Memory of Heaven:Romance Written By Fate Through Beyond Infinity Time-Chapter 449 Fitran vs Fitran

As soon as they stepped into the next room, the world around them seemed to compress, creating a suffocating sensation. There were no boundaries. No walls. Yet the pressure enveloping them felt heavy, like the sky slowly descending, hanging above their heads.

Beelzebub stopped, her lips pressed together in a silence that felt oppressive. She didn't say anything, but her right hand tightened, forming a contour of hidden strength. Her golden hair appeared more tranquil, although faint embers flickered at the tips, reflecting the simmering anger within.

"We're here," she said tersely, signaling that there was no turning back. "The room of final will. A place where the Labyrinth stops shaping the outside world... and starts to shape you." fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

In the dimly lit room, a figure emerged. Not merely a silhouette, not just a shadow. But a human.

The final realm of will was shrouded in a thick, mysterious aura, with a surface that appeared undulating, resembling an ocean seemingly made of shadows. The walls were invisible, as if all boundaries within this room had vanished, forming a new dimension that enveloped them in a chilling silence. Its texture was as smooth as velvet yet frightening, with a faint shimmer that created an illusion of movement all around, making every second feel intensely tense. A soft, rumbling sound of unknown origin added to the emptiness, as if revealing the turmoil of the inevitable confrontation.

His hair was identical, and his face showed no difference. The black cloaks they wore were of the same length, yet adorned with intricate glyphs that glowed faintly, as if harboring hidden power. Their gazes were alike; cold and sharp, not overflowing with anger but filled with a determination that sent shivers down the spine.

Fitran.

He was another version of himself.

"So... I will fight my shadow again?" Fitran asked quietly, his voice trembling amidst the oppressive silence.

"Not a shadow," Beelzebub replied gracefully as she took a step back. "You will confront the will that seeks to prove your love by mastering all existing systems."

"My former self?" Fitran concluded, still hesitant about the answer given.

"No." Beelzebub gazed at him intently, her eyes seemingly penetrating into his soul.

"The person you will become... if you do not stop trying to save everything with logic."

She spoke with the same voice, yet it felt heavy and deep, as if echoing from the depths of a mysterious and grand structure.

The realm of final will transformed into an infinite labyrinth made of abstract materials, with walls that appeared to be crafted from shimmering dark shadows. A dim light wove through, creating a chilling vibrating effect. A faint rumble resonated throughout the space, like whispers of spirits hidden in the darkness. The texture of the walls felt rough and cold, reminiscent of stone enveloped in mist, creating a tense atmosphere that enveloped the sincerity of his soul. Every step felt nearly impossible, defying the laws of physics in such a way that compelled Fitran to keep his focus on the figure standing before him.

"I am you. Without regrets. Without loss."

"I am the perfected version of all systems. The one who proves love by creating a world where Rinoa is never lost."

"You love her through loss. I love her with certainty."

Fitran took a deep breath, feeling the heavy, cold air envelop his soul.

"But she is not merely an object to be rescued from the system."

"She is a human being, with a heart and choices. Even the choice to be lost."

Voidwright Total raised her hand with a gentle yet arrogant gesture.

From the tips of her fingers, perfect and shimmering glyphs began to emerge—forming a flawless spell formation, like an invisible net ready to ensnare anything that dares to transgress.

Σ(A) = ∃x∀y: proof(x) → logic(y)

Magic struck with lethal speed. However, Fitran evaded it, employing only skilled steps and steady breaths, like a dancer moving through the storm.

He did not retaliate. He simply stood there, facing everything with a tranquility that enveloped his heart.

In the final realm of will, the atmosphere felt eerie and mysterious. The walls, made from a dark material glimmering like obsidian, reflected shadowy figures that seemed to move as if they had a life of their own; as if they were ghosts of the past trapped in darkness. The air was dense, filled with fine particles of light vibrating, as if waiting to be filled by the important decisions to come. The floor, crafted from rough crystal, sparkled with enchanting soft colors, yet when stepped upon, it responded with jolts that shook the heart, creating a resonance within Fitran. All the elements in this room appeared to collaborate against the internal foe faced by Fitran and his alter ego, creating a stifling tension that pushed them to the brink of unbearable emotions.

Voidwright Total launched another attack. This time, the glyph "Cage of Certainty"—

A circle of incantation appeared beneath Fitran's feet. Shimmering chains of light attempted to bind him with piercing arguments:

"If you truly love her, then prove it: when, where, and how."

But Fitran responded with a heavy breath:

"I can't."

And at that moment... the glyph shattered.

Because he didn't fight back with logic; he simply accepted.

Beelzebub stood still, her hands trembling, struggling against the overwhelming tide of emotion.

"Say something... Fitran..."

But she knew: this wasn't the right time to intervene, even though her heart whispered for her to speak.

Deep inside her heart, long silenced by the nine circles of hell,

she understood that she didn't want to see Fitran prove anything.

She only wanted... to see him stay alive. To remain Fitran, with the light shining in his eyes and a warm smile adorning his face.

Voidwright Total stared at her—confused, the expression on her face reflecting the uncertainty and doubt enveloping their souls.

"How can you endure... without a definition?"

"Without a system?"

"Without the certainty that he loves you back?"

Fitran stepped closer. His gaze was not judgmental but mirrored a profound understanding, a sincerity that liberated.

"Because I choose not to be a system."

"Because I do not want a world where love exists only if it can be quantified."

"Then... who are you?"

In the final chamber of will, the walls appeared to be made of vibrating shadows, as if they absorbed light and stored it in an impenetrable darkness. The rough, undulating texture enveloped the floor, reminiscent of a mystical layer recalling the surface of restless waves, as if every ripple seeped into uncertainty. The scent of metal and emptiness filled the air, creating a sensation that this place was not merely a dimension but a living, suffocating, and restless world. The sound of rustling like the whispers of darkness enveloped every corner, adding to the chilling and melancholic atmosphere. Light faded in the corners of the room, casting dancing shadows that seemed to reflect the inner conflict between two souls facing each other, trapped in a labyrinth of complicated feelings. This room became a silent witness to the struggle of essence and humanity ensnared in the turmoil of the heart.

"I..." Fitran whispered, his voice nearly drowned in the silence enveloping the room, "am someone who continues to love... even though the world refuses to make it a reality."

The Voidwright Total began to crack, its subtle movements suggesting the collapse of hope.

Not because it was defeated.

But because it could not answer that question.

It collapsed slowly, its form fading like a shadow into the dark.

The light within dimmed, one by one, the symbols on its robe slipped away like the ruins of uncontainable hope.

And before it vanished completely, its gentle voice whispered, as if carried to every corner of the room:

"In that case... never seek me again. Because I will continue to exist... in every desire you have to make love perfect."

The space was empty, filled only with a suffocating silence.

Beelzebub approached, her steps weighted by the burden of emotion.

Her eyes fixed on Fitran with a gaze that held both hope and defeat.

"You... have won," she said, her voice heavy with despair.

"No," Fitran replied firmly, his tone filled with determination.

"I only refuse to be him."

Fitran did not choose power.

He did not choose victory—he preferred honesty within himself.

He merely rejected becoming a version of himself...

that was too perfect to love truly, trapped in the complexity of unspoken emotions.