Memory of Heaven:Romance Written By Fate Through Beyond Infinity Time Chapter 534 Beelzebub Meets His First Shadow

While Fitran faces He Who Reflects Logic in the mirror room, on the other side, Narthrador, the Shadow begins to take shape.

In the thick darkness, crossing the boundary between reality and illusion, ti seems to slow down, dancing gracefully in the void. The rumbling sound of the battle that shakes the soul awakens hidden powers within her, powers that have long been dormant in a forgotten soul. Each heartbeat echoes in the cloudy sky, vibrating to the soul, as if emphasizing Beelzebub's decision that has been buried in dark mories.

Not from the Void.

Not from the system.

But from the mories left by Beelzebub herself.

In the frozen silence, those mories take her back to tis when feelings and desires intertwined in an inseparable unity. Each mory feels like waves crashing against the shore, inevitable, pushing her into an endless battle between sharp logic and burning emotions.

She was born in a place where Beelzebub did not want to look back.

In the gap between the love she once rejected,

and the hatred she once embraced without doubt.

The First Shadow.

The original form of Beelzebub before she chose the path of love.

Her height remains the sa.

Her body appears unblemished—darkly radiant, free from wings.

In the mysterious reflection, her body seems to dance among the fragnts of ti, depicting a journey full of wounds and arrogance. The aroma of tension envelops the air, creating a spirit that flows in every corner of the space with a power that touches the soul. When courage ets doubt, the shadow carves a new path toward an undisclosed destiny.

Her gaze is empty, as if holding untold secrets.

And on her chest is written:

"I don't need a reason."

She is not an evil version, but a version without emotional will.

A version that only executes destruction because that is its original function.

Beelzebub gazes at her, standing in the ruins of the temple that once served as Deus's fortress. In the embrace of a trembling silence, echoes of the past are etched clearly, as if demanding acknowledgnt of every feeling lost between the two entities.

A quiet wind blows gently.

No protector to shield,

No witness to observe,

Only two versions of herself... in the silence of reality that grips.

As the shadows of the past wander in her mind, the figures she loved pass by like moss covering dead bricks, bringing forth a deep sense of nostalgia. Called by the vibrations of feeling, the separated soul recalls beautiful monts that seem to revive a long-stopped heartbeat.

The Shadow: "You have strayed."

"You feel."

"You love sothing that cannot be possessed."

"Then I co, not to punish you—but to reclaim our body."

Beelzebub shrugs heavily. Her body feels weary, as if every muscle is filled with profound fatigue. Her soul, on the other hand, is full of cracks, reflecting the hidden fragility. Yet, behind those cracks, a small light begins to seep, a glimr of hope that refuses to fade, writhing in the darkness. Each heartbeat now feels deeper, stirring the hidden courage to fight, even though it has been declared extinct.

Yet her eyes... blaze with an unquenchable spirit.

"If you can take this body without understanding feeling... then take it."

"But I will not surrender it to the void that claims to know ."

Duel of Will – Love Against Function

This battle is not rely a clash of physical strength, but between two life choices:

One chooses efficiency, a path filled with calculation and disregard for feelings.

The other chooses an existence that is marginalized, unrecognized by the world, yet rich with unspoken emotional depth.

The shadow does not attack physically, but pulls all of Beelzebub's initial logic—raising fundantal questions: why must she hate? Why must she destroy? And why does love always feel like a burdenso weight?

Yet, amidst the dust and shadows, a transformation is underway. Beelzebub feels the tension shaking her soul, as if every choice faced shakes the foundation of her existence. In the fatigue, there is a glimr of light seeping in; an unexpected hope, as if inviting her to look deep into the darkness.

"You let Fitran live," a voice in her heart whispers, awakening the buried feelings.

"You surrendered your body to beco architecture," it continues, revealing mories that are too fragile.

"You even... cried," the whisper becos clearer, as if unveiling the veil of sadness long buried.

"What is the result?"

"Nothing."

