Parallel Memory

Chapter 695: The Moment the Dragon Fades

The collapsing palace groaned like a dying beast.

Stone walls twisted as if writhing in agony, marble pillars warped into jagged spirals, and cracks split the sky into thousands of glowing fragments. Every breath tasted of mana—dense, metallic, electric—as if the entire world were being rewritten in real time. The fractured dimension Aamon had forged was falling apart under the weight of holy mana leaking in from outside and the brutal clash of three overwhelming powers inside.

Zero sprinted across a breaking platform of obsidian marble, his boots skidding as a claw of demonic force tore through the air behind him. He didn’t look back. He didn’t need to.

Parallel Memory had already shown him the swing.

Shown him the angle.

Shown him how close it would come to taking his head off.

Zero twisted, ducked, and countered with a slash of compressed draconic force. His claws—gold-rimmed and scale-covered—sliced across Aamon’s extended arm. The devil staggered, not from pain, but from the sudden shift in momentum forced upon his massive frame.

Every attack Zero made felt impossibly crisp.

Every dodge was timed within fractions of a heartbeat.

Every strike the Emperor delivered landed with destructive precision because Zero’s movement created perfect openings for him.

This wasn’t coordination.

This wasn’t skill.

This was inevitability.

Zero had already seen thousands of variations—how the fight could unfold, how it could fail, where each attack would miss, where each step could collapse into disaster. Parallel Memory fed him every possibility, every thread, every future mistake before it happened.

He wasn’t moving fast—

He was moving correctly.

Aamon felt it. The world felt it. Even the Emperor of Destruction cast the occasional glance at Zero, as if quietly impressed.

"YOUR GAMES—END HERE!"Aamon’s voice ripped through the dimension like thunder.

The devil slammed both hands into the ground.

The palace floor shattered.

Wave after wave of demonic power surged outward, swirling into pillars of molten black energy. The air rippled painfully around Zero, heat scorching across the remnants of his scales.

Zero leapt into the air.

Parallel Memory showed him which pillars would erupt first.

Which ones would collapse.

Which ones would explode in volatile arcs.

He soared between two of them—only for Aamon to appear behind him in an instant.

"You think you can predict me?" the devil snarled.

He swung a fist the size of a boulder.

Zero twisted midair and the punch skimmed his shoulder rather than crushing his ribs. Gold sparks shot off the impact. His bones creaked. Pain lanced through him—but he moved anyway, sliding along Aamon’s arm and delivering a cross-slash toward the devil’s throat.

Aamon blocked with his forearm, but the Emperor was already behind him.

A massive foot collided with Aamon’s spine, sending the devil crashing forward. Zero dove with him, slashing downward again and again, each strike carving deep into Aamon’s demonic armor.

Blood—black and steaming—splattered across the air.

Aamon roared, half in pain and half in fury.

Half in—Grief.

"My brother..." Aamon’s voice was strained, trembling. "I felt him disappear."

Zero didn’t slow.

Neither did the Emperor.

Aamon slammed his palm into the ground again, ripping open a chasm of molten shadow between the three of them. Zero vaulted over it, landing lightly on the devil’s arm. His claws sank in. His muscles burned from the heat.

Aamon’s face twisted—not with anger, but with something else.

A hollowness.

A crack in the mask.

"Humans..." Aamon hissed through clenched teeth. "You never understand... the cost of strength!"

Zero met his eyes head-on.

Aamon faltered.

Because Zero’s eyes weren’t filled with mockery or triumph—But with something unexpected.

Understanding.

"Then teach me," Zero said.

Aamon froze.

For a heartbeat, the collapsing world seemed to go silent.

Zero continued, voice trembling with conviction—not fear."If strength alone is everything... then why did Aaron die shaking? Why were you the only one holding this collapsing dimension together? Why were you fighting alone? Why..."

Zero stepped forward.

"Why do you look like someone who’s already lost everything?"

The Emperor of Destruction actually paused his attack, amusement flickering in his ancient eyes.

Aamon’s expression fractured.

