Parallel Memory

Chapter 708 708: The Successor Appears

The moment Mia and Amelia rejoined the remnants of the elite vanguards, the battlefield told a story neither of them had expected. The arena—the only returning pathway, the only portal, the only hope of escaping the Devil Domain—was nothing but a pulverized crater.

The fortifications humans had built days earlier were buried under blackened rubble. Stone pillars were shattered into dust. The portal frame, once glowing with pale-blue mana, was now a warped pile of molten metal and cracked obsidian. The stench of corrupted dark energy hung in the air like rotting smoke.

All around the crater, soldiers—what was left of them—sat on broken steps or leaned against collapsed walls, defeated in spirit more than body. The healers had depleted their mana. The mercenaries had lost their bravado. Even the SS-ranked captains stood in grim silence, their weapons sheathed because there was simply nothing left to strike.

Hopelessness was thick as fog.

Mia's face sank.

Amelia covered her mouth, trembling.

Both of them instinctively touched the pocket dimension artifact hanging from Amelia's neck—where Zero lay hidden, unconscious and unmoving.

We can't let them see him like this, Mia thought.

Not yet. Not when we don't even know if he'll wake up.

Nock and Seraphine approached, weary but alive. Hiro and his team soon appeared behind them, bruised and scraped but somehow still pushing through. The moment they saw Mia and Amelia, relief washed across their faces.

"You made it out…" Seraphine whispered.

"And the devil king?" Hiro asked. "Was he really defeated?"

Mia forced a nod, voice steady though her heart felt hollow.

"The devil king—Aamon—is dead."

A cheer erupted.

Weak.

Strained.

But desperate.

The entire human force, broken as they were, clung to that one fragile strand of hope.

"We… we can win," someone choked out.

"We're going home."

"The portal—someone repair it—we can go back!"

But when Kaileon stepped forward, his voice crushed those hopes:

"The portal cannot be repaired. Only the devil side can rebuild the dimensional anchor. And with the arena destroyed…"

His sentence trailed off.

No one needed the rest.

Humans were trapped in the Devil Domain.

A heavy silence suffocated the air—until a ripple of mana spread across the crater, soft yet undeniable.

Everyone turned.

From the shadows of the ruined palace walkway…

From the drifting ash…

From the broken remnants of Aamon's rule…

She stepped out.

A girl with pale skin, long obsidian hair, and crimson eyes that shimmered like dusk over a battlefield. Her bearing was regal, calm, almost serene. She looked young—barely Zero's age—but the mana around her was ancient, thick, and commanding.

Lilith.

Some soldiers raised weapons.

Others stepped back in fear.

Until she lifted her hand.

A gentle pressure washed over the battlefield—not killing, not choking, but steadying. A devil's mana… yet not hostile. Not hungry. Not corrupt.

"Humans," she said softly. Her voice carried over broken stone and wounded warriors like a solemn promise. "Lay down your fear. I am Lilith, daughter of the former Devil King—Zeroth Arcturion. The rightful heir to the throne of the Devil Kingdom."

A murmur spread, confused, fearful, disbelieving.

Lilith stepped closer, lifting her chin.

"My father sought peace. His dream was coexistence—devils, humans, elves, dwarves, beastkin… all sharing a world without chains."

The soldiers exchanged startled looks.

Mia and Amelia went stiff.

They had heard this already… from her own lips while carrying Zero.

But hearing it said here—before thousands—was different.

Lilith continued, voice unwavering:

"Aamon overthrew my father. Those who believed in peace were labeled traitors. Rebels. Many were executed. Others hid… waiting for hope."

She glanced toward the palace ruins.

"The battle between Aamon and Zero Elea marked the end of Aamon's tyranny. My father's supporters are emerging once more. The rebel faction is ready to restore the true rule."

Kaileon stepped forward carefully.

"…Why appear now?"

Lilith inhaled softly, her crimson eyes sharpening.

"Because you are stranded."

"Because Aamon destroyed your only gate home."

"Because humans will die under our sky if left alone for even a few days."

She raised her hand.

A pulse of dark mana surged outward—summoning dozens of devils from the shadows. Yet these devils knelt before her.

Horned warriors with armored bodies. Mages with tail-like wisps of mist. Winged scouts with tattoo-like runes on their necks.

All knelt.

"For the true successor!" they shouted.

"For Lilith!"

Gasps spread through the human ranks.

Lilith turned to them, finalizing her declaration:

"I will rebuild the portal anchor. In three days, I will open a gate connecting this domain to your outpost."

"Humans may return home."

A stunned silence followed.

"On one condition," she added.

Weapons tightened again.

Lilith's expression softened—not menacing, but resolute.

"Sign a peace accord with me. Recognize my father's dream. Recognize the Devil Kingdom's new ruler."

Kaileon exchanged a glance with Mia, who nodded slowly.

They understood:

This was their only chance.

Not only escape—but a future without endless war.

And so, there in the broken crater of the arena…

Mia Frostine and Kaileon stood as representatives of humanity.

Lilith stood as successor to the devils.

In the ruins of a kingdom, on land still soaked with fallen warriors, they signed a binding pact—the first treaty between humans and devils in recorded history.

The devil soldiers cheered.

Human soldiers cried.

Some trembled, uncertain whether this was salvation or madness.

But one truth was inescapable:

For the first time, the war paused.

Lilith ordered her supporters to lead the humans to the restored inner citadel—once Aamon's iron fortress, now being reclaimed by the "rebel" faction.

Food was provided. Beds prepared. Healers assigned.

"We treat our guests with respect," Lilith said firmly. "This order is absolute."

And so, while the portal construction began, Mia, Amelia—and Lilith herself—turned their attention to someone far more important:

Zero.

His unconscious body was laid upon a bed carved from obsidian and healing stone. The pocket dimension gently released him, though his mana surged and cracked like unstable darkness.

He looked peaceful… yet terrifying.

Amelia tried healing first—but she was still shattered from the palace battle, her mana thin and flickering.

Lilith placed both palms on Zero's chest, dark energy merging with Amelia's light.

Mia pressed her hands over his forehead and heart, pouring her ice mana to stabilize the burn of shadow within him.

Three elements—light, dark, ice—wove around his body like karmic threads.

Slowly…

Zero's wounds knitted.

His breathing steadied.

His mana calmed—no longer violent enough to tear the walls apart.

Yet he did not wake.

Hours passed.

A day.

Two.

Almost three.

His face remained serene, but his consciousness was far away—lost in some depth none of them could reach.

Mia sat at his bedside, fingers tracing the blanket edge.

Amelia prayed quietly.

Lilith watched over him like a silent guardian.

"Why isn't he waking up?" Mia whispered.

Lilith lowered her eyes.

"Because Zero fought destiny itself," she replied softly. "And even when you win against destiny… the price is never small."

Zero's chest rose and fell.

Still.

Unmoving.

A sleeping warrior.

A broken miracle.

And none of them could guess when—or how—he would open his eyes again.