Yet, as she reflects in oblivion, one question echoes in the void: Is feeling a bond or liberation? Each tear that flows shapes her soul into sothing more whole, creating a colorful painting of pain and hope united in silence. In that mont, Beelzebub feels the presence of unexpected love; stronger than re function, richer than re existence.

Beelzebub laughs.

Her small laugh, broken and full of sarcasm, fills the empty space.

"The result... is standing here."

"Not because I won."

"But because I can still choose."

"And my choice... is to keep loving, even if it saves no one."

"That... is enough."

In the silence, the shadow attacks.

Not with magic,

But with the erasure of emotions, creating a void that bites the soul.

Beelzebub begins to forget the reasons she loved Rinoa.

Forgets why she fought alongside Fitran.

Forgets the night she wanted to relinquish her body for the grand architecture.

Yet... one small voice remains in the deepest corner of her heart.

As the shadow approaches, the air feels increasingly suffocating, as if every breath Beelzebub is ensnared in the embrace of emptiness. Darkness envelops her surroundings, like a heavy blanket, but a faint light from her soul glows softly, challenging the darkness that seeks to swallow her.

Not Fitran's voice.

Not anyone's voice, but

the voice within herself, which she once thought had died.

Like the whisper of the wind, the term "love" begins to vibrate in the empty space, shaking her bound heart. Between shadows and emptiness, courage multiplies, as if grasping the light that awakens again from the darkness. With every rumble of her heart, Beelzebub feels a spiritual transformation, as if her na rges with sothing greater than herself.

"I do not wish to be understood."

"I just want to exist... even if I am unwanted."

And that voice...

becos wings.

Beelzebub's Final Magic: Wings of Refusal – The Demon Who Chose to Stay

Wings that are not rely for flying, but refuse to be dragged back to their original form. These wings are made of fragnts of acknowledgnt, reflecting every love she has kept in her heart, yet could not save.

In that mont, pink light sparkles around each wing, like morning dew giving life to every hidden detail. Beelzebub can feel the pull of life against what should be despair, as if that light is hope that never fades. "I am here," she whispers to herself, calling forth deeper mories, as longing and fear intertwine in a battle within, producing echoes that shake the soul.

Two cracked black wings erge gracefully. Yet within them, pink light sparkles—a symbol of sha, courage, and unreciprocated love. Each flap of her wings seems to dispel one by one the argunts of the Shadow that obstruct her path.

Beelzebub's inner self trembles with each flap, feeling as if each wing paints the stories that are lost and hopes that are renewed. In every passing second, she feels a movent that is more than re presence; she feels a profound transformation. In the silence of the space surrounding her, a burning desire to release all that has been discarded in her life is heard. "What can I give back?" she asks herself, as pain and desire rge into one within her empty soul.

The Shadow: "You are not Beelzebub."

Beelzebub: "You are right. I am Beelzebub... who chooses to love."

The shadow begins to fade, as if swallowed by darkness. Her body dissolves into systemic dust, as if lting into part of the surrounding space. But before completely disappearing, it whispers softly:

"If love does not endure... will you be reborn in my form?"

Beelzebub smiles, her gaze conveying hope and determination.

"Maybe."

"But if that happens, there will always be soone... who makes want to fall again."

She feels a gentle breeze caressing her face, like an invitation to reflect on the duality between darkness and light that resides within her soul. Amidst the shattered ruins, a soft light begins to flicker around her body, as new energy seeps into every wounded cell, replacing despair with hope that radiates life. And with that,

The First Shadow vanished.

Not rely defeated,

But released.

Beelzebub stands amidst the ruins that depict a tale of sorrow, her arms wide open,

embracing the flow of new strength that flows gently like a river of light, radiating hope and healing for her soul. The air of the world seems to co alive again, filling the empty space with new vitality.

She gazes at the bright sky, her eyes filled with gratitude, and murmurs:

"Thank you, Fitran."

"For loving ... even when I have not loved myself."