Parallel Memory

Chapter 664: The Fracture of Heaven

The battlefield at the gates seemed frozen in a breathless instant—devils and humans alike halted mid-motion, their weapons raised but unmoving. Then, without warning, the world screamed.

A sound unlike thunder tore through the sky—deep, crushing, endless. The light fractured. The clouds split apart as if the heavens themselves had been struck. From the center of the capital, an enormous ripple of energy erupted outward, invisible but overwhelming, flattening towers and hurling soldiers from both sides into the air.

Kaelion barely managed to brace himself with a wall of mana before the wave hit. The ground beneath him caved in, turning stone to dust. "Hold the barrier!" he shouted, though his own voice was drowned beneath the roaring wind.

The Saintess stood a few paces ahead of him, her golden aura flaring to its limit. Her staff glowed blinding white as she spread her arms, extending her blessing to the edges of the battlefield. Divine symbols formed in the air, flickering with each pulse. "I—I can’t hold it much longer!" she gasped, blood trailing from her lips.

"Just a little longer!" Kaelion roared. His eyes darted toward the capital’s heart—the direction of the palace. That was where it came from. The pressure, the distortion, the unimaginable energy tearing through everything. He didn’t need to see it to know.

Something inside that palace had gone far beyond mortal comprehension.

Devils across the field howled in exultation as the shockwave spread. Their eyes gleamed crimson, their strength surging to new heights. Even the weakest among them grew faster, stronger—like they had been baptized by the abyss itself.

Human soldiers were thrown into disarray. Knights staggered as their mana turned unstable. Magic circles collapsed mid-cast. The sky darkened to a violent red, the air thick with a suffocating mixture of divine light and demonic corruption.

"This isn’t just mana overflow..." Nock Fletcher muttered from Kaelion’s left flank, shielding a group of priests with his holy barrier. "It’s like the world’s core is rejecting itself!"

Kaelion gritted his teeth, sweat dripping down his brow. He could feel it too. Every mana circuit in his body screamed. The ground itself felt alive—pulsing with the same chaotic rhythm as that distant clash. "This energy..." he murmured. "It’s coming from beneath the palace... What in the gods’ name is happening there?"

The Saintess’s knees buckled. Kaelion rushed forward, catching her before she fell. Her blessing flickered weakly, dimming until the divine light that had once covered the gates faded entirely.

"Saintess!" Kaelion shouted. "Stay with me!"

Her eyes fluttered open, weak but still burning with resolve. "That power..." she whispered, trembling. "It’s no longer human. It’s something higher. Someone—or something—is clashing with the source of that corruption."

Kaelion’s pupils narrowed. "Someone?"

She nodded faintly, her hand clutching her chest as if feeling the tremor through her soul. "I don’t know who... but I can sense it. Two forces—one of pure despair, and another trying to resist it. Every time they collide, the world itself bleeds."

Before Kaelion could respond, another explosion rocked the distance. A column of black light burst from the palace, piercing the clouds and splitting the sky. For a brief moment, the night returned—then vanished again under the clash of dark and white radiance twisting into each other like two storms locked in endless struggle.

Everyone froze. Even the devils stopped moving, staring in awe or terror.

Seraphine landed beside Kaelion, her wings of flame sputtering as she forced herself upright. "That... that’s not possible," she said breathlessly. "No being alive should release that much power."

Kaelion’s jaw tightened. "Aamon..."

Nock glanced at him sharply. "You think this is the Devil King?"

Kaelion didn’t answer. His gaze stayed locked on the sky, where the two forces clashed—one devouring the other, only to be repelled in turn. He could feel it through the ground, through the air, through his own mana circuits. It wasn’t just destruction. It was rewriting reality itself.

The Saintess groaned softly, regaining some strength as she pressed her staff into the earth. "I can’t repair the barrier," she said weakly. "The divine light doesn’t respond anymore. It’s like something is interfering directly with the Source."

"The Source?" Seraphine repeated, frowning.

"The flow of divine energy that connects our blessings," the Saintess explained, her voice trembling. "Whatever is happening inside the palace is warping it. Every priest, every saint across the continent must be feeling this right now."

Kaelion turned to her, eyes narrowing. "Then this isn’t just our battle anymore."

Nock clenched his fists. "Orders, Commander?"

Kaelion looked over the field—his soldiers struggling to hold the line, the devils’ morale surging with newfound ferocity, the Saintess barely standing, her light dimmed almost to nothing. His mind raced.

They couldn’t retreat. Not now. But if they stayed, they would all be swallowed by that growing storm.

He forced his mana to stabilize, channeling through his sword as the ground split beneath him. "We fall back behind the secondary line!" he commanded, his voice booming across the chaos. "Protect the wounded and keep formation tight! Anyone who can still fight, hold position until the priests are clear!"

"But Commander," Seraphine protested, "if we retreat now—"

"If we don’t," he snapped, "we’ll lose everyone!"

Seraphine hesitated, then nodded sharply. "Understood."

The human army began to withdraw, forming tighter formations under his direction. Shields raised, mages covering from behind, archers retreating in sync. The devils chased, but even their rage couldn’t keep up with Kaelion’s precision. Every step of ground was traded for another minute of survival.

Yet the world above them was tearing apart.

Lightning struck the earth with black fire. The rivers turned crimson as the energy distorted the very elements. Mountains far beyond the capital’s edge cracked open, sending echoes of the battle across the continent.

Kaelion stopped for a moment, turning toward the palace. His eyes narrowed. He could see the faint outline of the throne room tower—half destroyed, glowing from within like a dying sun.

Inside there, something moved.

A presence—so faint yet so familiar—struggled against the overwhelming void.

The Saintess followed his gaze. "Whoever it is," she whispered, "they’re the only thing holding that monster back."

Kaelion said nothing. His grip tightened around his sword. He had fought countless wars, faced hundreds of devils—but never once had he felt so powerless.

The sky above shattered again. This time, pieces of light rained down like broken glass, each fragment burning into the ground with divine and demonic fire mixed together.

The Saintess raised her staff again, summoning a final wave of light to protect their retreating forces. "Kaelion," she said softly, her eyes glowing faintly gold, "if this continues, the entire capital will collapse into the void. Someone has to stop it before it spreads."

Kaelion looked at her, then at the palace once more. "And who," he said grimly, "could possibly stop that?"

The Saintess hesitated—then whispered, "The one who’s already fighting him."

For a long moment, Kaelion said nothing. But deep in his chest, something stirred.

He didn’t know who she meant. None of them did.

But as the sky screamed again and the heavens fractured apart, Kaelion felt it—a faint trace of defiance buried within the chaos.

Someone was fighting back.

And somehow, against all odds, it felt human.