Parallel Memory

Chapter 523: Flashback to the Tower of Obelisk

After she gave me the map, I left to look for Lilith.

I made my way through the barracks filled with stern faces, their expressions carved from stone—soldiers trained for war, hardened by duty. Their eyes didnʼt linger, but I could feel the weight of their discipline. Seeing those expressions brought back memories of Lilith—it was the same look she had when we entered the Tower of Obelisk almost a year ago, her jaw tight, her steps precise, her mind focused like a sharpened blade.

(Flashback to the Tower of Obelisk)

I had just cleared floor 26 of the tower, my lungs still burning from the last battle, but to understand the true extent of my strength, to measure the edge of my blade in this new reality, I decided to keep climbing. My initial goal—the Dragon Heart—was already secured. A treasure so rare and potent, most wouldʼve stopped there and turned back. But I wasnʼt done.

After giving Lilith the Spirit Amulet, my hope that it would help her faded quickly. It seemed to have no effect at all. There was no change in her expression, her movements, or her tone—because she had none. Her condition remained the same: silent, obedient, unfeeling. That, more than anything, was a bitter disappointment.

I continued scouting floor 27 using the mana battery-powered drone camera Iʼd crafted earlier. I relied on it heavily now, guiding it silently through corridors and passageways. As expected, the monsters on this floor were stronger—more aggressive, more cunning. I quickly learned to ignore the groups of low-level beasts. Fighting them was a drain on time and energy. Only those that posed a real threat were worth the trouble.

A few weeks passed. We were still on the 27th floor.

I finally caught the location of the floor boss. But I didnʼt rush in. Instead, I took it slow. Along the way, I deliberately engaged several high-ranked monsters. Some had absurdly high defense, which made the battles tedious and draining. It pushed my endurance and mana pool to the limit. At times, I barely made it through the fight, forcing myself to retreat and rest for a couple of days to recover. I was fighting to test myself, after all.

Even while challenging these powerful enemies, I never lost sight of the real prize. I kept a careful eye on the floor boss: a Purple Dwarf Cyclops. Unlike the usual mindless brutes, this one was cunning and vicious. It had a unique ability—forming a hexagon-shaped lightning cage to trap its targets. Once caught, it would hurl volatile lightning orbs into the enclosure, delivering deadly shocks that could char the flesh of even A-rank adventurers in seconds.

After several more days of watching it from the shadows, learning its rhythm and patterns, I was ready.

Its skills were troublesome, but not without weaknesses. Iʼd studied its movements for days, watched how it paced, how it reacted to sudden noise or mana fluctuations. The Cyclops was fast—faster than me—and whenever I tried to close the gap, it would vanish from my sights, using its immense legs to reposition rapidly. Ranged attacks didnʼt work either. My Shadow Ice Shards shattered harmlessly against the barrier it used to shield itself.

So I adapted.

I launched a Blizzard Storm to cloud its vision and reduce visibility. Simultaneously, I spread a trap of ice over the battlefield—a field laced with hidden Shadow Cryo Bombs. Each bomb was keyed to react to movement. If the Cyclops ran, it would trigger the entire array.

And just as I predicted, when the storm began to clear, it made a move. Its giant foot landed on one of the bombs.

There was a sudden boom, followed by a cascade of cracking frost. The Cyclops was caught in the trap—ice crawling up its limbs, locking its joints, slowing its movements.

That was my moment.

I dashed forward and drove Raijinʼs Edge deep into its chest, cutting through its tough hide and finishing the fight with one clean strike.

The adrenaline burned in my blood, roaring like fire in my ears. But as the battle high wore off, the exhaustion set in. My entire body felt like it had been dipped in molten lead. Every movement was heavy. My arms trembled, my legs barely carried me.

I turned, scanning the quiet stone corridor behind me, and saw Lilith—just standing there, watching from a distance. She had remained motionless the entire time. Her face was blank, her golden eyes devoid of any life. Like she was sleepwalking through the world.

We moved to a small alcove tucked away behind a jutting wall of stone, not far from a cluster of glowing blue mana crystals. The air felt calmer there. While it wasnʼt an official safe zone—this floor didnʼt have any—it was a low mana turbulence area, which made it unlikely for monsters to wander too close. It would have to suffice.

I erected a small tent and reinforced it with a basic barrier formation. The barrier wasnʼt meant for battle, just an alert—it would trigger a flare if anything larger than a rabbit approached.

Lilith sat down beside a small fire I lit using mana flint and kindling from a previous floor. She didnʼt speak. She didnʼt even look at me. Her posture was flawless, but there was no soul behind it. She didnʼt blink often, nor did she seem to register her surroundings.

I settled down next to her, groaning softly as the dull ache of overused muscles reminded me of every swing Iʼd made. Still, my eyes wandered to her face.

Her hands were folded in her lap, her shoulders square, her gaze lost in the fireʼs flicker. She was here. But also… not.

”Do you remember the time we used to chase fireflies in the back hills of Star City?” I asked gently, trying to keep my voice warm. ”You caught them in jars, remember? But they stopped glowing by morning, and youʼd cry.”

No answer. Not even a twitch.

”You said they lost their magic because we stole them from the sky. You actually believed they came from stars,” I added with a quiet chuckle.

Still nothing.

But then—just for a second—I thought I saw her fingers move. A faint twitch. Almost unnoticeable.

I sighed and rubbed my face. Maybe I was reaching. But I couldnʼt help myself.

”Youʼre still in there, arenʼt you?” I asked, more to the fire than to her. ”Even if itʼs just a little piece.”

She gave no indication she heard me.

But she hadnʼt left either.

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We stayed in that alcove for three full days. I spent the time tending to my wounds with healing magic, meditating to circulate my mana and restore stability. I went through drills, refined my movement and footwork, practiced spell sequences for faster casting under pressure.

Lilith never spoke. Never even stood. But she never left either. She sat nearby, watching me—always watching.

And I took that as a sign.

Maybe her mind was trying to resurface, piece by piece. Maybe familiarity, repetition, and memory would bring her back.

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On the fourth day, I rose before dawn. My armor was freshly cleaned, my sword polished, scrolls packed, gear checked twice. I felt ready again.

”Itʼs time,” I said, standing at the entrance of the alcove.

Lilith looked up at me slowly, her blank expression unchanged.

But she was watching.

And that was enough