Memory of Heaven:Romance Written By Fate Through Beyond Infinity Time Chapter 499 Light Pulses in Steel Bones

After the explosion of the screens that rejected emotions, Fitran and Beelzebub walked towards the next heart of Narthrador: the Core Corridor, a narrow passage lined with steel bones and veins of cables that crawled like blood vessels from the moaning entity. Along the walls, there were no more symbols of surveillance or commands. Only one thing felt alive—the light flowing from within the tal itself.

The light was not magic.

Not electricity.

But a pulse that had a rhythm—as if Deus Ex Machina was beginning to 'breathe' again.

Fitran stopped at a three-way intersection.

One path was filled with cold smoke and cracks in ti—reflections of events that never happened.

Every step they took sent a booming echo against the tal walls, as if the towering ceiling responded with vibrations of nostalgia from a forgotten era. The veins of cables stretched like fragile hands trying to reach for life, yet trapped in a labyrinth of uncertainty. Here, amidst the kinesthetics of technology and illusion, larvae of wonder were born from the chanical movents in this dead room.

The sll of burning tal and ultraviolet dust filled the air, creating its own fauna drawn from a severed sky. And behind all this chaos, dark whispers circulated, tempting them with promises of transformation; that every part of Narthrador was a pulse of life that continued to spin, waiting to return to the embrace of the creator. Perhaps the robotic children singing inside would teach them how to navigate the distances, within the soul stored in this structure.

The second path was full of chanical singing, almost like robotic children repeating lessons of love in the language of statistics.

The third path... was empty.

Yet along its walls, veins of golden-white light pulsed like a heartbeat.

Without saying a word,

The second path was full of chanical singing, almost like robotic children repeating lessons of love in the language of statistics. Amidst the noise, disruptive and harmonious, there was a note that felt familiar, as if calling a forgotten soul, rging with the pulse of the machine. The flickering neon light from the high ceiling cast moving shadows, dancing between shards of reality and dreams.

The third path... was empty. Its cold walls, sared with the dust of ti, radiated a gloomy aura, like a silent witness of a world trapped between magic and technology. As Fitran stepped into that silence, there was a sense that his steps left marks on the space, creating ripples that awakened feelings as if resisting fate.

Yet along its walls, veins of golden-white light pulsed like a heartbeat. The light swirled, dancing gently in a heartbreaking motion, as if trying to remind Fitran of hope amidst the emptiness. Every passing second ford a bridge between the world of machines and magical wonders, creating a space where both could et, albeit at an unknown cost.

Without saying a word, Fitran chose the third path. The decision felt like surrendering to the silent voice that kept calling him, a call from an unexpected depth. Every step beca a phrase in an unwritten poem, exploring the layers of reality that vibrated on the edge of consciousness.

Beelzebub followed him, but this ti from the side—not from behind. In their togetherness, an aura of magic began to envelop the room, creating a resonance that seed to feed on the emptiness. There was a feeling that after crossing this threshold, there would be no way back, only the possibility of dozens of paths waiting to be explored.

They walked in silence. The emptiness surrounding them seed to call every particle of existence to transform, to beco sothing new and stronger. Tendrils of electric energy twisted between them, reminding them of the dance of synergy between courage and certainty that they were currently experiencing.

And the deeper they went, Fitran's body began to feel... heavy. Every movent seed wrapped in a layer of foreign dominance, making him feel trapped in a labyrinth of ti. The hormones of pain and the awareness of gravity pressed down, as if the space itself beca a living entity, snatching every thread of identity that had once been strong.

His steps slowed. Like a machine losing its energy flow, uncertainty vibrated at his fingertips, leaving behind traces of confusion that could not be explained. For a mont, his shadow reflected a vague image—a hologram of what he once was, trapped between the self of now and the possibilities of the future.

His fingers began to lose their shape. The concept of the body as a separate entity began to blur, where he felt every inch of this reality being redefined in a new form, colored with the essence between pure technology and flowing magic. In that helplessness, Fitran felt it—a rging of realms that was too perfect, yet simultaneously terrifying.

His hands—usually firm and strong in the magic of Voidwright—began to glow and beco transparent. The light from within him began to leak secrets that were hidden, flowing in waves that revealed the uniqueness and gaps between humanity and machines. Wonder and disaster were not once separated in this mont; they moved in tandem, writing a new fate.

Beelzebub turned. Imrsed in the complexity surrounding them, her face reflected the sa anxiousness—a gut understanding that they were not only stepping into a physical direction but also exploring entirely new dinsions, where the boundaries of temporary dinsions began to fade.

"Your body... is being recalibrated."

Fitran nodded. "The system is starting to reprocess as part of Narthrador."

"Then why do you keep walking?"

"Because this is part of the deal. To touch Deus... I must beco sothing incomplete."

Beelzebub wanted to stop Fitran, but she did not.

Because there was a feeling within her—a feeling that she had long consud from others, but now grew from within herself—fear of loss.

And that made her angry.

Angry at Deus. Angry at this city. But more than that... angry at herself for not being able to stop Fitran with words.

The end of the corridor brought them to a small octagonal room.

