Memory of Heaven:Romance Written By Fate Through Beyond Infinity Time Chapter 123 Avatar of Harmony (1)

4 Weeks After the Neo-Gamma Incident

eting Room at Atlantis School, Thirtos City,

"Rinoa, you must understand! Now is not the ti for that," said a man wearing glasses perched low on his nose, his dark eyes locked on her with unwavering seriousness. His voice was laden with heavy concern, slicing through the thick, tense silence that filled the cramped eting room.

This man, one of Atlantis's senior teachers, carried a weight far beyond the usual demands of supervision. Behind his steady gaze lay a storm of unspoken worries, born from the turmoil that had gripped the school. Around them, restless students whispered anxiously and exchanged furtive glances, their faces pale and drawn, as if the very air was thick with dread.

Rinoa's heart sank at his words, a sharp ache radiating through her like a wound opened by harsh reality. The mories of that tragic incident—the brutal deaths of Elber and Marquez from the Round Table Union—haunted every step she took, casting a long, cold shadow over her carefully laid plans to journey to Ente Island. Her thesis, painstakingly crafted in the midst of the chaos, was gone, lost forever when all Neo-Gamma docunts were destroyed. Even the Proto-Speech, her most precious creation, had been seized and taken over by Fitran.

In the weeks since, the Atlantis Magic School Council had clamped down with ruthless efficiency. Every piece of literature related to Gamma was banned outright. Those students who had once stood by Rinoa now found their voices forcibly silenced, forbidden from even eting her. The school corridors that once buzzed with youthful energy now felt like prison walls closing in, suffocating any flicker of hope.

Each passing second weighed heavily on Rinoa, pressing down like a suffocating shadow deepening the darkness within her soul. The chaos that had erupted in Thirtos weeks ago had only intensified the turmoil, casting long, oppressive shadows into the recesses of her mind. In the oppressive silence of her hospital room, her heartbeat quickened erratically, anxiety gnawing relentlessly at her nerves as her desires surged beyond the fragile limits of her patience. For nearly a week, she had been confined to a sterile hospital bed—her frail body inert, yet her spirit restless—trapped in a limbo of weakness and isolation, waiting for a recovery that seed to slip further from reach with each agonizing hour. While her body lay motionless, her mind battled the tightening grip of panic, aching for a freedom that now felt more like a distant mory than a tangible hope.

anwhile, Hernandez's condition barred him from traveling anyti soon. When Rinoa visited, she was t with the sight of his pale, gaunt face etched with lines of intense suffering, though he clad it beneath a valiant, fragile optimism. She could sense the weight of his emotional burden, a heaviness pressing down that dimd the once-bright spark in his eyes, now clouded with a harrowing hopelessness. Surrounded by cautious family mbers and steadfast doctors, their faces masks of grim determination, it was as if they had locked away all hope in a vault of silence and shadows. At that mont, Hernandez should have confronted the raw vulnerability of his state—the tornt invading not only his body but his mind. The strength of his quantum spectrum, that once vibrant force, was fading with an agonizing slowness, slipping beyond the horizon like the last embers of a sunset swallowed by heavy gray clouds. This creeping sense of loss haunted Rinoa deeply, expanding the hollow within her heart and fuelling a paralyzing fear of even greater losses looming on the horizon.

"Rinoa," Sebastian called softly, his voice a tender whisper that gently pulled her back from the shadows of her wandering thoughts. Yet beneath its quiet tone lingered a profound longing, as if his words carried the weight of unspoken fears. Around them, the room seed to throb with a restless unease, every heartbeat stretching into the suffocating silence like a distant drum echoing through an empty cavern.

Her mind remained trapped in a dense fog of worry, a heavy mist enveloping her soul and straining the fragile thread that connected hope to despair. Sebastian reached out, his fingers lightly tapping her shoulder, but she shook her head in silent refusal, a wordless plea not to disturb the fragile solitude that clung to her like a shroud. That quiet rejection deepened the isolation seeping into his own heart, a cold ache spreading beneath his ribs.

The room fell into a stillness thick enough to hold the sound of Sebastian's heartbeat pounding relentlessly in his ears—a steady drum signaling the mounting tension between them. At last, he sighed and slowly rose, the decision to leave pressing heavily on him as he abandoned Rinoa to her sorrow. Before closing the door with the softest creak, he stole one final glance: her bowed figure, hair cascading like a dark waterfall, shielding a face etched with profound sadness.

