Parallel Memory

Chapter 582: The wardens

The two figures before the iron doors came into clearer view as Zero and Lilith crept closer through the dim corridor. They were nothing like the lesser guards patrolling the upper halls. These were elites—wardens chosen for both their unyielding loyalty and their overwhelming strength. Even at a distance, their presence pressed like an unseen weight on the chest, the kind of aura that made breathing shallow and every step heavier.

Humanlike in form, they carried themselves with an unnatural stillness, like statues carved from onyx, waiting only for a command to spring into life. But the details betrayed what they were. Their black hair gleamed like oil under the flickering torchlight, their horns curling proudly from their foreheads like crowns of bone, sharp and unpolished, as though grown by will and fury rather than nature. Wings folded tightly against their backs twitched faintly with each controlled breath, leathery membranes glinting as if slick with shadow. Every inch of them radiated disciplined menace.

Lilith’s heart clenched as she felt their aura. Marquess rank—at the very least. Perhaps higher. In human terms, that meant S-rank or beyond. Warriors of such level could command armies, bend the tide of battles, or stand against battalions alone. Yet here they stood, relegated to this corridor of stone, guarding a single iron door sealed by runes of crimson flame. The knowledge chilled her—if men of this strength were considered mere wardens here, what monsters still roamed deeper in Aamon’s court?

Zero’s sharp eyes flicked over every detail: the space between them, the distance to the door, the faint glow of the prison sigils, the narrowness of the corridor that would make maneuvering difficult. His mind calculated escape routes, strike angles, the time it would take to silence them before others noticed. But even before his fingers brushed the hilt of his blade, he caught the flicker in their eyes.

These weren’t weary guards dulled by monotony. These were predators.

The wardens turned in perfect unison, slow and deliberate, as though they had sensed Zero’s intention the moment his muscles tensed. Their lips curved—not into surprise, nor alarm, but into the faintest suggestion of smirks. There was no urgency in their movements, no instinct to raise an alarm. Instead, they studied the intruders with an almost eager hunger, like hunters who had stumbled upon prey in a forest grown too quiet.

"At last," one murmured, his voice low and rich, carrying smoothly through the stone corridor. His wings shifted slightly, claws scraping faintly against the floor as he flexed his talons. "A break in the silence."

The other chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest as his horns caught the firelight. His wings twitched, unfolding just slightly, as though tasting the air. "Do you feel that? Intruders. And not weak ones, either." His crimson gaze narrowed with interest as it swept over Zero, then lingered a moment on Lilith. "Perhaps the rebels finally grew bold enough to test their luck. Boldness makes for better meat."

Lilith stiffened, pulse racing. Her mind flashed to the worst—had they recognized her? But their words gave her an unexpected shield. They did not see her as the princess of this palace. Her disguise still held, masking her features enough for them to misjudge her identity. To them, she and Zero were intruders from the rebel factions that lingered in whispers, come perhaps to deliver false hope to the king chained beyond these doors.

The irony cut deep. They believed she was already dead. That her very life, the warmth of her existence, had been denied and twisted into rumor. She was a ghost walking before them, unseen for who she truly was. But there was no time to drown in the ache of that bitter thought. These wardens wanted blood.

The first tilted his head, his horns casting jagged shadows across the wall. "It matters little who they are. They die here. But..." his mouth spread into a grin sharp as a blade, "let’s make it interesting. It has been too long since our blades tasted a worthy resistance."

He and his partner stepped away from the iron door, leaving it unguarded but still bound in the glow of the crimson sigils. Their casualness was not negligence but arrogance—confidence that no intruder, no matter how strong, would ever pass them.

Zero’s eyes flicked once to Lilith. His expression was unreadable, but in that fleeting glance, she understood his thought as clearly as if he had spoken aloud. We end this quickly. No mistakes.

She drew a breath to steady her racing heart, letting the faint threads of mana stir within her veins. Shadows coiled faintly at her feet, brushing along the cracks of the stone floor as if answering her unspoken fear.

The second warden’s grin widened, claws lengthening until they gleamed in the dim light, sharp enough to rend steel. "Come then, intruders. Give us a fight worth remembering."

The air grew heavy, thick with the weight of the challenge. Every step the wardens took forward seemed to shrink the corridor, pressing the walls inward, making each breath come harder. Their wings brushed the stone walls as they flared slightly, the leathery scrape echoing like a whisper of doom.

"Try not to die too quickly," the first added, his voice amused, almost taunting. "I’d hate for this to end before it even begins."

Zero’s hand moved in one smooth, deliberate motion, drawing his blade from the storage ring. The steel whispered free, sharp and final, its reflection catching the firelight in a cold gleam. He lowered the tip just slightly, body shifting into a poised stance, his calm composure hiding the storm that churned beneath.

Beside him, Lilith summoned her will. Mana coursed through her hands, weaving into the faint shimmer of shadow magic that clung to her form like a second skin. Her breath came out steady now, though her chest thudded with the memory of what stood behind that door. Her father. And the chains that bound him.

The space between the four warriors crackled, an invisible collision of wills and killing intent. The torches lining the walls sputtered as if smothered by the density of mana gathering in the corridor.

No words were left to say.

And then, in the span of a heartbeat, they moved.

The wardens surged forward with a speed that belied their size, wings snapping open like banners of war. Zero and Lilith launched to meet them, steel and shadow flaring in the tight corridor. The first clash of steel and claw rang out like a thunderclap, a sound that promised only violence and blood in the depths of the devil king’s palace.