Memory of Heaven:Romance Written By Fate Through Beyond Infinity Time-Chapter 572 The Last Two Stomachs and the Sins of the World

Beelzebub lay weak in Fitran's lap, her breath barely audible in the stillness of the night. Her body was protected by glyphs created by Fitran, but the magic flowing within her was nearly depleted, signaling the end of the arduous struggle she had endured. In the dim light of the night, shadows danced around them, as if sensing the vibrations of Beelzebub's soul, flowing like a river of time carrying the burdens and unspoken hopes.

Elyra lay limp in Fitran's embrace, her soft sobs filling the surrounding air. Yet, from within that weeping, a whisper emerged:

"There are still two wombs left... and within them, it is not a creature, but you yourself who is hiding."

Eighth Womb: "Utero-Inversum: Womb of Self-Hatred"

With grace seemingly enveloped in pain, Beelzebub slowly raised her hand and opened the last glyph that locked her wounded womb. As if shedding layers of the past, the atmosphere around them grew heavier, each second filled with the remaining hope and unspoken sorrow.

This womb released a red mist—not a creature, but the mist captivated with its charm, swirling slowly like a cloud of regret that had settled in a shattered soul. In this elegy, the echoes of everything Beelzebub had ever told herself in hatred reverberated:

"I do not deserve to be human." "This child will die because of me." "Fitran only pities me." "I am the emptiness trying to pretend to be a woman."

The mist enveloped Beelzebub's body slowly, creating a tense aura that surrounded everything, before ultimately trying to consume her from within with unfathomable strength. Beelzebub's inner voices echoed in the void, filling every corner of her spirit with waves of deep anxiety, creating a contradiction between the desire to survive and the despair that threatened. Her hands began to fade, her skin grew pale, and in an instant, she began to vanish into the terrifying darkness.

"Beelzebub!" Fitran called out in panic, his voice filled with concern. He placed Elyra in a warm magical embrace before rushing over, each step shadowed by fear and pulsing hope. However, Beelzebub could only respond with a faint smile, as if bearing the weight of the world on her shoulders.

"This is not a womb to devour enemies... this is a womb that consumes myself," she said in a tone full of despair.

Amidst the chaos, the gentle beat of her heart trembled, marking a struggle that was profoundly personal. "But if I cannot accept my own hatred, I will never be able to be a mother to Elyra," she whispered, as if sending a prayer to the heavens.

Fitran knelt before Beelzebub, holding her tightly even as her body began to become translucent, a strong mystical aura enveloping them in a magical embrace. Tears streamed down Fitran's face, creating a wet trail on his cheek.

"You are the best mother the world has ever created—not because you are perfect, but because you choose to love when the world rejects you," he said with conviction.

And... Elyra began to shine beautifully.

Like a newly born star, the soft light from the baby seeped into Beelzebub's eighth womb, closing the spiral of hatred. She did it not with magic, but with the heartbeat of a child who loves her mother even before knowing what love is. For a moment, it seemed as if the colors of their souls merged, creating an inseparable symphony of love in the embrace of light. Slowly, the womb closed, as if signaling a rebirth. Beelzebub's body, with all the dark layers that enveloped her, gradually returned to wholeness, as if reconstructing herself in a new light.

One womb remained, lurking in the darkness.

The oldest, mysterious.

The unnamed, holding secrets in silence.

Fitran looked at Beelzebub, his eyes filled with curiosity and fear. "What is that...?"

Beelzebub shook her head, her expression filled with confusion. "I don't know. I have never even seen it. It just... exists."

Then, the air trembled, as if the stars in the sky were whispering to one another, witnessing and embracing the revealed secret. Time seemed to stop, waiting for this inevitable moment.

The sky of Philistines, filled with captivating shades of blue, began to write something in shimmering light. The bright blue letters hung in the air, like unspoken hopes, swirling in unimaginable art. They danced in a rhythm that could only be understood by souls bound in fate.

"ℜ𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓪"

A name that could not be spoken, as if it were a mantra born from the depths of mystery. It echoed in the silence, seeping into Beelzebub's soul, making her a witness to something greater than herself, as if becoming a bridge for what had long been buried.

Ninth Womb: "Cavum Silens: Womb of the Forgotten Name"

This womb was not opened by Beelzebub; instead, with a vigilant spirit, it opened itself, as if allowing the dormant womb to sing again in a melody long forgotten, making it a symbol of self-discovery. The hidden power and the restrained voice now merged in a melancholic symphony that seeped into the silence, stirring the emotions buried within her.

As the name Rinoa echoed in the dark sky, Beelzebub's body lifted, not by astonishing magic, but because of the profound meaning it carried. Her last womb—unused, unfilled, and unacknowledged—began to tremble, as if responding to a call long neglected, resonating in the sacred silence, like the wind whispering full of hope.

And from that ninth womb, a light slowly emerged... The light pierced the darkness, like a star appearing after a long night, bringing back the hope that had long been lost and resetting the harmony that had been broken into a new, melodious tune. frёeweɓηovel.coɱ

...forming the figure of a woman. Her long hair flowed like a river of light, with each strand reflecting the light gently; her sharp eyes radiated unexpected depth, as if holding countless stories, and her wistful smile reminded of all the eternal losses. She was a bridge between the divine and the mortal, a figure carrying messages from two lives.

Rinoa.

Fitran fell silent, as if trapped in a memory that came back to life, faced with a captivating moment, filled with a heavy sense of responsibility. Each heartbeat resonated in the emptiness of time, creating a resonance between the past and the present.

"That... is Rinoa. But... how?"

Rinoa looked at him, her expression flat, showing neither sadness nor anger. Her voice flowed softly like morning dew, bringing a calm nuance that sparkled in the silence:

"I did not come to take. I came because part of my name is bound in Beelzebub's womb since your first contract. I... am the consequence."

Beelzebub sat weakly, her head submerged in deep confusion, as if trying to piece together the puzzle pieces of her lost moments. "Why... why are you in my body...?"

"Because part of Fitran's love for me... never died. And it merged into the magic that formed your womb," Rinoa answered gently, weaving an unbroken thread between their souls in a complex tapestry of fate.

Three souls now stood at the same altar, trapped in a bond deeper than mere blood:

Fitran, who loved two women in two different times, enveloped in nostalgia and unspoken longing. Beelzebub, who carried a child and memories within her body, feeling the weight of history and hope intertwined as one. In the dim light, the feelings managed within the mystical created a sacred atmosphere as primordial energy flowed around them, painting a wide rainbow between the real and the unseen worlds. Rinoa, who returned... not as a long-lost love, but as an integral part of Elyra's fate, shining in an eternal light that could not be extinguished, connecting history and the future in one form of life. Her presence not only marked a change but also repeated the unbroken bond between the three souls entangled in a complex destiny.

And Elyra cried. The sound of her weeping echoed softly, as if the entire universe felt it, immersed in the profound and fundamental sorrow.

A single tear—seemingly representing a world trapped in confusion, not knowing who should be chosen and accepted in this critical state. In that moment, time seemed to pause for a moment; each second felt like an infinite burden, crossing the boundaries between deep sorrow and faint hope. Around her, soft light danced, adding depth to the atmosphere, coloring the overflowing sadness, and welcoming an uncertain future with fresh hope.