A sharp wave of sympathy and sorrow pierced Sebastian's chest, igniting an urgent wish to rush to her side and hold her until every fragnt of pain lted away. But instead, heavy-footed and weighed down by the invisible burden of emotion, he walked alongside his ntor, descending the staircase toward the dimly lit ground floor. The heaviness pressing on his heart intensified, each breath shaky as he fought to stem the tide of tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

"Guru Hugo," Sebastian whispered, his voice nearly swallowed by the thick clouds of worry that hung heavy over his mind, each breath faltering and trembling as if pulled by an unseen storm. His fingers clenched the edge of his coat with desperate intensity, as though anchoring himself against the rising tide of tumultuous emotions crashing through his chest.

Hugo's eyes softened with quiet sympathy, his calm voice a fragile beacon cutting through the suffocating sorrow enveloping them both. "I understand, Sebastian," he murmured, his words carefully weighed, carrying the weight of unspoken grief. His face bore the marks of deep concern, every syllable seemingly crafted to build a fragile bridge of hope in the storm raging within the young man's heart.

"You must complete your mission first," Hugo continued, his tone steady but tinged with mournful urgency, underscoring the imperative focus amid the chaos ahead. Yet beneath the determined veneer, a shadow of sorrow flickered, revealing that he, too, bore the heavy burden Sebastian carried.

"We've already lost half of our strength," he added, voice thick with a profound sadness that echoed the shared pain of their struggle. A long sigh escaped him, a soft exhale weighed down by invisible chains of tension, though he tried to mask the strain pressing down his shoulders. The unease hung in the room like a cold mist, seeping into every corner of the dimly lit space.

"I just..." Sebastian's voice broke, caught between a flicker of hope and a swell of anxiety, trembling as if caught in the fragile dance between light and shadow. His heart felt clouded by despair, the future a blurred and uncertain horizon that cast long, threatening shadows over his thoughts.

"Rinoa will be alright," Hugo said, his voice steady yet tinged with gentle reassurance. "She's only disappointed because her journey has been delayed. She's not a girl who breaks easily." He spoke with an optimistic tone, as if weaving a fragile shield of hope around them both. Yet, the faint smile that flickered across Hugo's lips seed strained and fragile, unable to fully conceal the deep worry that shadowed his eyes.

Sebastian nodded, though his mind remained a restless storm of unease. He couldn't banish the haunting image of Rinoa's somber face, her eyes shimring with unshed tears—an unspoken sorrow he longed to soothe but felt powerless against. His heart twisted with every mory, each beat pounding louder in the heavy silence, thickening the suffocating weight crushing his chest.

"Is it because of what happened?" Hugo asked softly, his gaze steady and filled with quiet empathy as he searched Sebastian's expression. His voice carried the patience of a friend desperate to understand the roots of this shared pain, even as the ache echoing in Sebastian's heart resonated within him like a sharpened blade.

"I hope not," Sebastian answered in a soft, trembling voice, his words barely steady as the lingering hope wrestled with the dark shadow of fear clouding his mind. Cold sweat clung to his temples, and his heart beat erratically, as if pounding in sync with the ominous presence cast by Rinoa's gloomy silhouette. Each ti her na crossed his thoughts, a surge of anxiety crashed over him like relentless ocean waves battering a jagged cliff. The haunting image of her lancholic face resurfaced repeatedly, stirring a storm of emotions within him. It felt as though the very darkness of night itself conspired to ensnare him, deepening the suffocating panic that gripped his soul.

"Wow! I was just as stunned when Rinoa obliterated the entire library with nothing more than a few whispered words," Hugo revealed, resting his hand thoughtfully on his chin. His mind flashed back to that electrifying mont, vivid as if it had unfolded only monts ago. Every word he spoke trembled with a blend of awe and fear, while a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips, reflecting both admiration and dread for the raw power Rinoa wielded. His stomach churned with the mory, as though the magical vibrations still thrumd in the air around him. Deep within his heart, he pictured the captivating, yet terrifying force that Rinoa's presence commanded—a srizing tempest cloaked in fragile beauty.

