Memory of Heaven:Romance Written By Fate Through Beyond Infinity Time-Chapter 442 Codex Gates that Deny Answers

The spiral gate stood quietly in the midst of emptiness, like a vortex made of liquid shadows. It did not shine, did not vibrate—only spun slowly as if time itself was weighing whether to grant permission or not.

Fitran stared at the door for a long time.

He did not know how they had ended up here, did not know what had happened before. Yet, within his chest, something was bubbling; he felt a heartbeat that he had never felt before—like every pulse was a call from something greater, more mysterious than just this gate.

It was a feeling of fear and hope intertwined as one. In the chaos of his mind, shadows of the past emerged—forgotten familiar faces, promises never kept. Fitran took a deep breath, trying to extinguish the embers of helplessness gnawing at his heart.

An unreasonable urge.

A will that does not stem from logic.

Beelzebub stood beside him, her tangled golden hair swaying gently. Her green eyes looked at the spiral with heavy suspicion. In the silence that enveloped them, anxiety gripped Beelzebub. All this time, she had been the one to orchestrate fate, navigating the dark labyrinth with confidence. Yet in front of this gate, doubt crept into her mind, reminding her that even the strongest beings could get lost.

"This gate is not made from anywhere. There are no glyphs marking it. There are no roots from the pactum."

"It is a 'no.' A door not for entry... but for losing form."

Implied on Beelzebub's face was the awareness of how fragile life was. Now, attachment to structure and rules felt ridiculous. In this moment, she realized that life was a journey that could not be fully understood and could only be lived. In her heart, there was a desire to protect Fitran from the darkness they might face, like a guardian always ready. Her heart whispered whether she would be able to be the protector her friend needed in this encounter with uncertainty.

"Maybe that's why we have to go through it," Fitran replied.

"Because what we seek is not an answer—but something that remains even when answers fail."

A sense of courage touched Fitran. He knew, even though this gate was terrifying, they had to move forward. Every step was part of the quest, a step toward freedom from the shackles of uncertainty. And perhaps, only through darkness could they find a new light, a light that was entirely different from what they had ever envisioned. His heart strengthened what once seemed trivial: Beelzebub's presence, to explore this world with her.

They stepped inside.

Once past the threshold of the spiral, reality ceased to provide structure.

Their steps were unheard.

Their bodies did not reflect light.

Even their thoughts—for a few seconds—could not form language.

Fitran tried to read glyphs from his memory...

None appeared.

His hands tried to write the Voidwright mantra...

But the symbols he formed crumbled as soon as they took shape, as if this world rejected being interpreted, as if trapped within the confines of understanding that their existence could not accept.

For a moment, shadows of the past approached Fitran. He remembered when he studied glyphs in the dim candlelight, where his unquenchable curiosity ignited his spirit to explore. Yet today—in the midst of this emptiness—he felt like an empty glass, where his dreams overflowed and rendered him powerless, trapped in suffocating uncertainty.

Wishing Lucky, his friend, were here, whispering comfort, "You can do it, Fitran! Keep going!" But now, that friend was merely a forgotten note in Memory. Only silence welcomed him. frёeweɓηovel.coɱ

"This..." Beelzebub whispered, "is a Codex that denies itself."

With a loud noise in his ears, Fitran felt another darkness; there was a faint hope buried among Beelzebub's words. The shadow that everything might not be an end, but a gateway to new understanding.

In the midst of that emptiness, they saw a great book floating—the intact Gödelian Codex. But its pages... were blank.

Beelzebub, though appearing calm, wore a bitter smile. She realized that every symbol was a clue, like a trace left by those who could not stop the emptiness within. In a world where meaning no longer existed, could they find significance in that absence?

Not because it had not been written. But because every time their eyes tried to read, the letters vanished.

Every symbol refused to be interpreted, like a voice that faded before it could be heard.

Beelzebub looked at Fitran, feeling the unspoken burden. "If we cannot understand, perhaps we must feel," she said. "Perhaps reaching this silence does not mean defeat, but a journey toward a deeper beauty."

"This is a place where questions are never answered," Beelzebub said.

"Because those questions are born from a system. And the system has consumed itself."

His mind spun, Fitran began to feel a strange peace, as if all the complexities of his life seeped into warmth. He reflected, "What is lost may not be an answer, but an acknowledgment of all the doubts and hopes we carry."

Suddenly, from the book, an entity emerged.

Not a creature. Not a spirit. But a concept formed from incompleteness.

The figure resembled Fitran—only without a face.

It had no hands. No voice.

