve done was to buy time. You want Kaelion’s front to fall. You want the Saintess’s blessing to fade before it ever reaches your brother’s walls."

Aaron’s expression didn’t change, but a faint gleam of acknowledgment flickered in his eyes. "You’ve learned to think like your generals. Impressive. But tell me—knowing all that, will it change the result?"

"It might," Mia replied simply. "Because this time, you’re not fighting pawns. You’re facing the ones who survived everything your kind threw at us."

A soft laugh escaped the devil’s throat. "Bold words, little frost queen. But words will melt quickly before fire."

His aura pulsed outward again—this time heavier, darker. The very mana in the air turned unstable, flickering like torn flames in a storm. Rocks began to levitate. The ruined temple columns cracked and collapsed as pressure surged through the atmosphere.

Mia braced herself, raising both arms as the freezing wind around her flared upward. Shards of frost spiraled into the air, forming a glacial storm that met Aaron’s fiery surge halfway. The collision of their auras created a deafening roar, and the others were forced to step back from the sheer force of it.

The clash didn’t even involve physical attacks yet—and already the battlefield trembled.

"This..." Hiro muttered, covering his face from the dust. "This is on another level."

Misha looked toward Mia, her expression unreadable but filled with fierce pride. "And she’s still not holding back."

Aaron tilted his head slightly as if studying her aura with intrigue. "Dual-element compression. Ice and pressure manipulation woven together... your mana control surpasses even most saints."

"I don’t need your compliments," Mia replied.

He smirked. "Then take my respect instead. You’ve earned that much."

For a fleeting second, the two opponents—human and devil—regarded each other as equals. The silent acknowledgment between warriors who understood that what followed would not be a simple exchange of blows, but a clash of belief and will.

Behind Mia, Hiro and Misha began forming a perimeter, preparing defensive formations in case the shockwaves reached them. Lisa, though exhausted, dragged Loren’s unconscious body further back to safety.

Then, in that breath before chaos, Aaron’s tone shifted again—calm, even reflective.

"You remind me of him," he said quietly, his gaze fixed on Mia.

"Who?" she asked cautiously.

"My brother," Aaron said simply. "When he still believed his strength alone could shape the world. Before the fortune teller whispered that he would fall to two humans bearing the blood of heroes. Before fear disguised itself as intellect."

The words cut through the frozen air like a knife. Misha’s eyes widened slightly. Hiro frowned.

Mia kept her expression steady. "And what did you do?"

"I stopped believing in fate," Aaron replied. "And started destroying anything that relied on it."

He raised his hand—and with that motion, the black flame around him exploded outward, forming a spear-like pattern in the air that condensed into a weapon forged purely from mana. The heat radiating from it melted the ice beneath Mia’s boots instantly.

Every instinct screamed that the battle was about to begin.

Mia inhaled slowly, her mana flaring one last time. Her frost aura intensified, coating her fists in solid layers of enchanted ice. "Then I guess I’ll destroy your belief too."

Aaron smiled, dark and eager. "Come, human. Show me the power that makes you think you can rewrite destiny."

The storm between them reached its breaking point—frost and flame spiraling together into an explosive void of pure force.

And just before the collision—just before the first strike that would decide everything—

the scene shifted.

Far away, beyond the collapsing cliffs and the endless demonic battlefield, the skies above the Devil King’s palace began to shimmer.

A light—pure and blinding—descended from the heavens.

The Saintess had unleashed her blessing.