Memory of Heaven:Romance Written By Fate Through Beyond Infinity Time-Chapter 437 When Names Are No Longer Called

Fitran's steps cut through the void filled with uncertainty and mystery.

Alongside her, Beelzebub floated like a shadow that required no ground to stand on. Her elegant blue gown remained untouched by mud, and the thin metal chains still shimmered in the darkness that even light hesitated to approach.

Before them lay a flat abyss—its surface smooth like obsidian glass, stretching as far as the eye could see. Meanwhile, the complex labyrinth whispered promises and threats in an undefined manner, writhing in silence as if responding to their deep uncertainty.

"We have entered the Gödel Labyrinth."

Beelzebub's voice echoed as if swallowed by the empty space, disappearing without a trace, creating an illusion of uncertainty that enveloped them further. Fitran did not respond. She sensed the difference.

Time no longer followed a rhythm.

Each heartbeat felt... lost.

Awareness spun in a chaotic tide, trapped between reality and shadow, creating an inevitable wave of confusion, like relentless waves crashing against the shore.

Inside the labyrinth, unspoken names trembled in the silence, as if reminding Fitran of the identity that seeped into the darkness. Was that name still hers, or merely a fragment of a lost self? She wondered, submerged in a sea of uncertainty.

As Fitran stepped forward, he heard a faint sound—like wind that had forgotten its direction. The atmosphere around him began to feel unstable, the walls of the labyrinth trembled as if they possessed consciousness, grappling with undefined shapes and shadows.

"...tan... Fate..."

He turned to look back. There was no one. Beelzebub was merely gazing at the shapeless sky, as if the sky itself was retreating, expelling itself from the reality that lay before them.

"Your name is starting to disappear," Beelzebub said flatly, like someone reading a verdict. Her words hung in the air, piercing the silence and eroding Fitran's presence.

"What do you mean?"

"The Gödel labyrinth doesn't erase your body. It erases your signifier," she replied, lifting her hand into the air. "In this system, 'name' is the weakest form of existence. Because a name can be invoked... and something that can be invoked can be controlled. Here, that logic is rejected." The space around him shrank again, as if the labyrinth was trying to encircle him, making him feel even more isolated within the boundless complexity. freeweɓnøvel.com

Fitran touched his chest. He still felt whole. But when he attempted to utter his own name...

"Fi... Fitr—"

...the voice stuttered, unable to fully escape. It was as if the world denied her the right to speak. The surrounding space trembled, the walls of the labyrinth pulsing, absorbing her anxiety and despair. Each wall sparkled with a faint light attempting to pierce the darkness, creating undefined shadows, as if the labyrinth itself vibrated with awareness.

"Without a name, you become a function without parameters, like an entity that has lost its form. A will without a node," Beelzebub continued. "But you can still choose... who you will call, and that is your power amidst all this chaos."

Fitran paused. He closed his eyes.

In the void of his thoughts, he summoned that name. In his mind, the name Rinoa resonated, signaling a deep bond between his existence and the entity trapped within this labyrinth.

"Rinoa..."

Not as a mantra.

Not as a plea.

But as the last spark of her identity.

The name Rinoa... is the only name that does not come from any system.

Not from a kingdom, not from a pact, not from the void.

That name originates from her own heart, awakening the dormant power within. In the silence thick with hope and uncertainty, the labyrinth began to tremble, reshaping itself around her, creating a magical atmosphere. The walls slowly released a whispering sound, as if echoing her name, forming a melody that could only be understood by the souls brave enough to delve into the void.

And at that moment, the world around her shuddered.

Suddenly, the obsidian surface in front of them cracked. A fissure appeared, creating a curving corridor that geometrically led nowhere. Within the bends of this labyrinth, the walls seemed to vibrate, releasing whispers from the departed souls, dancing between the known and the unimaginable.

Inside, Fitran saw... himself.

Yet different.

In this version of Fitran, there are no eyes.

No voice.

Yet from her body flow bright white letters: names, nicknames, titles, and labels from the past, revealing the talents of a presence that once existed. This labyrinth seems to have a memory, holding layers of lost existence, creating a deep sense of nostalgia.

Voidwright

Paladin of Fate

Destroyer of the Old Pact

Lover of Elyndra

The letters float... then one by one vanish.

Behind the light of the disappearing letters, the shadows of the labyrinth tremble, seemingly grasping a profound sense of loss and expressing longing. In every breath of wind, there are whispers inviting Fitran to explore the meaning behind her own name, delving into the depths of her wounded soul.

Beelzebub whispered softly:

"It is You Who is Dependent on the Name."

"And what happened to her?"

"She... vanished. Because all that defined her was a call from the outside. Not from within herself."

The room transformed. The letters on the walls crumbled, morphing into an unreadable river of symbols. Amidst the chaotic, faceless sounds, shimmering labyrinthine shadows emerged, their walls trembling as if responding to waves of uncertainty. Every edge beckoned, seemingly offering an abandoned secret.

Fitran began to hear familiar voices:

"You are nothing without Sheena."

"Rinoa doesn't love you."

"Without a name, how do you know you're still alive?"

Even his own voice turned against him, filled with thunder, as if sound and silence were waging war:

"I am Fitran Fate."

"Is that so?" the echo replied. "Prove it."

He wanted to scream.

But what could he say when every word had been taken? With each passing second, this labyrinth seemed to sort through his identity, creating ambiguity at the boundaries of the goals he once pursued.

Beelzebub stepped forward. Her golden hair whipped like embers in a storm, her sharp green eyes shone, resembling twin shards of light and shadow. One step occupied space, one breath filled the void.

"If you cannot name yourself, I will give you one."

Fitran gazed at her.

For the first time since they had reunited... he felt fear. The darkness of the labyrinth enveloped him, each wall reminding him of the fragmented identity he had lost.

"You can call yourself: The Unknown One."

"Or: The Keeper of Directionless Love."

"Or simply: He Who Loves Rinoa."

Fitran fell silent.

The last name pierced him, like a knife finding a crack between confusion and hope.

"Rinoa... more than anything."

"Then let that be it," replied Beelzebub. "Throw away all other names. Even cast away yourself. And hold onto just one meaning: love that cannot be summoned."

At that moment, the room exploded into a burst of black and white light.

Unreadable symbols split apart.

The void around began to reshape itself.

The presence of that light resembled an endless dance, connecting the fragments of reality that were once separated. Each shimmer seemingly illustrated desires and fears, depicting the emptiness gathered in the labyrinth, a mirror of lost souls. Fading shadows clung to the labyrinth walls, revealing faint images of what once was—names that had fallen into oblivion.

And in the midst of it all, only one voice remained—not from the mouth, not from the mind, but from the deepest resolve in Fitran's heart.

"I am the one who loves Rinoa, even if I cannot prove it."

As those words flowed forth, the walls of the labyrinth vibrated gently, as if absorbing every emotional note from the unspoken expression of love. This labyrinth, with its sharp corners and winding corridors, stood as a silent witness to both suffering and hope, where each name uttered became a weight burdening the shattered soul. In its erasure, a name was not merely a label, but rather a shackle that restrained the spirit from exploring its true self.

In Gödel's labyrinth, a name serves as both a shackle and an eraser.

Yet, the love that cannot be summoned, though perceived as weak, becomes the unexpected path and source of strength in the search for true identity.