The room vibrated gently, as if its walls absorbed every heartbeat emitted by their presence. Flanked by shimring holographic pillars, shadows of blood and energy intertwined, creating an indefinable magical atmosphere. The heavy tallic sll enveloped the air, a blend of remnants of old machines mixed with the aroma of magical dicine, conveying as if ti slipped between dinsions.

Beelzebub felt the energy field around them, noisy and filled with shimring micro fluctuations of magic like stars trapped in a shroud of darkness. Flickering and dimming—the powers of magic and technology seed to fight, dancing in the suffocating silence. Amidst the crowd of invisible sounds, she could hear whispers—soft yet dangerous, as if begging to be released from their bindings.

In the midst of this tension, Fitran stepped forward, as if surrendering to the tempting emptiness. "You know, Beelzebub," he spoke softly, his voice rging with the echoes of the small room, "within us, we hold the potential to be more than re tools. Yet Narthrador turns us into torn objects." They both stood srized, waiting for what would erge from the depths of the rging magic and technology.

In the center was a large crystal piercing through the floor and ceiling, like the backbone of Narthrador itself. A cold wind blew gently, carrying whispers from the past, as if the souls trapped within the crystal were beckoning to be freed. The flickering white light seed to form geotric patterns in the air, weaving reality and dreams in an endless dance.

The light from within the crystal pulsed in rhythm with the heartbeat of a human. Each glimr was a note in a shattered symphony, against the backdrop of the dust-laden and empty city of Narthrador. It felt like piercing the boundary between the real world and illusion, where technology and magic intertwined, creating wonder and fear for anyone who witnessed it.

And as Fitran approached, voices began to speak from the crystal:

"Re-identification: unstable subject." "Body transfiguration initiated: replacing flesh with the mapping of will." "Estimated ti: 437 seconds until full assimilation."

Fitran's body trembled. As his heartbeat pulsed in sync with the crystal, it felt as if the weave of fate expressed reluctance to let go of the human aspect. In the struggle between lineage and progress, hope or emptiness awaited to be born.

The light began to rise to his face. Smiles and fears united, creating a tension that touched. Beelzebub grasped Fitran's arm. "Stop. If this continues... you will beco one of them. A part of the system. No longer human. No longer you."

Fitran smiled faintly, for the first ti on this journey.

"If that is the price to open the door to where Rinoa is hidden... I am willing."

Beelzebub gazed at Fitran's face, which was slowly fading to transparency. Amidst the enveloping darkness, a feeling of love ignited like an unexpected star, illuminating the dark and silent corridors at the heart of Narthrador. Worry united with hope, forming a fragile bridge between two souls.

And for the first ti, she spoke not as a demon, not as a monster, not as an opponent or ally—

—but as a being in love.

"I love you."

Fitran froze. Those words shot forth like an arrow released from a bow, piercing the walls of uncertainty and sending waves of silence around them. This was the most vulnerable confession amidst a world filled with betrayal and ambition.

The light from the crystal paused for a mont, as if the Narthrador system was shocked. For a mont, ti felt like it slowed—space filled with emotional vibrations that were still alive and burning, filling every corner with unexpected hope.

Beelzebub stared into Fitran's eyes, which now only held light. In that gaze, locked was the story of a forbidden love between two entities that should have been separated by the line between human and machine. An antithesis that posed a million questions—how far does the boundary between love and sacrifice end?

"I know you won't reciprocate. But before you vanish—I want to say it in my own form. I am not human, not a tool. But I can also love. With all the filth and chaos within . Because you... are the only will I cannot consu."

Fitran bowed his head.

On the horizon, waves of nanoscape energy vibrated, creating an illusion of ti and space folded. Every second, light danced between layers of consciousness, weaving a thread of fate connected by the fine strands of magic. The noisy sounds from the Narthrador system grew fainter, like echoes from a world that seed threatened to disappear.

And as he opened his mouth, his voice was hoarse—not from pain, but because he did not know how to respond to a love he could not hold.

"...You know... even Rinoa once said the sa to . That she wanted to be the will that could not be consud. Perhaps... you are closer than you think."

Beelzebub laughed. A bitter laugh. But it was enough.

Suddenly, the atmosphere felt cold and bitter, like the night wind carrying news from another dinsion, while the crystal emitted a sound like a bell ringing towards capsules flying through the emptiness. The surrounding walls trembled, not only from chanics but from the magical energy uniting—day and night; technology and magic danced, creating a harmony that transcended space and ti.

And in the distance, the music of Deus was heard again—the second note of the Iron Symphony. A series of notes that shattered, as if they could etch a record in the dark sky, challenging the world to hear the untold story. Each lody hinted at promises made by unseen hands, whispering secrets to the orchestras trapped in the virtual void.

The system had changed. The lines of reality began to blur, revealing shimring red shadows between the gaps. Not because of power. That power was rely an illusion—and, like dew evaporating in the morning, it thinned everything that seed. Yet, here, amidst the traces of history etched by frozen fingers, a new understanding blossod.

But because soone loved the will that refused to be understood. As if she beca a bridge, connecting two worlds—where machines and souls danced together in the embrace of uncertainty. An existence that encompassed reaching and releasing, creating a beautiful rupture between desire and reality. In the remnants of fading light, the path to liberation split, tempting anyone brave enough to partake in the universe's fears.