Not physically.

Emotionally.

"For eons..." Aamon whispered, voice cracking. "It was always just the two of us. We were supposed to rise together. To avenge our kind. To conquer the worlds that wronged us. Together."

Zero quieted.

The Emperor stilled.

Aamon’s aura dimmed around the edges, shimmering like a dying flame.

"We became devils... because we wanted strength. Because we refused to break."His lips twisted, anguish bleeding through."But Aaron... he never wanted any of this. He only followed me because he had no one else."

Zero inhaled, feeling the weight behind those words settle on him like lead.

Aamon wasn’t angry because Aaron died.

He was angry because Aaron died in pain.

Broken.

Conflicted.

Scared.

And Zero stepped forward—not as a warrior, not as a hero, but as someone who understood what it meant to carry pain alone.

"You didn’t grow stronger," Zero whispered. "You just forgot why you wanted to."

Aamon’s aura shattered around him, flickering violently—Not from fury,But from a wound deeper than any blade.

The atmosphere changed.

Even the Emperor noticed.

But then—

The first crack formed across Zero’s arm.

A glowing fissure of light.

Zero blinked.

The scales along his forearm flickered...Then faded.

"No... not now," he breathed.

Another crack shot across his ribs. The golden glow dimmed. His draconic claws receded, turning back into human hands. His skin paled from gold to its natural tone.

His time was up.

The Dragon Force—

Had reached its limit.

Parallel Memory flashed a prediction:

If he didn’t move—

Aamon would strike.

If he did move—

His body wouldn’t keep up.

Zero’s heart plummeted.

"Damn it—!"

His knees buckled as the last remnants of draconic energy evaporated from his limbs. His strength plummeted. His vision blurred. The world that had slowed into crystal clarity suddenly snapped forward into real-time, overwhelming his senses.

Aamon’s eyes sharpened."Your power... is gone."

Zero staggered.

The Emperor of Destruction shifted sideways, ready to intercept—but even he could sense Zero’s body collapsing.

Aamon’s aura surged.

"You thought you could keep up with me... with borrowed strength?"

Zero lowered his head, panting.

His chest screamed.

His bones throbbed.

Sweat mixed with blood along his jaw.

For the first time since the fight began—

Zero felt small.

Weak.

Human.

His trump card, his only lifeline in this impossible battle, had burned out far too soon. The holy mana outside was boosting everyone—but it wasn’t enough to replenish a power that wasn’t his to begin with.

Aamon took a single heavy step forward.The world trembled.

Zero’s heart filled with dread.

I can’t win like this.

Not like this.

Not without Dragon Force.

Aamon lifted his hand—

A mountain of force gathered above his palm.

Zero looked up...

And for the first time in a long time—

He felt genuine fear.

He thought of Mia.

Of Hiro.

Of the Elven Kingdom.

Of Lilith.

Of every step he had taken to reach this point.

Is this really it?

Is this where he falls?

Where his second life ends?

His fingers trembled.

His throat tightened.

"...No," Zero whispered.

The world held its breath.

"No... it’s not over."He clenched his jaw hard enough that blood filled his mouth."I’m... not done."

He forced his trembling legs to hold.

Forced his lungs to draw breath.

Forced his mind to steady.

"It’s not over until one of us falls."

Aamon’s attack descended like a collapsing sun—

—And Zero moved.

Not with draconic strength.

Not with overwhelming power.

Not with destiny.

But with everything a human body could give.

With grit.

With pain.

With stubborn, relentless, unyielding will.

His muscles tore.

His bones screamed.

His breath cracked.

But he moved anyway, dodging at the very last instant, sliding beneath the tidal wave of demonic force. The attack ripped the palace apart behind him.

Aamon blinked in surprise.

The Emperor actually smiled.

Zero spat blood, wiped his mouth, and lifted his daggers again—hands shaking violently.

"This..." Zero said between ragged breaths, "isn’t power borrowed from dragons."He stood tall."...this is mine."

Aamon snarled.

The Emperor stepped forward.