Memory of Heaven:Romance Written By Fate Through Beyond Infinity Time-Chapter 453 Broken Axiom Mirror

The next corridor looked ordinary. However, as Fitran stepped inside, the light from behind vanished.

The world transformed into a long space filled with towering mirrors on the right and left, their surfaces shimmering like calm water. The echo of his footsteps resonated softly in this empty space, creating a mysterious atmosphere. Each mirror was filled with a gentle glow, yet held something heavy within. Not a body. Not a creature. But a conviction.

Above each mirror was engraved a single word—in a language that felt ancient, yet could be understood with the heart.

AMOR.

FORTIS.

PIETAS.

ORDO.

SACRIFICIUM.

"Love."

"Strength."

"Loyalty."

"Order."

"Sacrifice."

These were... Fitran's axioms. In this moment, the air felt thick, vibrating with unspoken energy, as if tonight bore the weight of profound history. Every whisper of the wind seemed to play a melody of unspoken sorrow and hope.

But tonight... everything would be tested.

First Mirror: AMOR (Love)

Fitran approached. In the mirror, he saw himself with Rinoa, her beautiful face glowing softly in the moonlight. With Sheena, her silk gown rustled gently as if whispering, reminding him of the beautiful memories buried in his heart. With Beelzebub, a dark and mysterious aura enveloped him, adding depth to the complexity of his love.

Each version of himself showed love in different forms:

Protecting Rinoa, even when he had to remain silent, feeling her heartbeat resonate in the stillness as he watched over her. Marrying Sheena for the stability of the kingdom, even though his heart was shattered; the rustling of flowers around him seemed to sing a song of mourning that touched his soul. Listening to Beelzebub in silence, still holding her hand even without promises, feeling the cold and hard texture of her grip that seemed to be a shield in the chaos of his challenging life.

"I love," whispered Fitran. "In my own way."

Yet the mirror trembled, like the quaking of a heart shattered in longing. And from within, a voice emerged:

"Do you love... or are you just unable to let go?"

A small crack appeared, the sound of cracking adding tension to the air. The mirror shattered, a straight line crossing through the center, the sound of glass shards ringing clearly, echoing in the empty space.

Second Mirror: FORTIS (Strength)

Fitran saw himself engaged in battle, amidst the rumble and screams echoing around him. Fighting Beelzebub, the dark force blazing like a threatening fire, he also faced Osiris, a figure of brilliant light that threatened to blind him. He fought against the very meaning that felt elusive yet suffocating.

He was the Voidwright. The silent ruler on the battlefield of ideas and wills, feeling the fierce wind striking his face. Yet now, his reflection stared back with a vacant gaze, creating discomfort that touched his spine.

"What is your strength for saving?"

"Or to hide the weaknesses you fear others to see?" the voice broke the silence, echoing in Fitran's chest.

The second crack appeared. Larger, each sound breaking through added pressure to his breath. The strength mirror began to shatter at its corners, sparkling glass shards falling, giving the illusion that all that strength was merely a shadow.

Third Mirror: PIETAS (Loyalty)

Here, he saw himself standing beside Gaia, a soft light enveloping his skin. The whisper of the wind added to the atmosphere, as if nature blessed his courage.

Defending the people. Protecting Iris. Accepting the fate of Avalon, which felt like a warm embrace from the entire realm.

Yet on the other side, he also saw himself leaving Avalon. Dark shadows began to envelop his figure, bringing a chilling sensation that seeped in.

Leaving Sheena. Giving up his Daughter. Even leaving himself. The bitter aroma of nostalgia pierced his nose as those memories emerged.

"Is your loyalty... a result of love?"

"Or because you are afraid to say 'no' to a world that demands too much?" The voice echoed like a whisper in a cave, full of uncertainty and doubt.

The third crack exploded like branches of lightning, the loud noise shaking the tranquility. The echo of the thunder vibrated against the walls of the mirror, as if the soul of the mirror itself screamed.

Fourth Mirror: ORDO (Order)

This was the mirror that made him tremble, its surface glittering like shattered glass, emitting a cold light that intimidated.

He saw the system he built:

The Pactum of the world, vibrating in an unseen flow of energy.

