Memory of Heaven:Romance Written By Fate Through Beyond Infinity Time-Chapter 463 Creating Concepts in Incomplete Systems

Fitran stood in the middle of a bleak empty field, where the cold wind blew softly, brushing against her face with a piercing chill. The sky above her was a dark gray, radiating an aura of deep sadness, as if nature itself felt the stagnation of her thoughts. Beside her, Beelzebub and six Voidlings floated slowly, giving the impression that time seemed to slow down in that place, losing the freshness that might have once existed. In her hand, there was no book. Only a single blank sheet of paper, a result of the failed glyph ritual earlier, lifted by the cool breeze that whispered.

Today, Fitran's mood was heavier than usual; an unspoken burden on her shoulders, filled with doubt and uncertainty. The coolness of the air reminded her of the loneliness that enveloped her. She did not want to write the truth. She did not want to shape will. She only wanted to write ideas. With a vacant stare, Fitran felt how each gust of wind seeped into her troubled heart.

After the Gödelian Codex fragmented, the world of magic lost its stability. Contracts were no longer final. Glyphs became wild. Magic changed according to the mood of its user. Some spells even changed as they were read—refusing their initial definitions.

"We live in a system that is no longer complete," said Beelzebub.

"One principle written today... can be contradicted by glyphs formed tomorrow."

"Then we cannot write laws," Fitran replied,

"But perhaps... we can write concepts."

Laws require finality.

Concepts only need recognition. Fitran felt this complexity pressing on her soul, making her aware of the vast loneliness of the sky stretching above her.

Laws demand proof. frёeweɓηovel.coɱ

Concepts... only need the courage to be tried. With every word spoken, that weight slowly burdened her mind. At that moment, she felt as if the sky was watching her, waiting for something more than mere hope.

And on that blank sheet of paper, Fitran began to write, not glyphs, not sentences, but broken lines. The sound of the paper rustled softly, breaking the silence that surrounded the field. The wind seemed to quiet down, as if respecting Fitran's effort to create new strength.

They did not form clear meanings. The isolation of the empty field around her created a resonance in her soul, awakening a longing to find meaning amidst uncertainty.

But when the Voidling touched her, the lines vibrated, then formed:

Concept 1: Meaning is a wound chosen to remain open.

"Does that wound make us more real?" asked the first Voidling, its eyes shining with curiosity. Fitran felt her heart flutter, as if the question was digging into the depths of her soul. The scorching weather became insignificant as she faced something deeper than mere reality.

Fitran paused for a moment, allowing herself to ponder the hope and uncertainty that accompanied that question. A cool breeze briefly greeted her face, helping to calm the tension that began to weigh on her heart. "We all have wounds," Fitran replied softly, "that determine how we view the world."

Concept 2: Unrequited love is still more real than untested truth.

The second Voidling, with its gentle voice, said, "Then, does all love contain truth, even if it is unreturned?"

Fitran looked up at the sky, smiling. Although the cold wind blew gently, causing the hairs on her arms to stand on end, her heart felt warm. Around her, the empty field radiated a captivating silence, with the dry grass swaying gently. "Perhaps," she said, "the truth of love lies in its courage to exist, even if it is unreturned."

She felt warmth around her, as if the Voidlings understood and vibrated in harmony with her thoughts. The sounds of nature formed a background, filling the space with the whisper of the wind and the soft rumble that reminded her of the longing that touched the soul.

The fourth Voidling wrote with its finger:

Concept 3: Uncertainty is a bridge to the quest.

"Then, should we not celebrate uncertainty?" the third Voidling interjected, full of enthusiasm.

"In uncertainty, we find reasons to ask," Fitran added, inspired by the power of the questions arising from the Voidling. The quiet atmosphere, combined with the soft light of dusk that began to darken the sky, seemed to bear witness to this profound conversation.

"Indeed, we must learn to live in this empty space, for from it, meaning can be born."

Beelzebub approached.

She took another pen, and beside Fitran, wrote a thin line to the side. The gentle wind coming from the west carried the fresh aroma of dry earth, calming Fitran's mind that was swirling in a sea of thoughts.

From there was born:

Concept 2: Unrequited love is still more real than untested truth.

"Unrequited love, Fitran," said Beelzebub, her voice soft yet full of meaning. "Have you ever felt that?"

