Parallel Memory

Chapter 688 688: WHERE HOPE TURNS TO FIRE

The moment the Saintess's miracle exploded across the battlefield, Hiro felt his breath catch—as if the world itself had been holding its lungs hostage until that very second.

He had been fighting for what felt like an eternity, back-to-back with Mia, swords clashing against Aaron's monstrous strength, the devil's every blow rattling Hiro's bones. Sweat dripped into his eyes. His vision blurred. His ribs were cracked from an earlier hit he barely survived. Blood, metallic and warm, trickled from the corner of his lips with every exhale.

And Aaron—

Aaron was a nightmare given flesh.

Every punch carried the weight of a collapsing mountain. Every step forced the earth to groan and splinter. Every breath of his abyssal aura made the air harder to breathe, like smoke filling lungs that weren't meant to endure hell.

Hiro had been fighting on instinct alone, every muscle fiber screaming, every thought drowned beneath the suffocating despair the devil radiated.

But then the golden wave rolled across the ruined plains—

A soft hum at first.

A warmth brushing against his cheek.

A faint glow through the smoke.

Then—

BOOM.

Light engulfed everything.

Time itself seemed to slow, the battlefield drowning in a radiance so pure that Hiro's vision went white for several seconds. When the brightness faded into a gentle shimmer, the world around him felt changed—lighter, cleaner, as if the air itself had been washed free of corruption.

And as that warmth settled into his skin, something inside him snapped awake.

The pressure on his arms lightened.

The weight crushing his lungs eased.

His heartbeat steadied from panicked throbbing to a steady, powerful rhythm.

Hope—something he had almost forgotten the taste of—ignited like wildfire in his chest.

Mia staggered beside him, gasping as frost-blue mana erupted around her, brighter and sharper than he had ever seen it. The air around her sparkled like winter lights, her blade humming in a resonance that vibrated through the ground.

"Mia—!" Hiro shouted, half in awe, half in disbelief.

But Mia didn't answer.

Her eyes were wide—not with fear, but with realization. She felt the same thing.

Holy mana surged through her veins, weaving into her frost in a way that made her sword glow with a divine brilliance. No longer did her blade shine with the cold discipline of her usual magic. Instead, it radiated warmth within its chill—a paradox of sacred frost.

Aaron snarled.

The hulking devil's body twitched, his massive shoulders tightening as if someone had driven a wedge into his spine. His arms drooped—just barely, but Hiro noticed. The oppressive aura surrounding him thinned, its suffocating pressure lifting enough for Hiro to take a deep breath without his lungs burning.

Mia blinked, her voice trembling. "Hiro… he's weakening."

Aaron's eyes snapped toward her, the whites burning red.

"You humans—what have you DONE!?" His voice cracked, a raw mixture of fury and disbelief.

Hiro lifted his sword, tightening his grip until his knuckles whitened.

"We didn't do anything."

He raised a finger toward the sky.

"She did."

The golden glow from the Saintess's relic pulsed like a miniature sun even from miles away—a beacon of hope that cut through the battlefield darkness.

Aaron roared and lunged—

But something had changed.

He was slower.

Not drastically.

Not clumsily.

Just enough.

Just enough for Hiro to feel his body respond in time for once.

Just enough for Mia to sidestep and bring her sword down in a clean arc across his arm.

And for the first time—

A real wound.Black blood oozed from a shallow cut, sizzling where it hit the ground.

Aaron recoiled with a sharp inhale, as if struck by lightning.

"You—DARE—!"

But the humans were no longer alone.

A streak of shining white mana sliced across the battlefield.

Lisa.

Her arrows of light, once nothing more than faint sparks against Aaron's abyssal skin, now whistled through the air like holy javelins. Three embedded themselves in the devil's shoulder, burning into the flesh with a light that refused to be extinguished.

Aaron snarled, swatting at the bolts as if they were hornets.

Sylvia rushed in next, the wind coiling around her like a dancing storm. She twisted her spear and unleashed a slicing vortex of compressed air that carved a thin line across Aaron's side.

It was small—barely more than a scratch.

But a scratch was more than any of them had managed before.

Zion landed beside Sylvia, fist slamming into the ground.

The earth answered him.

Jagged spikes shot upward beneath Aaron's feet, forcing the devil to stumble backward with a snarl as the ground betrayed him.

And then—

Misha.

She had been the one most powerless in this battle. No matter how hard she punched, no matter how fast she moved, she had been brushed aside every time—like a child swatting at a mountain.

But now, holy mana surged through her body like a second heartbeat.

Her feet dug into the earth.

Her fists trembled with power.

Her expression steeled.

She darted forward, ducking beneath Aaron's arm and pivoting sharply on her heel. Her fist glowed with the rising petals of her family's martial art—barely visible before, now burning with renewed life.

She leapt.

Her knuckles connected with Aaron's jaw.

Crack—

The sound echoed across the battlefield.

Aaron staggered back, bewildered—his expression freezing into something too raw to be called anger.

Hiro grinned through blood-soaked teeth.

"Misha… you actually hurt him!"

Misha wiped her fist with the back of her trembling hand, a shaky smile forming on her lips.

"Told you… I was just tired."

Hiro barked out a laugh despite the situation.

Aaron looked wildly between the five of them—Lisa with her glowing arrows, Sylvia with her spiraling wind, Zion with his earth spikes, Misha with her blazing fists, and the two who had been fighting him nonstop from the start.

He saw something he had never seen before.

Fear.

He realized the battlefield had changed.

Sylvia twirled her spear, wind spiraling around her like a halo. "He's not invincible anymore."

Lisa drew another arrow. "Everyone, support Hiro and Mia—they can finish him!"

Aaron roared so loudly the earth quaked beneath them, his voice tearing the air apart.

"You think THIS can stop me!? This divine FILTH—this cheap PARLOR TRICK!?"

He slammed his fist into the ground.

The shockwave tore through the battlefield—but the humans no longer collapsed.

They braced themselves.

They pushed back.

And for the first time—

They did not fall.

Mia stepped forward, her eyes cold, blade blazing with holy frost so bright the surrounding air crystallized in drifting flakes.

"Hiro… again?"

Hiro inhaled shakily, then nodded, determination blazing in his chest.

"Dual Art."

Their breathing aligned.

Their mana intertwined.

Hiro's flames erupted in deep crimson arcs—violent, hungry, roaring.

Mia's frost spiraled outward in pale blue ribbons—calm, focused, disciplined.

Where the two energies touched, sparks flew—red and blue clashing, merging, dancing in a rhythm only they understood.

Aaron sensed the danger.

He lunged, desperation twisting his expression—but he didn't reach them.

Zion's earth wall rose like a shield.

Lisa's arrows blinded him.

Sylvia's winds cut into his leg tendons.

Misha climbed onto his arm and locked it down with a grappler's hold strengthened tenfold by holy mana.

And then—

"Dual Art—

Crimson Frost Requiem!"

The world erupted.

Hiro and Mia attacked together slamming their skill into Aaron's chest like the wrath of two opposing gods converging upon a single target.

Flame and frost spiraled around the devil, tearing through his flesh, ripping apart his defenses.

Aaron's skin tore.

His muscles ruptured.

His knees hit the ground with a thundering quake.

Hiro stared in disbelief, panting heavily, sword trembling in his hands.

"We… we actually…"

But Mia raised her blade again, her voice composed even as her body shook with exhaustion.

"Don't get distracted. He's not dead yet."

Aaron rose slowly—shaking, bleeding, furious.

And the humans, for the first time—

stood tall.

Ready.

United.

And burning with hope.