Memory of Heaven:Romance Written By Fate Through Beyond Infinity Time-Chapter 441 The Spell That Cannot Be Recited Twice

Their steps felt increasingly silent. The Gödel labyrinth now resembled an endless corridor, its walls made of crossed-out words. Each sentence was a failed attempt to solidify meaning, while every symbol was a scar from the magic once used, now forgotten by a world blind to the wonders of words.

In that silence, there was a sense of being trapped in time. Every second seemed extended, hinting at the weight of despair buried within their hearts. They walked, yet their steps did not echo; as if sound had been trapped in the labyrinth of unspoken words.

Beelzebub walked ahead, her golden hair flowing slowly like a veil of fire. The light from the metal chains still encircling her wrist reflected off the erased glyph walls.

"We are almost at the first core," she said softly. "The place where meaning chooses to disappear."

Amid the spoken words, there was a sound like the sigh of the wind tearing through the silence. Fitran felt the burden on his shoulders growing heavier, like a student facing the final exam of wisdom he had neglected. Uncertainty gripped him, adding to the anxiety that disturbed his thoughts, like a bomber trapped on the exam stage where answers felt so distant and unreachable.

Fitran looked down at the ground beneath him. There was something strange: he could no longer see his own shadow. Not because of the light... But because he himself was beginning to lack proof of existence.

They arrived in a round room, not too large, yet it felt as if the entire universe had gathered within it.

In the center of the room floated a damaged scroll—fragments of the Gödelian Codex. Its pages were not fully open. Only one line of glyphs glowed faintly in the middle. At a glance, it appeared to be an incomplete sequence:

⌘ Σ Ʃ 𝜙 ¬𝒟(x)

The intricate depiction of the glyph reminded Fitran of a series of dreams that had haunted him; dreams where every understood meaning felt elusive and unreachable. He felt a deep sadness, as if the world around him was a fragment of an illusion more than just this illusion.

Beelzebub raised an eyebrow.

"There it is," she said quietly. "The Erasing Glyph. The only spell in this world that refuses to be repeated."

Fitran approached, touching the air around the glyph. He felt his skin beginning to fade. But not because the glyph was attacking. Rather, because the glyph... refused to be recognized by anyone. In the chilling silence of the night, every heartbeat seemed to echo, illustrating the deepening doubt. His heart trembled between curiosity and fear, highlighting how vulnerable they were when faced with something greater than the power of this glyph.

Beelzebub explained, her voice trembling not from fear, but from respect. The expression on her face radiated unspoken tension, indicating that this knowledge was a burden to bear.

"If you read this spell correctly, it will work. But afterward... the world will erase all evidence that you ever read it." "Even I... will not know that you used it." "And you yourself... will forget that you ever made that choice."

Fitran stared at the glyph, then at Beelzebub. It was as if the world around him suddenly dimmed, focusing solely on the two entities in this unimaginable conversation.

"So anyone who reads this spell will... lose memory of its use?" "But the effects will still occur?"

A dark feeling crept into his mind, like thick fog obscuring the light of hope. He felt as if he were on the edge of a chasm, where every step led him into endless darkness, as if the decree of fate had been written in invisible ink.

"Yes. The world changes... but no one can prove why."

Fitran thought. In his mind, Rinoa's call echoed, like the lyrics of a song trapped between the currents of time. As his hope awakened, he felt the depth of the buried feelings, as if every passing second added weight to his shoulders, creating a question: Could such a spell change a predetermined fate? Could it be used to penetrate the Void, where Rinoa was sealed? In the chaos of his thoughts, he felt the chime of his heart coinciding with an unbearable longing. Or... could it be used to erase the evidence that he loved Rinoa, so that love could no longer be opposed by the system of the world that constrained happiness? The urge to take that step flowed through his veins, as if two paths lay before him, one filled with doubt and the other promising freedom from pain.

"Beelzebub," he whispered, "what will happen... if I read it to open the way to where Rinoa is held?" In his voice, tension, hope, and fear intertwined in his question.

"That path may open," she replied. "But afterward... you will not know you ever opened the way. You will just stand there, confused... with a love that no longer has a source." Her words were like thick fog enveloping Fitran's soul, adding weight to the dreams in his heart and reminding him that the impact of this decision was greater than just an emotional choice.

"And if I read it to... prove that my love is real?" He felt the tension vibrating in the air, as if the universe wanted to answer his question, while simultaneously confusing everything.

Beelzebub lowered her gaze, as if contemplating the consequences of the greatest decision Fitran was facing.

"Then your love may become real for the world... but no longer for you." As if striking the wall of hope, that answer etched itself into Fitran's soul, leaving a resonating emptiness.

Fitran stood before the glyph. Each word spoken seemed to enter his body, permeating his thoughts and veins. In his heart, two voices battled:

One said: "Use it. If you truly love Rinoa, you don't need proof. But the world needs a way to save her." In those words, he felt the intertwining of longing and responsibility.

The other said: "If you forget her, does your love still exist? If you cannot remember the pain, does sacrifice still hold meaning?" Real and sharp, this voice reminded him of the sacredness of every moment he had shared with Rinoa.

And the glyph... seemed to pulse, waiting for a decision. In the peace and chaos, Fitran felt his heartbeat synchronize with the dance of the glyph's light, as the world awaited to be recreated. As silence enveloped his feelings, he knew that every choice had an unavoidable impact and that the world he knew would change the moment those words were spoken.

Beelzebub looked at him one last time, her eyes conveying the same fear and hope. There were no more words, only an unspoken agreement hanging between them.

"I will not remember this, will I?"

Fitran nodded slowly, feeling the weight in his chest, as if he had just given a piece of his soul to the wind. He knew that whatever happened next, this journey would always be a part of him, unerasable even if memory might fade.

"You won't remember either," she replied. "But if we meet again... and I suddenly cry... perhaps this is the reason."

He took a breath. Raised his hand. Gazed at the glyph... and read:

⌘ Σ Ʃ 𝜙 ¬𝒟(x)

( ╳ ) The World is Disconnected

.

.

.

No sound. No light. No record of what just happened.

Fitran stood in an empty room. Beelzebub stood on the other side, looking slightly unsteady.

"What... just happened?"

"I don't know," Fitran said.

He touched his chest. There was a lingering warmth. Like a burn... but no wound. A feeling seemed to gather in his soul, expressing deep disappointment and loss, crossing between memory and hope.

Beelzebub looked around, her eyes finding confused shadows, as if the world itself was struggling to comprehend what could not be understood.

"Why are we here?" "We should still be in the fifth layer..."

In a fleeting, hazy memory, Fitran felt as if they had traversed an unimaginable wilderness, time and space merging in a dark dance; yet now, before them opened a new possibility they had never imagined before. A spiral door opened—made of Void that moved like water and shadow, as if holding secrets deeper than all they had experienced.

An unknown voice echoed from behind the door:

"Love that cannot be proven... finally opens its own way."

The spell had been used, resonating like a poem stranded between worlds. It felt as if their souls were bound to every word, every note. No one knew how. No one knew by whom. But the world had changed.

And the path to Rinoa... had opened, shining like a hope that never fades, tempting them to step forward even as uncertainty cloaked their steps.