In the vast and silent empty field, the air vibrated with thick silence. The gray sky hung low, casting a dim light that made long shadows rustle on the ground. The wind blew gently, carrying the scent of wet earth and dry grass that seemed to mock the silence with its whispers. Fitran looked down, biting her lip, feeling the cold wind touch her face. "Yes, and it feels like walking on the edge of a cliff. We see the depths, but are forced to turn back." She gazed at the thin line written by Beelzebub, while the other Voidlings listened intently, as if every word merged with the air around them.

The fourth Voidling wrote with its finger:

Concept 3: The desire to touch even knowing it will be rejected... is the highest form of awareness.

After writing that concept, the fourth Voidling added, "What does it mean to touch if it will only hurt?" Its voice was reflective, as if it were trying to reach something deeper than mere words. Fitran felt a sharp longing in her heart, creating bubbles of pain on the surface of her soul, but she also knew that honesty in those feelings was a way to keep moving forward.

"But isn't that its beauty?" Fitran replied. "The awareness of risk makes us more alive, doesn't it?"

And slowly, it was not a system that was built.

But space.

Space to hold meanings that cannot be explained.

Space for those who have lost... to still have a place to stand.

Unbeknownst to them, these concepts began to spread.

A poet rewrote spells into poetry, and that poetry healed more than healing glyphs.

A mother who lost her child sang a wordless song, and people began to dream of their departed children.

A blind sorceress began to write glyphs with feeling... and the world began to write with her.

There was no such thing as rules.

Only concepts.

And the incomplete world... began to find its breath again.

She paused for a moment, feeling the cool breeze hit her face, bringing the refreshing scent of wet earth. The atmosphere of the empty field, though bleak, was filled with profound silence, as if nature itself was torn between what had been lost and what still remained. The Voidlings leaned against her. Beelzebub slept in her sitting position—her wings still broken, but now warm.

And she wrote:

Concept 14: If everything collapses, and only love remains... then we have created enough.

In Concordia Hall, the old architects of magic began to feel restless.

They could not patent concepts.

Could not classify them.

Could not control them.

"This is not magic!"

"This is not a pact!"

"This is not law!"

"But they heal."

"They move."

"And they make people... dare to cry again."

And they realized:

These concepts do not need a place in the archives.

They only need a place in the heart.

"Fitran," a gentle voice from the Voidling beside her helped her think. She felt the warm presence of the Voidling next to her, providing a little comfort amidst the cold and gloomy weather, a reminder that even in darkness, someone cares.

"Are you not worried if that love is lost?" Fitran asked, raising her eyebrows, her voice slightly trembling, expressing the doubts that troubled her mind and heart. The wind whispered softly, shaking the dry grass around them, affirming the emptiness they felt.

"Love will never be lost, only buried. Like us, who are always trying to find our place again in this world," replied the Voidling, gazing at the gray sky, reflecting the uncertainty scattered in Fitran's soul. In her gaze, there was a glimmer of hope even though it was covered by dark clouds.

Fitran and Beelzebub finally gathered all the concepts into an unmarked scroll. They did not name it.

Did not spread it.

Did not publish it.

They only left it... at the doorsteps of empty houses.

At the edge of hospital beds.

Beside nameless graves.

"If we go, what remains?" asked Beelzebub, her voice trembling.

"All we leave behind is sincere love," Fitran replied. "That is the legacy that will never fade." In her heart, Fitran felt a deep sorrow, blocked by the shadows of the past that always haunted her. Every conversation with Beelzebub increasingly opened old wounds, bringing back sweet memories that slowly faded behind the cold of the endless atmosphere.

And every time someone opened that scroll—be it a sorcerer, a poet, or a child—

a part of themselves found its shape again.

In an incomplete system,

we can create concepts.

"Sometimes, we must lose something to rediscover true value," said the Voidling while glancing at Fitran. Her voice was calm, even though in her heart she felt every word echoing through the valley of sorrow that enveloped Fitran's thoughts.

"True," replied Fitran, recalling the nights when they listened to sorrowful songs under the stars. At that moment, she felt as if every star in the sky was a lost hope, yet their light still stirred the love that never faded in her soul.

And concepts, though imperfect,

can become a home for unfinished love.