"Do you still rember what she said?" Sebastian asked, his face a mixture of longing and hope. His eyes sparkled with an intense curiosity, eager to unravel the enigma behind Rinoa's strange and unsettling presence. Biting his lip, he felt a surge of adrenaline course through his veins; his soul was propelled by a restless curiosity yet shadowed by the fear of what those mories might reveal. The re thought of revisiting that mont sent a cold shiver racing down his spine.

Hugo replied briefly, his gaze vacant as he stared into the blurred distance, struggling to summon the faint echoes that disturbed his peace. His furrowed brow deepened, mirroring the waves of confusion and a desperate longing for clarity amid the thick fog that clouded his mind.

"If I'm not mistaken, it goes, 'Justice through sacrifice,'" Hugo said with a voice both authoritative and fragile, as though resurrecting those words pulled them into a shadowy abyss that defied comprehension. His voice trembled slightly, each syllable heavy with the weight of an unknowable truth.

Sebastian's voice wavered as he asked again, "What does it an?" His curiosity burned brightly, but beneath it lay a thread of uncertainty. A restless vibration stirred in his chest, as if those cryptic words were guiding him to the very edge of a terrifying and unfathomable depth.

"Hmm... I'm not quite sure either," Hugo replied hesitantly, his finger lightly brushing his forehead as if trying to erase the creeping doubt that shadowed his thoughts. The question lingered heavily between them, a palpable tension that thickened the air, making their breaths uneven and laden with unspoken fears.

"But if it all points back to that phrase, it always seems to lead us to the figure of Fitran," he added, his voice trembling with a charged intensity that quickened their heartbeats. The na echoed like a dark specter hanging in the stillness, emanating an aura of mystery so profound it seed to freeze ti, ensnaring them both in a web of dread and painful revelation.

"Fitran?!" Sebastian's voice cracked as tension snapped through his words. He swallowed hard, the weight of the na pressing down on him like a ghost clawing its way out from the abyss of a forgotten past. A shiver rippled through his body, chills crawling beneath his skin, as though Fitran's shadow was watching, waiting just beyond the reach of the fading light.

"The first ti I t him, I felt a shiver run through —not from fear, but because there was sothing concealed deep within him that unsettled ," Sebastian continued, eyes glinting with uneasy light as the eerie sensation stirred again like a cold wind whispering secrets long buried. Each sentence drew him deeper into the labyrinth of doubt, with Fitran's looming presence casting a dark veil over his mories.

"I felt it too," Hugo said, nodding slowly, his voice heavy with reluctant acknowledgnt. A thick silence descended upon them, dense and suffocating like a creeping fog that blurred the edges of their resolve and clouded their shared space.

"He is the child of a lost history," Hugo continued in a hushed tone, as if speaking louder might shatter the fragile mont. His words wrapped around them like a suffocating blanket woven from ancient secrets and forgotten pain. The weight of untold sacrifices and silent sorrows hovered in his expression, each line etched with the heavy burden of a past that refused to fade.

"That ans the sa as Rinoa," Sebastian murmured, his voice trembling beneath the thin veil of composure he fought to maintain. A deep, gnawing worry surged within him, casting a dark shadow over his bright eyes now flickering with tension. He pieced together the fragnts of truth with a grim clarity, sensing the twisted threads of fate weaving them all into a tapestry fraught with mystery and looming peril.

"The teacher knows that Rinoa..."

Rinoa's mories of the destruction that befell Arkanum Veritas were nothing more than fragnted shadows—dark, elusive, and laden with unbearable guilt. Those haunting echoes clung to her mind, swirling like smoky tendrils that stirred restless sorrow beneath her calm exterior. The whispers said she was the one who razed the secret headquarters to the ground, a chilling accusation reflected in the smoldering remnants scattered on the site—each charred piece of paper a ghostly reminder of actions she wished she could erase.

Despite this, she was granted the status of a student on the 50th floor, a privileged position that afforded her special access and extraordinary opportunities. Yet beneath these accolades, Rinoa felt an emptiness gnawing at her—a hollow ache that no achievent could fill. The loneliness she harbored remained carefully concealed behind her composed exterior. Driven by a restless urgency, she yearned to approach soone for guidance or secure a recomndation to continue her research on Gamma. It was as if a hidden part of herself, veiled by those shadowed mories, pushed her relentlessly forward—a fierce desire to uncover both the buried truth and the fragnts of a lost love.

