Parallel Memory

Chapter 566: The battle awaits

The air inside the Ice Palace was tense, heavy with fatigue and the unspoken dread of what lay outside its frozen walls. Every soldier, mercenary, priest, and archer had been clinging to whatever strength remained in their bodies. The makeshift chambers carved within the crystalline palace gave them shelter, a reprieve from the unrelenting swarm of devils, yet no one could truly rest. The horns of the enemy had sounded all night, their echo vibrating against the barrier like cruel laughter. Even now, the humans stood half-awake, half-dead on their feet, their bodies trembling not only from exhaustion but from the ceaseless anticipation of another strike.

The silence that followed was eerie, almost suffocating. The devils outside had stopped their constant banging. The horns no longer wailed. The humans within the palace dared to hope, though only briefly. Because silence, in the middle of an enemy’s domain, was not safety. It was warning.

And then—it happened.

From the center of the arena, where the stone floor still bore the stains of yesterday’s slaughter, the ground split open with a low, guttural crack. The soldiers in the Ice Palace flinched as a wave of dark energy rippled through the arena, rolling like thunder over frozen walls and even seeping into the lungs of those sheltering within. The Ice Palace groaned under the weight of that unnatural presence, its pristine blue walls flickering as if touched by shadow.

Two figures emerged from the rift.

The first wore a mask. A scary devil faced mask—but what radiated from behind it made the air itself recoil. Dark energy poured from him in waves, twisting the ground beneath his feet until stone decayed into black dust. Every soldier, no matter their rank, felt it. Knees buckled, shields trembled in hands, swords suddenly seemed far too heavy to lift. It was not simply mana. It was a suffocating presence. The masked figure did not need to move, did not need to speak; his very existence pressed upon the arena like the sky itself had chosen to fall.

The second figure, standing slightly behind, bore the unmistakable marks of devil lineage—horns curling from its head, wings stretching wide with a leathery snap. His eyes glowed faintly crimson, and the sharp grin on his lips was enough to chill spines. Yet even with his terrifying aura, it was clear he was not the true threat. Compared to the masked one, his presence was like that of a shadow at dusk, frightening but still bound to natural law. The masked one, however, felt like something outside of nature entirely.

The devil army that had been disorganized and rowdy only moments ago now fell into perfect formation. Weapons lifted. Backs straightened. Not one dared disobey. Their discipline was not out of loyalty—it was fear. Even the lower-ranked devils knew instinctively that in the presence of these two, hesitation meant death.

Inside the palace, the humans trembled. Murmurs broke the silence. "What... what are those things?" one whispered. Another shook his head, too pale to answer. A mercenary dropped his spear, unable to stop his arms from shaking. Even Nock Fletcher, whose shield had never once wavered no matter how many enemies pressed against it, tightened his grip until his knuckles whitened. Seraphine’s jaw clenched, the flame of her spear dimming for just an instant as she processed the weight pressing down on her chest.

But Mia... Mia did not flinch.

Standing tall in the heart of her Ice Palace, the queenly aura about her grew colder, sharper, cutting through the suffocating presence with willpower alone. The masked figure’s energy pressed upon her just as heavily as it did the others, yet her body did not bend. Her frost-laden hair gleamed faintly under the pale light filtering into the palace, and her gaze locked on the intruders with chilling calm. Where others felt despair, Mia radiated defiance.

She clenched her fists, frost beginning to form around them, and for a brief moment, the humans within the palace found their lungs easing. Just seeing her stand unshaken against the monstrous aura reminded them that not all hope was gone.

Still, none dared underestimate what had just appeared.

The masked one tilted his head slightly, as though studying the ice walls, perhaps curious about the queen who dared defy his presence. The devil beside him smirked, his wings stretching wider as if eager to take flight, his crimson eyes scanning the palace as though it were already his prey.

"They... they’re beyond anything we’ve faced," Zion muttered under his breath, gripping the shaft of his spear. Sweat ran down his temple, though the Ice Palace’s air was frigid. "If we fight those two—"

"We’ll die," Lisa finished quietly, clutching her wand so tightly her fingers shook.

Sylvia, standing not far, pulled back the string of her bow instinctively, though no arrow was loaded. Her eyes flicked between Mia’s figure and the shadowy presences beyond the walls. "She’s not afraid," Sylvia whispered, more to herself than anyone else. "Then neither can we be."

Nock exhaled heavily, his shield glowing faintly as he steadied his stance. His voice was low but firm, pitched for those nearby. "If Mia isn’t shaken, then we hold. No matter what."

Seraphine’s fire blazed hotter, licking up her spear, her golden eyes narrowing with battle-readiness. "We’ve come too far to cower now."

But the humans knew—deep down—that this was no ordinary clash.

The masked one raised a hand, and the entire arena shook with the gesture. He did not release an attack, not yet, but the stone beneath the feet of the devil soldiers cracked as if bowing to his command. The devils roared in unison, their renewed discipline transforming into bloodlust. The clash that had been momentarily stalled was about to ignite once more, this time with a new horror leading it.

Inside, the soldiers braced. They were already exhausted, already worn thin by the unending waves of devils. And now, with two monsters beyond imagination appearing before them, their fragile hope threatened to shatter.

Yet Mia’s voice cut through the suffocating tension, sharp and steady as frost on steel.

"Stand firm," she commanded. Her words carried across the chambers of her Ice Palace, echoing down the frozen corridors. "This is no time to falter. If they think we will bow, they are mistaken. Remember—we have survived until now because we stand together."

Her voice, calm but resolute, spread strength into weary limbs. Even Hiro, whose sword arm had been aching from endless swings, found his grip tightening once more. His anger, simmering ever since Xalvar revealed himself, burned hotter when faced with these new figures. His revenge, his purpose, was not done yet.

The devils outside shifted, wings and horns casting shadows across the arena as they prepared to charge anew. Inside, humans raised weapons once again, their fear tempered by the sight of their ice queen standing tall, unshaken, fists clenched and ready.

The armies waited. The clash was inevitable. But now the battlefield had changed. No longer was it merely humans against devils—it was humanity staring into the abyss, and two monsters stepping forward to answer their defiance.

And still Mia did not flinch.