Parallel Memory

Chapter 691: THE FALL OF THE MUSCLE-BORN DEVIL

Aaron’s knees struck the ground again.

Once.

Twice.

A third time—this one harder, cracking the scorched earth beneath him.

For a moment he didn’t understand why he couldn’t stand. His body had always obeyed him. His muscles had always been absolute. He had been born under the Devil King’s lineage—not as a cunning tactician or a gifted spellcaster, but as a force of nature. A living juggernaut. A hammer that broke armies.

Strength was his gospel. His pride. His identity.

Yet now...

His legs trembled like wilted pillars.

His arms felt heavy—foreign, even.

And for the first time since birth, his heart pounded from something other than battle-lust.

Strain.

Weakness.

Fear.

Hiro stepped forward, sword dragging behind him with a weary scrape. The faint flicker of flame around him dimmed with each breath he stole, but he refused to waver.

Behind him, Mia stabilized her stance, icy mist coiling from her blade like a quiet threat. Her eyes were laser-focused, sharp enough to cut Aaron without lifting her sword.

Lisa, Sylvia, Zion, and Misha fanned out, forming a semicircle around Aaron—boxed in from every direction.

The moment was small. Simple.

Yet Aaron felt trapped for the first time in his life.

********************************************

"Stay close," Mia murmured.

Her voice was soft—but Aaron flinched as if struck. There was confidence there. Cold, razor-sharp certainty. The kind that only came when a person knew they could win.

Hiro nodded. "He’s losing his balance. Keep up the pressure—we don’t give him even one breath."

Misha cracked her knuckles, eyes blazing. "I’ll take his other arm when he moves."

Zion lifted his palm. Pebbles floated around him before sharpening into spear-like shards. "I can collapse the ground beneath him. He won’t regain footing."

Sylvia’s spear twirled, wind curling around its edge. "I can pin his wings. He won’t take flight."

Lisa nocked another glowing arrow. "And I’ll make sure he can’t see straight, even if he tries."

Aaron looked at each of them—these insects, these fragile humans who should have been crushed beneath his heel—and felt something unthinkable churn in his chest.

A memory.

A voice he despised.

His older brother.

Aamon.

Or rather—

the words Aamon had told him hundreds of times before.

"Strength without strategy is just noise, Aaron. You can punch a mountain, but if you don’t know what direction the battlefield is moving—you’ll lose before you even know you’re fighting."

Aaron had laughed back then.

Strategy? Tricks? Tactics?

He didn’t need them.

He crushed. He broke. He overwhelmed.

That was all that mattered.

But here, surrounded by six humans he should have slaughtered hours ago...

Aamon’s words returned like a whisper of doom.

Aaron clenched his teeth hard enough to crack enamel.

"D-don’t mock me...!" he snarled, struggling to stand. "You insects—stop looking at me like that!"

No one spoke.

No one needed to.

Their silence was an answer in itself.

They weren’t afraid of him anymore.

************************************************

Hiro stepped forward and raised his sword. Flames sputtered at the tip—not nearly as bright as before—but it was enough.

"Everyone," he said, "on my mark."

Aaron roared and sprang forward, swinging a massive arm toward Hiro’s skull—

But Misha was already there.

Her foot slammed into Aaron’s elbow with a sickening crunch, throwing his strike wide.

"Your arms are too slow now," she spat.

Zion slammed his palms against the ground. Stone erupted beneath Aaron’s feet, tripping the giant devil mid-charge.

Sylvia dashed in from the side, spear spinning, slicing across Aaron’s thigh. Wind pressure exploded on impact, staggering him sideways.

Lisa fired three arrows at once.

One embedded in his temple.

One pierced through his shoulder.

One buried in his collarbone.

Aaron roared in agony, jerking toward her—but Mia intercepted.

Her blade traced a line across his chest, frost spreading instantly over the wound.

Hiro leapt into the air above them all.

"NOW!"

Heat erupted from his sword.

Flame Art – Falcon Descent!

He descended like a meteor, flame trailing behind him in a long arc—

Aaron raised his arm in defense—

But the combined earlier attacks had already weakened him.

Hiro’s blade crashed through Aaron’s guard, slicing down his arm and carving a burning gash across his shoulder.

Aaron bellowed—an earth-shaking, agonized sound.

The ground trembled from the impact. Dust and ash spiraled upward. The force of the blow pushed the devil to one knee again.

He tried to stand.

He really did.

Every muscle in his body swelled. Blood vessels bulged along his arms. His wings trembled, flaring open.

But the holy mana poisoning his body—the miracle soaking the battlefield—twisted inside him like barbed chains.

His strength rebelled against him.

And this time...

He couldn’t rise.

Not fully.

Not fast enough.

Not before six humans attacked in perfect synchronicity.

******************************************************

Misha was first.

She vaulted onto Aaron’s giant forearm, ran up his limb, and slammed her heel into the side of his head. Aaron toppled sideways.

Zion followed, raising jagged pillars of stone that pinned Aaron’s movement, locking his legs in place.

Sylvia’s winds slashed across his face, forcing his eyes closed.

Lisa’s golden arrows pierced any exposed weak points they could find, burning holes that sizzled with holy resonance.

Mia appeared before Aaron as his eyes opened—her blade resting at his throat.

Her breath was steady.

Composed.

"Raw power isn’t enough," she whispered. "Not anymore."

Aaron’s vision blurred.

He heard another voice overlap hers—

Aamon’s.

"You’ll regret ignoring everything except muscle, little brother."

Aamon’s voice wasn’t mocking.

It was disappointed.

Aaron felt something sharp twist in his gut.

Regret.

An emotion he had never allowed himself to feel.

And it hit him harder than any of the humans’ attacks.

******************************************************

Hiro landed beside Mia, sword pointed low but steady.

"Let’s finish this."

Aaron’s head jerked up, teeth bared. "I won’t—fall to—humans—!"

But his body betrayed him.

His left arm hung uselessly.

His right leg spasmed.

His wings drooped, dragging against the ground.

His breath shook, the holy mana suffocating him from the inside.

He could still swing.

But he could no longer win.

Hiro and Mia moved together.

Fire.

Ice.

Two extremes joining into a single spiral of destruction.

"Dual Art—"

Aaron’s eyes widened.

He tried to lift his arm.

Tried to gather mana.

Tried to do anything—

But Zion’s stone spikes locked him in place.

Sylvia’s wind held down his wings.

Lisa’s arrows shattered his focus.

Misha’s fist collided with his jaw, snapping his head sideways.

"Crimson Frost—"

Light swirled between Hiro and Mia.

Opposites entwining.

Flame and frost merging in perfect harmony.

"—Requiem!"

The attack detonated point-blank.

Aaron’s roar drowned in the explosion.

Flame burned through his muscles.

Frost encased his bones.

Holy light seared into his corrupted essence.

His massive form rocked backward—

—and crashed into the ashen ground with a thunderous, earth-splitting impact.

Silence followed.

Deep.

Heavy.

Absolute.

Steam rose from Aaron’s ruined body. His limbs twitched once, twice—then went still.

Not dead.

Not yet.

But broken.

His breath came in shallow rattles.

His eyes, once wild and proud, now stared blankly at the dark sky.

Not at the humans.

Not at the battlefield.

At his memory.

At his brother’s face.

Words echoed through his failing mind—

"Strength is a tool. Not a plan. You wield it like a club and expect the world to kneel?"

He had snarled back—

"If I hit hard enough, the world WILL kneel."

Aamon’s reply felt colder now than any frost Mia had conjured.

"No, Aaron. You’ll kneel first."

And he had.

Exactly as foretold.