Within the tangled web of her thoughts, Rinoa also caught word of Fitran's resignation from his role as a Paladin, transitioning instead to the path of a Wizard. This news stirred a bittersweet wave of nostalgia, whisking her back to simpler days when the world felt less complicated and burdens less heavy. A mingling of emotions welled up inside her: the warmth of genuine smiles and treasured mories, starkly contrasting with the unease and uncertainty that now shadowed her heart.

Back to eting Room

9.15 AM

Lost in the storm of her swirling thoughts, Rinoa remained oblivious to the quiet gaze fixed upon her. Her heart hamred violently against her ribcage, cold sweat pearling at her temples as she leaned heavily against the cool, unforgiving wall near the entrance. Her eyes were vacant, staring blankly at the polished floor as if searching for the courage to face what lay ahead.

"Rinoa Alfrenzo," she whispered softly, her voice barely carrying through the heavy silence. It was as if speaking her own na aloud might ground her, provide a flicker of comfort amid the overwhelming isolation that engulfed her. Yet, the quiet around her only deepened the sense of loneliness pressing down on her chest.

The sound of her voice broke the spell, and Rinoa suddenly lifted her gaze to et the approaching figure. A surge of surprise flooded her veins like a jolt of electricity, her heart hamring faster as mories of monts once shared with Fitran flickered painfully through her mind—monts now shaded by irrevocable change.

"Fitran," she replied, straightening her posture with a quiet resolve. Her voice carried a firm edge, though beneath it, her heart thundered relentlessly. In her eyes lay an unspoken weight, a tempest of emotions she dared not voice but could not conceal.

5 minutes earlier in the 30th Floor Corridor

"Rinoa was..."

Before Sebastian could finish his sentence, a figure suddenly erged from the shadows, halting the mont with an unexpected presence. The atmosphere shifted instantly; the tension in Sebastian's eyes lted away, replaced by a spark of curious anticipation.

"Hello," the newcor greeted, waving cheerfully as if light itself radiated from his voice, carrying a warmth that seed to defy the weight of Rinoa's dark past.

"Fitran," Sebastian murmured, recognition dawning on his face. His initial disbelief softened gradually, replaced by a tender warmth as mories of shared days flooded back, wrapping around him like a comforting embrace.

Fitran's broad smile broke through the years of distance, revealing a familiar expression lined with wrinkles at his temples—silent testimony to the passage of ti and the changes he had endured. "No need to be so formal," he said, his eyes twinkling with both mischief and affection.

Sebastian's voice wavered slightly, blending uncertainty with an irresistible curiosity. "But how did you know ? I'm hardly ever seen in public."

A hearty laugh cut through the mont, lightening the air. "Hahaha... so things about you never change," Hugo said, his voice warm but tinged with an unspoken lancholy. Beneath his laughter, there was a subtle ache—a missing depth in Sebastian's deanor that tugged at the edges of his friend's happiness.

Fitran's expression shifted abruptly at the sound of a familiar na. "Eh!? Teacher Hugo," he exclaid, his face paling as though confronted by a ghost from the past. His smile faded, replaced by a complex mixture of longing and astonishnt. The once-bright spark in his eyes flickered with the fragile glow of bittersweet mories.

"You haven't changed a bit," Fitran teased, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "Your nerdy look makes you unforgettable." His eyes glead with mischief, a spark alive in the dim light, as if his joke could dissolve the sudden tension that hung between them like a fragile veil. Yet beneath the teasing façade, a deep well of nostalgia shimred—a quiet yearning for the carefree days long past.

Hugo's gaze shifted away, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush, though the warmth of his genuine smile never wavered. "Thank you," he murmured softly, the words barely above a whisper. The mont stirred faint but precious fragnts of mories—echoes of tis when laughter and simplicity colored his world. Inside, pride and unease wove a tangled dance, each vying for space in his heart.

Unable to resist, Fitran let out a hearty laugh, slapping Hugo firmly on the back. The gesture radiated camaraderie and an unspoken bond seasoned by years of shared trials. Hugo had been the first to reach out during Fitran's darkest days when his spirit was battered and his mind unruly. Recalling those monts made Hugo's pulse quicken, as if the weight of their history surged through him in a sudden, poignant wave.

"So, what are you doing here, Lord Fitran?" Sebastian asked, his voice tinged with curiosity but overshadowed by a sharp undercurrent of anxiety. The air between them felt heavy, thick with unspoken tension, as if every word was weighted with unseen consequences. A cold sweat trickled down Sebastian's neck, not rely from daring to ask, but from the suffocating sense that sothing ominous lood just beneath the surface.

