Parallel Memory-Chapter 531: Recovery time

I rested for what felt like weeks—long, dragging days spent beneath the jagged ceiling of that forgotten cave. Time passed slowly, every tick of the clock marked by the dull ache in my bones and the occasional drip of water echoing through the cavern. But even in that stillness, I never truly stopped. My body was healing, yes, but my mind was already preparing for what came next.

Revenge.

I hadn’t forgotten the harpies—the screeching storm of feathers and claws that had nearly torn me apart. And now that I knew their leader was the floor boss, our paths were destined to cross again. It wasn’t just about revenge anymore. If I wanted to ascend to the next floor, I had to face them, whether I was ready or not.

So, as my body mended, I put my time to good use. I sent out the mana-battery drone and mapped out the terrain above. The drone moved in silence, its eyes scanning the skies, circling the dense cliffs that rose like jagged spires into the clouds. Eventually, it picked up traces of movement—sharp-winged silhouettes darting through the sky like lightning. They were fast, organized, and territorial. But most importantly, I spotted one harpy who didn’t move with the others. She perched above the rest, her wings darker than midnight, her eyes like burning coals. That was her—the leader.

Perfect.

While the drone did its job, I used the quiet moments to talk to Lilith—little conversations at first, slow and careful, like brushing dust off an ancient book. Her speech was still broken, but it was getting clearer every day. And what she told me... it shook me.

She had always been a devil.

Not just any devil, either. A princess. The only child of the devil king himself. She’d never seen her mother, had no memory or trace of who she was, but her father... he had once been a dreamer among devils. Unlike the others who saw humans as weak, disposable, or corruptible, her father believed in peace—believed that devils and humans could live side by side. He pushed for unity, for diplomacy.

And they called it weakness.

Lilith’s time in the human domain hadn’t been a random accident or coincidence. It was planned. Her father had sent her there. We were meant to be proof that coexistence was possible. That devils didn’t have to be monsters, and humans didn’t have to be prey.

But of course, not everyone wanted peace.

Xalvar had been her protector, her assigned guard in case her cover was blown. But beneath the surface, he had been a traitor all along—working for the very rebels who sought to tear down her father’s dream. The cave incident wasn’t random. It was a carefully orchestrated move by the rebel faction, meant to shatter any hope of harmony between our worlds.

And it worked.

Lilith was captured that day. I still remembered it vividly—our friends dead, Xalvar’s taunting smile, the blood... gods, so much blood. After that, she was turned into something else entirely. A puppet. A silent doll used as leverage to control the king. With her as their hostage, they forced him to yield. He was too strong to kill, so they imprisoned him instead.

She remembered nothing after that.

I asked her how she regained her will—how she broke free of the chains that bound her mind. Her answer struck me cold.

"When... you fell... at cave’s edge... I saw it," she said. "Blood... your face... same as... that day..."

It triggered something in her. A tidal wave of memories and emotion crashed through her, shattering the seal placed on her mind. She remembered everything—the bodies, the betrayal, the blood—and me, standing helpless, in grief as the last of our friends were slaughtered.

That moment brought her back.

She had questions of her own too. She asked how we met again, how we crossed paths after all these years. So I told her everything—how she’d been weaponized, made to attack the Ace Academy where I trained. How she’d nearly killed me, and how I’d watched her tear herself apart when Xalvar activated her self-destruction protocol.

Her eyes filled with sorrow. "Like... a broken toy..."

She was angry—not just at Xalvar or the rebels—but at herself. Not because of what she did, but because she had been powerless to stop it. She knew her father would never have allowed it. She knew something was wrong from the start. If her father, the strongest devil alive, was truly out of the picture, he would’ve been killed. But no one dared. His strength was beyond comparison. The only way to control him was through her.

Despite everything, she still worried about him. She wanted to return, to find him. But not now. Not yet. She wanted to stay. To fight. To help me.

I told her I was in the tower for one reason—growth. I didn’t intend to die here. If I hit a wall I couldn’t climb, I’d turn back. I wasn’t chasing death. But she didn’t care. She wanted to prove herself, and no matter what I said, she wouldn’t back down.

So I gave in. If she needed proof of my strength, I’d give her a demonstration. The harpies were perfect.

They had nearly killed me once, but this time, things would be different. I wasn’t the same half-dead fool who collapsed at their feet. I had studied them. Watch their patterns. Learned their terrain. And most of all—I had recovered.

I stood at the edge of the cave, the wind cold and biting as it raced through the trees. My blade hung at my side. Lilith stood behind me, quiet but alert, her dark hair catching the sunlight. Her eyes weren’t hollow anymore. They were focused.

"Watch closely," I told her. "You’ll see why I survived."

She nodded silently.

Above us, the sky darkened.

They were coming.

But this time, I was ready.

This time, I wasn’t fighting just for survival.

This time—I was making a statement.

The harpies didn’t waste time. The moment I stepped into their territory, they descended like shadows, screeching vengeance for the kin I’d slaughtered before. Dozens of them, their wings slicing the wind, their talons glinting with malice.

They didn’t chase after me they must have been confident i was going to die, well what do you know? We both made our mistakes and I paid for it and learnt a lesson. Now it was their turn to pay, unlucky for them they wouldn’t be alive to learn their lesson.