Yet from its chest, a voice emerged... directly into his mind:

"Who are you, if all who ever called your name have been forgotten?"

"What is your will, if there is no system to channel it?"

"What is the meaning of your love, if you cannot show it, prove it, or even remember its origin?"

In that emptiness, Fitran felt how broken his own soul was. Like a shadow sunk in sorrow, he tried to dig up memories that once existed—but everything was like sand flowing through his hands. He remembered joyful moments with Rinoa, when hope still filled the cavity of his chest, just before this world shattered and took him far from happiness.

Fitran stood frozen.

He wanted to fight. But there were no weapons.

He wanted to write glyphs, but the world rejected it.

He wanted to speak, but words held no meaning here.

The shadows of unexpected burdens confused his mind. Was all this just an illusion? Or did every doubt seep into a part of his identity? In the boundless darkness, the formless entity seemed to challenge him to seek answers—to define himself amid the chilling uncertainty.

In that emptiness, Fitran realized:

The only thing that had not vanished from him... was feeling.

He could not prove he loved Rinoa.

He could not show where that love came from.

He did not even know why his own name did not return.

In that emptiness, Fitran realized:

The only thing that had not vanished from him... was feeling.

He remembered the colorful days when the sunset adorned the sky and every gust of wind carried whispers of love between them. That sweet memory danced in his mind, as if bringing him back into Rinoa's embrace, where uncertainty did not exist. But now, all he had was a shadow—a shadow of love trapped in the labyrinth of time.

He could not prove he loved Rinoa.

He could not show where that love came from.

He did not even know why his own name did not return.

Beelzebub, observing the anguish on Fitran's face, felt the tension in her soul bound to the past. A dark dust enveloped her heart, nurturing a rare sense of empathy. She remembered the love she once had—not love in a romantic sense, but a love that bound her to the beings she created and who were now lost in the web of emptiness. In that pain, Beelzebub realized that even though she was the ruler of darkness, there was a light that always sought to be found within her.

But she knew one thing:

"I want her to be free."

And in that will, this world—which rejected all systems—trembled.

In that tremor, Fitran felt an unexpected strength arise within him. Not the strength to fight, but the strength to give, to let go. He understood that loving was not just possessing, but also granting freedom to the beloved—even if it meant letting go. Every heartbeat became a silent witness to that struggle, igniting a spirit to break the boundaries that bound him.

Beelzebub closed her eyes.

Tears flowed from the corners of her eyes—not water, but gray light. Light from the will that had once been buried in her nine bellies.

In the silence, Beelzebub heard Fitran's inner scream. She felt how profound the longing expressed by that simple sentence, "I want her to be free"—as if it were a mantra calling back all possibilities that had ever existed and reviving all memories. For the first time, despair and hope met at one point, and she felt a little more alive with that feeling.

"This is love that cannot be proven..." she whispered.

"But because it cannot be proven, it cannot be defeated."

And with that word, the spiral around them opened.

The Gödelian Codex burned slowly.

Not because it was destroyed... but because it had been read by will, not by eyes.

Before them lay a path:

A bridge from emptiness to the space between dimensions.

A place where time refused to move.

A place where Rinoa was sealed.

A place that could not be approached by anyone carrying logic, pactum, or proof.

But Fitran... carried none of that.

He only carried one sentence, unwritten, unremembered, but still there:

"I want her to be free."

The Gödelian Codex rejected answers.

But within the unprovable will,

a path opened that could not be closed.

As Fitran's steps made a decision, Beelzebub's shadow appeared faintly in the corner of darkness, laughing cynically. "Free, you say? But what does 'free' mean for a soul trapped in sin and despair?" Her loud and sharp voice echoed, creating waves of doubt in Fitran's heart. His face furrowed, trying to dispel that whisper, but the more he wove hope, the louder that laughter resonated.

And Fitran stepped into the final space:

where all rejected love... waits to be remembered.

In that space, soft light danced over the shadows of lost love. Every step Fitran took created sounds that awakened memories, as if the walls were silent witnesses to a story filled with joy and sorrow. "A freedom that should belong to her, and also to Rinoa," he thought, feeling the tension of the decision that had to be made. "But, rather than being loved, is it better to live in the shadows of lost love?"

As he stepped further, Beelzebub's figure suddenly appeared before him, her eyes shining with arrogance. "Rejected love is a fine thread that connects us to suffering. Why do you choose to return, Fitran? Do you truly wish to be trapped in this endless illusion?" Her voice echoed between the walls, as if asking not only Fitran but also all souls yearning for love within an infinite radius.