The symbol of the Voidwright, beating like a heart that never ceases to give life.

The theory of the Glyph of Equilibrium, gliding smoothly in his mind, like a fine thread drawn from darkness.

The laws protecting souls who could not contain magic felt heavy like an invisible burden pressing against his chest, reflecting his great responsibility towards a world that depended on him.

"All of this... I created to protect the world from destruction." His voice echoed, hollow and empty, like a soundless voice in a long corridor.

Yet his voice was unconvincing, sounding like a whispering wind carrying messages of doubt.

"Or did you create it to ensure you still have a place in the order?"

"What if the world no longer needs you?" That question was like a dark whisper biting, creating a vibrating sound in his heart.

Cracks spread straight from top to bottom. The order mirror... shattered into two, the sound of the break echoing like a shattered emptiness.

Final Mirror: SACRIFICIUM (Sacrifice)

He stepped slowly to this mirror. The mirror, covered in fine dust, trembled gently as if reminding him of the sadness that was held back.

For within it, he saw:

Himself surrendering Sheena to the slow-flowing time, the ticking of the clock sounding like a mournful song haunting him.

Himself failing to save Iris, her face appearing blurred, as if blended with the dark light enveloping the atmosphere around.

Himself ignoring Beelzebub when she first held his hand. The cold touch, like ice, creating an unavoidable tremor in the cavity of his heart.

Himself allowing Rinoa to be locked in the Void; the oppressive atmosphere of that prison was so chilling, as if he could hear the unheard screams from the depths of the dark space.

He never said a word... until it was too late. The voice trapped in his throat, confined in the heavy silence.

"But I sacrificed... so they could live," he said weakly, his voice hoarse and full of emotion, like a dream swept away by the storm of turmoil and deep guilt.

The mirror was silent, its reflection staring at him sharply, holding thousands of untold stories.

Then—from the depths of the mirror emerged a voice, tearing through the silence:

"Or do you just not know how to love, except by leaving?"

And at that moment—the mirror exploded with a loud sound. Glass shards flew, creating a symphony of sound that shook, as if the world collapsed in an instant. Dust swirled in the air, creating a stinging sensation in the nose, creating an atmosphere that was tense and full of dread.

Mirror after mirror shattered, each releasing a rustling sound as if crying out in pain from the broken glass. The first mirror presented a shadowy silhouette, as if urging Fitran to rediscover himself. Those axioms—that formed who he was—collapsed into sharp glass shards, reflecting pale light that dazzled, depicting the irreparable damage to his identity. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

Fitran stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by a series of reflections of himself that he could no longer recognize. The sound of glass shards filled the air, creating a symphony of sorrow that filled the empty space around him.

"Who am I..." he whispered, a voice almost drowned in the noise. "If all these convictions are the result... of the world, not myself?"

From within the empty space, a very soft voice was heard; not Beelzebub. Not Rinoa. Not Sheena. His own voice from childhood echoed softly like a whispering wind, piercing through the suffocating silence.

The voice he once whispered... when no one was watching, now sounded more alive, sending chills down his spine. He remembered that voice clearly, as if trapped in a reflection full of longing.

"I just want someone... to stay with me, even if I can't save anything," he expressed with a tone full of longing, as if all his hopes depended entirely on the effort to reach that presence.

Fitran fell to his knees, feeling the cold tiles beneath him. A drop of blood flowed from his hand—not by an enemy, not by magic. But by the cracks of himself, which felt like a cold stab piercing into his soul.

Yet he stood again, slowly. Gently. Trembling. But not collapsing, even though every step felt like fighting against the gravity pressing down.

"If I am not love, if I do not possess that characteristic."

"Not strength."

"Not loyalty."

"Not order."

"Not sacrifice."

"Then I am... the one who stands firm."

"Even when all the mirrors shatter."

The axioms that had supported Fitran had broken, and the sound of glass shattering became loud in the silence. But just in the midst of those cracks, he felt something that could not be written in glyph: its scent like the first rain watering the dry earth, as if he found beauty amidst the ink of wounds, a symbol of hope and recovery that might still exist within him.

The decision to continue loving... without knowing who he is.