Memory of Heaven:Romance Written By Fate Through Beyond Infinity Time-Chapter 566 Beelzebub Gives Birth to His First Light

Beelzebub gripped Fitran's arm tightly, her fingers seeming to merge in the tension that enveloped them. Her breath was ragged, and though her face was pale, there was a strange light shining within her, a light that seemed eager to break free.

"Fitran... she will be born..."

The sentence fell like thunder, shaking the silence of the city of Philistines, which was now trapped in uncertainty between a world ready to receive and a world that rejected. In an instant, the ground beneath them trembled gently, as if responding to an invisible movement. The air changed; it was no longer cold or hot, but filled with a mixture of hope and fear in equal measure, creating a tense atmosphere that could almost be cut with a knife.

"We cannot let it happen," Fitran whispered, his voice trembling, filled with unbearable fear. "What will emerge from this void is more than just a creature; it is a threat to all that exists."

However... hope always invites disturbance.

From unimaginable depths, beneath where Anathema Partus lay asleep, a crack opened with a rumble at the base of the ruins. From that ominous gap, a tall, faceless figure emerged, its body stretching like a fetus trapped between life and emptiness, never given the chance to complete its growth process.

"We must face it, not just for ourselves but for all the souls that have been taken," Beelzebub cried, her eyes shining with determination and fiery courage.

She was not just emptiness; she was the collective regret—the embodiment of all the births that were canceled, all the children snatched from the embrace of the world before they could be named.

Her name echoed in the air like a mournful song full of sorrow, coming from a failed womb:

"Vȝl'Zaleth. The Cradle Destroyer."

She did not make a sound, yet tears flowed through the melody of a crying baby, the voice of a woman soaring in pain during childbirth, and the scream of a father shattered by the loss of his child, all resonating from within her, adding to the chilling atmosphere around them.

"I can feel her dark energy," Fitran added, gripping Beelzebub's arm as if not wanting to lose his hold on hope. "We must bind her before she destroys everything, before darkness snatches the final notation of this existence."

"She comes because Elyra's birth will break her curse," Beelzebub said with a trembling voice, her hands clutching her belly, which was now tightening in inhuman pain, as if something was struggling to be born. "She wants to stop it—before the world realizes that a birth from the void can purify existence itself."

Without waiting for an answer, Fitran rose with burning spirit. His cloak billowed, lifted by the air pressure emanating from Vȝl'Zaleth, creating waves that intensified the situation. With a steady motion, his hand reached for the hilt of the sword that had long been sealed on his back. This was not the Voidlight; this was the last sword of Avalon, which he had kept for the moment when a name must be given form.

"Excalibur... the last light of a world that has passed," he whispered, his voice full of an aura of hope and honor.

As the sword was raised, a holy light radiated gently, not blinding, but capable of drawing the attention of all around. Fitran's Excalibur was not a sword for killing; rather, this sword had the power to split the concept itself—ending something with meaning, not with destruction.

Yet this time, he realized he needed more than just the form of a sword to face the awakened force.

"Sol Ascendens: The Ray That Writes Birth."

—The Rising Sun That Grants A Name To What Has Been Denied.

Golden light enveloped Excalibur, complemented by pale white spiral accents that radiated elegance. Each flash of light illuminated the sky, as if carrying the names of children who had once been cast aside from the annals of history. Fitran's attack was not merely a physical clash—but a call to reveal the truth that the world had long denied.

"I remember, even though the world chooses to forget!" Fitran shouted, his voice trembling under the heavy pressure weighing on his soul. "Every soul trapped in this darkness needs light, and I will be the messenger!"

Beelzebub responded with a thunderous cry, "Dare not claim what is not yours, human! Darkness is my domain, and you are but a guest!"

As the energy around him vibrated, Fitran felt the surge of magical power flowing through his veins. Lines of light sparkled, illuminating the night sky, as if the stars danced at the arrival of a hero.

It was not merely a physical battle that unfolded; it was a struggle between courage and despair, where the fate of the entire world hung in the balance of the battle between points of light and darkness.

The ruins of the Temple of Reversal became the battleground for two contemporary forces: one wanting to extinguish the birth of new light, while the other fought to protect it until it took its first breath. Amidst the ruins, the night wind whispered softly, as if warning of the great impact of this thrilling clash.