Then, as if a bolt of lightning split a clear sky, the atmosphere around Fitran shifted abruptly. His usual bright and easygoing energy gave way to a sudden, charged intensity that rippled through the room. The change sent a fresh wave of panic coursing through Sebastian's veins, leaving him breathless and unsettled, uncertain of what storm was about to break.

Fitran's voice cut through the silence with asured firmness, each word resonating sharply like a bell tolling in a quiet valley. "I want to see Rinoa Alfrenzo."

In that mont, the na conjured a tumult of conflicting emotions within Fitran—desire tangled with dread, hope bristling alongside fear. The thought of facing Rinoa unleashed a whirlwind of mories, fragile and fierce, leaving everyone present to wonder whether this eting would herald pain or a chance at redemption.

"Rinoa!?" Hugo's voice broke the heavy stillness, echoing with surprise and uncertainty. His face clouded with a mix of nostalgia and doubt, the re ntion of her na stirring buried mories that felt both bittersweet and burdened.

"She's in the eting room on the 49th floor," Hugo said urgently, his finger jerking toward the elevator as a flicker of determination sparked in his eyes. All gazes shifted to Fitran, who seed like the bearer of a silent weight—his presence alone hinting at a hidden truth. A restless tension coiled within Fitran, a silent battle between the desire to support and the dread of what the unknown might unfold.

"Thank you," Fitran murmured, his words drifting like a fleeting gust through the charged air. Beneath their calm surface lay a fierce urgency, a soldier's resolve ready to confront a past long buried. The atmosphere thickened, as if ti itself held its breath, waiting on a choice that might forever alter the fragile fabric of their relationship.

With a steady, controlled pace, Fitran turned and began to walk away, leaving behind the lingering fog of anxiety that clung to the room like a shroud. A heavy silence settled, pressing down on every pulse, each footstep echoing a desperate hope to shed an invisible burden that weighed on his soul.

Hugo and Sebastian watched him with anxious eyes, caught in a suffocating silence that seed to thicken around them like dense fog. The air was heavy, laden with unspoken words and fraught emotions. "Wait, Fitran," Hugo finally broke the silence, his voice fragile yet resolute, slicing through the oppressive stillness that had settled over them. His words trembled, carrying a weight far beyond their sound, reaching tentatively for the fractured pieces hidden beneath Fitran's composed exterior.

Fitran halted abruptly but did not turn back. His fra remained rigid and upright, a statue against the swelling tempest within him—a violent storm of conflicted feelings crashing against the walls of his soul. Each drawn-out second tightened the invisible noose around his chest, his breath growing shallower with the mounting tension that thickened the air like an approaching thunderstorm.

"It feels like you're hurting," Hugo murmured, his voice softening with genuine concern as he reached out to touch the fragile core beneath Fitran's guarded façade.

At Hugo's words, the atmosphere seed to shudder, as if a startled flock of birds exploded from still branches, fracturing the heavy silence. "Hahaha... you're too sensitive, teacher," Fitran replied through a bitter laugh, the sound hollow and sharp as broken glass. His smile was a fragile mask stretched taut over a deep, aching wound. Inside, his soul was ensnared by tangled emotions, battles fought in silence. "Better stop acting like that. Don't make do the sa to you," he warned, his voice steady but laced with an unspoken threat.

The calm surface of his voice was a stark contrast to the roaring storm within. As he turned away and stepped forward, a heavy wave of sadness wrapped around him like a cruel shroud, each footfall etching a deeper loneliness into the fabric of ti itself. Hugo remained rooted in silence, the crushing weight of the mont bearing down on his chest, shrinking their world to just the three of them, suspended between fractured words and fragile emotions.

Sebastian felt the sa suffocating tension, both of them caught in a silent standoff, like a storm held just behind the horizon, ready to crash down with relentless force. The air between them crackled with unspoken words, heavy and charged, waiting for the fragile mont to shatter and release the flood of suppressed emotions. "Heh... maybe I'm overreacting," Fitran muttered inwardly, his gaze drifting aimlessly over the blurred edges of their surroundings. His eyes were vacant, distant—detached from the harsh reality he refused to confront, as though retreating into a shadowed refuge where the weight of the mont could not reach him.