Parallel Memory

Chapter 700 700: When Light and Darkness Became One

The world trembled the moment the two powers finally aligned.

The swirling frost and annihilating darkness—two forces that should have never existed in harmony—tightened into a single point between Zero and the Emperor of Destruction. A soft hum vibrated through the battlefield, subtle at first, like the low resonance of distant thunder. Then the pressure doubled, tripled, until the entire palace ground began sinking under their feet.

The final convergence had begun.

Zero felt his mana core ache as the two forces spiraled inward, compressing and folding over each other in perfect synchronicity. His ice mana, naturally cold, dense, and stable, carried the steady clarity of winter. The Emperorʼs destruction force, volatile and vast, carried the crushing weight of oblivion.

The two should have clashed.

But instead—they danced.

The spiraling aura compressed further, the light dimming until only a faint circle of frost remained. The Emperor raised a hand, palm outstretched, and Zero mirrored him. Frost threads extended from Zeroʼs fingers. Dark threads extended from the Emperorʼs. The two threads twisted together, weaving like the twin flows of a cosmic river. And then—

It shrank.

The massive force that had radiated like a storm condensed into something impossibly small. Something that defied what mana should do. A single droplet—not liquid, not solid—something that existed between states. White on one side, pitch-black on the other, each half swirling in constant motion, neither overpowering the other.

A bead of pure unison.

The air froze in reverence.

The ground knelt.

It was like witnessing yin and yang being born—not in myth, not in allegory, but in raw destructive form.

Even Aamon faltered.

Even the devils holding their positions involuntarily stepped back.

Even the humans—those who had barely regained their balance—felt the instinct to kneel from the oppressive presence of that single droplet.

Then the Emperor finally spoke.

”Zero,” he said, voice low but resonant, ”you truly are a genius.”

Zero blinked, breath staggered. Compliments from the Emperor of Destruction were rarer than miracles. But the ancient figure continued:

”To imitate the structure of Cataclysmic Destruction… and refine it into this level on your first attempt—your mastery is beyond extraordinary. Even I required centuries to understand this form.”

Zeroʼs throat tightened. Praise didnʼt matter. Praise wasnʼt what he needed. All he needed was strength—just enough to end this.

Still, the Emperorʼs words lodged themselves deep in his chest.

He didnʼt allow himself to look away from the floating sphere, their completed Unison Raid.

”Focus,” Zero whispered, ”we only get one chance.”

The Emperor nodded, and the world shifted as he placed both hands forward. Zero did the same, their palms aligning as the droplet rose between them, quivering with unstoppable force.

Across the battlefield, Aamon widened his stance, wings flaring out so violently that the air tore with the movement. His dark mana erupted around him as he raised his claws toward the sky, forming a dome-like structure around his body.

A shield.

Not just a shield—Aamonʼs absolute defense.

Aamonʼs voice boomed:

”This is your final gamble, humans! If your pitiful attack cannot surpass my shield—your existence ENDS here!”

His mana surged, swirling into a massive barrier of pure dark pressure. The ground twisted as corrupted cracks spread from his feet like spiderwebs. Aamonʼs entire form darkened, layers of shadow overlapping like hardened armor.

He was preparing for the end.

He believed that if he could withstand this one attack, victory was certain.

And perhaps he was right.

Zero didnʼt look at him.

Instead, he whispered the final activation.

”Unison Raid—Release.”

The droplet moved.

Silently at first.

Then—

BOOM.

The world detonated.

A beam—neither frost nor darkness, yet both—exploded outward, ripping through the air like a spear forged of winter and annihilation. The light was blinding, but it carried the cold of an eternal grave. A rushing roar swallowed the palace in a deafening wave.

The attack collided with Aamonʼs shield.

And the collision wasnʼt simply violent—it was apocalyptic.

The sky fractured open, a colossal spiral of clouds ripping away as the shockwave punched upward. The ground beneath Aamon cracked in every direction, entire slabs of reinforced stone being ripped up and thrown into the air. The palace floor was shredded, twisted as though the earth itself was trying to escape the collision.

Aamon braced with a roar, both wings wrapping around the shield. Shadows condensed into thick layers, then denser, then denser still as the unstoppable stream of Unison Raid hammered into it.

”IMPOSSIBLE—!!!” Aamonʼs roar echoed, trembling, cracking under the force.

The shield splintered.

Then shattered.

Then the beam continued—unstopped.

It tore through Aamonʼs defenses like brittle glass, ripping into the palace walls with thunderous destruction that swallowed everything in its path. Rooms exploded, corridors collapsed, entire towers were erased into dust. Chunks of stone spiraled into the air before being crushed into powder by the residual frost-dark pressure.

The attack raged on.

Seconds felt like centuries.

The palace—once grand and ominous—was reduced to ruins.

When the beam finally faded, silence drowned the battlefield.

For a moment, no one dared breathe.

A few fragmented pillars still stood—tilted, cracked, but upright. Slivers of walls remained, some half-dissolved by frost, others blackened by destruction mana. Dust settled in a heavy fog that drifted across the broken floor.

Zeroʼs body shook.

His vision blurred.

His mana core was empty.

Beyond empty—drained so thoroughly he could barely keep his eyes open.

His legs buckled.

The Emperorʼs form flickered beside him, his outline wavering before his presence slowly began melting into the shadows behind Zero.

His time in this realm had run out.

”Zero,” the Emperorʼs fading voice rumbled, ”you surpassed every expectation. To unleash this level of force, with your current foundation… you are a harbinger of change.”

Zero barely heard him.

He was searching—desperately—for one thing.

Was Aamon gone?

Was it finished?

Was all of this suffering, all of this pushing, all of this fighting to rewrite the ending… was it enough?

Zero lifted his head weakly, his breath cutting short.

Through the dust…

A figure stood.

Aamon.

His silhouette wavered, his breathing ragged, his body scorched and torn beyond recognition. One wing was missing. His right arm trembled violently. His frame shook from the sheer force he had endured. He was bleeding—devil blood dripping into the cracked ground beneath him.

But he was alive.

He was still standing.

Zeroʼs heart plummeted.

His vision dimmed.

His knees hit the ground.

Was it… a failure?

He felt numb.

Not the numbness of frost… but of hopelessness.

His mind spiraled inwards.

Did he fail?

After everything?

After clawing through hell inside the tower?

After surviving beasts stronger than him?

After regaining memories he didnʼt ask for?

After nearly losing his sanity in the dimension of darkness and light?

After enduring the crushing despair of seeing versions of himself stronger than anything he could imagine?

Was he still… not enough?

His fingers dug into the ruined stone, but he couldnʼt feel its texture. His body had lost sensation entirely. His lungs barely drew air.

Was destiny truly… unchangeable?

Was he never meant to be the one to win this fight?

The thought hit harder than Aamonʼs attacks.

He wasnʼt the protagonist.

He wasnʼt the chosen hero.

He was Zero—

the background character.

the forgotten one.

the one who filled the spaces between other peopleʼs destinies.

He told himself it was fine.

If he failed… Hiro and the others would finish the fight.

But was that true?

Or was he simply comforting himself?

His eyes fluttered shut.

He felt the Emperorʼs presence fully retreat, sliding back into the shadows, leaving Zero alone with the ruins and the unbearable truth.

Aamonʼs ragged breathing echoed faintly.

Zero couldnʼt look up anymore.

He didnʼt have the strength to deny it.

He didnʼt have the mana to stand.

He didnʼt have anything left.

So, as the world dimmed into a fog of dust and exhaustion, only one question burned in his collapsing consciousness—

Did he fail?