Parallel Memory

Chapter 681: The Emperor’s Awakening

Darkness was his domain.

And yet, for the first time in countless lifetimes, even the darkness felt tainted.

The Emperor of Destruction opened his eyes within the vessel Zero had given him—the shadow body wrought from dark mana, forged in defiance of fate. The world unfolded before him like a dying star—blinding, trembling, bleeding light that screamed of corruption divine.

He flexed his new hand slowly, feeling the texture of existence ripple beneath his palm. ”Hmph,” he murmured, voice deep, resonant, and dangerous. ”A fine vessel… far sturdier than I expected from a mortal boy.”

Around him, Aamonʼs throne room trembled as if the realm itself rejected his presence. Black marble peeled and reshaped under invisible strain, each pulse of the Emperorʼs aura colliding with the Devil Kingʼs dominion.

He could feel Aamonʼs power seeping into the world—a divine infection disguised as flame. It wasnʼt just mana. It was something more—divine corruption, crawling through reality, rewriting it molecule by molecule.

Heʼs using creation itself as a weapon, the Emperor thought. Not destruction, not dominion—corruption.

He turned his gaze toward the towering figure before him. Aamon stood calm and radiant in that infernal way, his crimson aura spreading outward like blood soaking into silk. Every step he took warped the ground into burning sigils, his presence alone rewriting the roomʼs law of existence.

”So,” Aamon said, voice smooth and reverent, ”this is your trump card. A fragment of something… older. Not human, not divine, not even demonic.” He smiled thinly. ”What are you, exactly?”

The Emperor smirked. ”The question isnʼt what I am, but why Iʼm here.”

He stepped forward, shadows twisting beneath his feet like living storms. ”Youʼve been a thorn in existence for far too long, Devil King. Itʼs time someone reminded you that creationʼs arrogance always ends the same way—ashes.”

Aamonʼs grin widened. ”How bold. How very… familiar.”

Their gazes locked, two ancient forces examining one another through the fragile skin of a dying world.

Inside his mind, the Emperor felt the pull of his connection to Zero. It was faint but unbreakable—a tether between will and shadow, between heart and void. He gave me his essence… and trusted me to wield it, the Emperor thought. Foolish child. Brave child.

For all his disdain of mortals, something about Zeroʼs defiance stirred something deep within him. The boy hadnʼt begged for salvation. Heʼd offered his own soul as a weapon. A deal among equals, the Emperor realized, a dark grin tugging at his lips. No chains. No servitude.

He reached into the depths of his new form, feeling power flood his veins—pure destruction layered over the shadowʼs foundation. It was intoxicating and terrifying all at once. But beneath it, a whisper echoed—Aamonʼs divine energy pressing in, trying to devour his essence.

Aamonʼs voice slithered through the air. ”Do you feel it, intruder? My divinity coursing through your form?”

The Emperor didnʼt answer. He could feel the truth of it—the Devil Kingʼs energy invading every corner of this realm, sinking into his flesh, testing his limits.

Heʼs trying to consume me, he realized. He believes corruption can claim destruction itself.

Aamon raised his hand. The world responded immediately. Dozens of crimson spears formed from pure condensed divine flame, humming with an impossible vibration. Each one was capable of annihilating a city.

”Letʼs see if you can survive, shadow,” Aamon said. ”Perhaps youʼll amuse me for longer than your human half did.”

The Emperor extended his hand, and the air exploded.

Shadows erupted like a flood, swallowing the light whole. Every spear Aamon threw vanished into the black void before touching the Emperor. The darkness didnʼt just absorb—it devoured.

The sound that followed wasnʼt an explosion—it was silence itself cracking.

Then, from within that void, a voice spoke—not aloud, but into Aamonʼs soul.

”You speak of divinity,” the Emperor whispered, ”but what you wield is nothing more than borrowed ruin. You twist creation to serve destruction. But I am destruction.”

The Devil King flinched—not visibly, but within the subtle tremor of his aura.

Aamonʼs grin returned quickly, but the flicker of caution lingered. ”Big words from a being who hides inside anotherʼs shadow.”

The Emperorʼs golden eyes narrowed. ”And yet here you are, burning the world to hide your fear.”

Their auras collided—black and red. Shadow against flame. Destruction against corruption. The palace buckled as reality screamed, unable to sustain the weight of their clashing truths.

For a heartbeat, the world forgot what light and darkness were. There was only force.

Aamon staggered a step back, the grin fading from his lips. ”Youʼre stronger than I anticipated.”

The Emperor tilted his head slightly, voice calm and precise. ”Youʼre weaker than I remember.”

”…Remember?” Aamonʼs tone darkened. ”You speak as if youʼve known me.”

The Emperor said nothing at first, then smirked faintly. ”In every world that fell before this one, there was always someone like you—a god who thought themselves eternal. You all end the same way.”

Aamonʼs eyes narrowed, his flames burning higher. ”Then come, shadow. Letʼs see if your end will be any different.”

Outside, the shockwaves of their clash tore through the skies of the devil domain. Entire mountain ranges collapsed, seas of blood turned to vapor, and the horizon burned white with conflicting energies.

Far from the throne room, the surviving SS-ranked heroes halted mid-battle again.

Mia felt the pulse hit her chest like a hammer. Her breath caught as the world blurred for an instant—she could see the two presences colliding far beyond human comprehension. ”That… itʼs happening,” she whispered.

Seraphine pressed a hand to her chest, her divine wings flickering weakly under the strain. ”The power inside the palace—itʼs unreal… itʼs beyond even Aamon.”

Nockʼs hands trembled as he steadied a fallen soldier. ”No… thatʼs not beyond. Thatʼs opposite. Itʼs as if light and darkness are trying to erase each other.”

Valenʼs eyes glowed faintly, his blade humming. ”Then we hold this line,” he said firmly. ”Whoeverʼs fighting in there—theyʼre giving us a chance to live.”

The battlefield roared once more.

The humans, battered and bloodied, rose again, their spirits reignited by the pulse of defiance that echoed through the air.

Back inside, the Emperorʼs grin widened. He could feel Aamonʼs corruption trying harder now, eating away at the edge of his dark aura. But with every inch it gained, his own destruction swallowed twice as much.

”You cannot devour me,” he said quietly, stepping through the flames. ”You can only feed me.”

Aamonʼs fury finally broke through his composure. He roared, his wings unfurling wide enough to split the walls, the full weight of his divine corruption crashing down upon the Emperor.

The impact shattered the palace.

Black and crimson light tore through the world, and for one blinding moment, all of Edolas could see it—two gods of ruin clashing above the mortal plane.

In that moment, Zeroʼs faint consciousness stirred within the shadowʼs core, whispering a single thought:

Hold him, Emperor. Iʼll finish this… soon.

And the Emperor of Destruction, for once, smiled ready to cause destruction and defy destiny