Fitran surged with astonishing speed, each swing of Excalibur not just a slash, but a rewriting of meaning in every second of the fight. He sliced into Vȝl'Zaleth's body—from the gaping wound, it was not blood that flowed, but the echo of a baby's cry full of hope, a cry that had once been silenced by the world. "Remember all that you have ignored!" he shouted, his emotions blazing with every sharp touch of the sword towards his opponent, igniting the spirit of struggle within his soul.

In response, Vȝl'Zaleth unleashed her dark power, dragging her own shadow to create ghostly female figures that moaned with sorrow. Each figure represented a mother who failed to give birth, trying to touch Fitran and whispering in a tone full of vulnerability, "Do not let her be born... too heavy for the world..." With unwavering spirit, Fitran replied, "Heavy or not, it is destiny!" Courage flowed in every word that left his lips, as if echoing the hope that blazed even surrounded by terrifying darkness.

In the midst of that chilling atmosphere, Fitran raised Excalibur to the night sky, forming a shimmering golden glyph:

Insignia Lucis: "Veritas Matris"

The Truth of a Mother

This glyph rejected all arguments of logic and social suffering, leaving one fundamental truth:

"A child conceived in love... has the right to be born."

With a resonant voice, Fitran shouted, "I will fight all darkness for that meaning!" Golden light flooded around him like the morning rays piercing through the fog, reinforcing his unwavering resolve.

In an instant, Vȝl'Zaleth's body partially melted under that light, struggling to rise again with the remnants of her strength. In a desperate state, she unleashed her final magic:

"Utero Terminatum" – The Curse of the Womb Closed Before Its Time

Beelzebub, lying weakly, began to scream in pain. Her first contraction started, but the magic made her belly feel as if it were shackled from within—her body seemed to reject the birthing process that was about to begin, imprisoning hope in darkness.

"Do you really think you can stop me, Fitran?!" Vȝl'Zaleth screamed with a tone full of rage, uncertainty creating a gap in her terrifying magic.

Fitran responded firmly, "The power of love transcends all curses!" His eyes shone with courage, as if igniting a fire that would not be extinguished, ready to face the darkness that sought to ensnare him.

"FITRAN!!" she cried, her voice breaking the silence with a force that moved the soul.

Fitran surged with incredible speed, and with a single sharp slash of Excalibur enveloped in the light of "Sol Ascendens," he cleaved through the magic of Utero Terminatum. He did this not just with ordinary magical power, but with his deep resolve as a father. His heart raced, each beat reminding him of what was at stake—a new life, now hanging between darkness and light. His spirit was filled with sacrifice, driven by boundless and powerful love.

The world seemed to split, and Vȝl'Zaleth's body was existentially sliced, revealing the impact of every slash he made.

The creature looked at Fitran for the last time, her eyes showing a mix of disbelief and acceptance, before her body exploded into thousands of white flower petals. Each petal carried a melancholic aroma, yet also hinted at a deep acceptance. In an instant, the silence overflowed in the air, enveloping everything, as if the universe held its breath, feeling the weight of fate that had been woven through time.

After the Battle, The First Contraction

Beelzebub screamed with a voice full of anguish. Her hands and feet trembled violently, her body beginning to lose control as the pain intensified. She fell to her knees, cold sweat soaking her body, making the atmosphere even more chilling.

"Fitran... it's time. Elyra will be born," she said in a hoarse voice, signaling the arrival of the long-awaited moment.

Fitran immediately ran to her side, embracing her tightly from behind. Gently, he whispered calming spells into her ear, trying to stabilize the magical pressure flowing in Beelzebub's womb. "Do not let yourself waver, Beelzebub. We have gone through this darkness together, and I will never leave you," he whispered, his soft voice giving new strength to the dying woman's soul.

"I am here," he continued, full of conviction. "I will be with both of you until the end, and after that."

"I'm scared..." Beelzebub murmured, her heart shaken by deep anxiety.

"Then be afraid with the one who loves you," Fitran replied, affirming his commitment in these tense moments.

Every word spoken formed a magical bond, spreading the power that flowed between them. The trees around them trembled gently, as if understanding and feeling the hope radiating in the silence of the night. The light from the full moon, whose beauty had long been lost, now seeped to the earth, floating in a soft light that gave new encouragement to move forward.

For the first time in thousands of years, the full moon appeared. In the sacred land that once only knew destruction and the abortion of concepts, now shone a new light—a light that would witness the birth from emptiness and love.