Memory of Heaven:Romance Written By Fate Through Beyond Infinity Time Chapter 540 Fitran countered with the Sword of Voidlight

After an existential confrontation that echoed without reverberation, and after the words "You were never needed" were given space instead of being rejected, the world began to calm.

However... the system was not truly dead.

Within the remnants of the shattered Deus, one unexpected final function was hidden:

Residual Directive Code Na: Null Crown Function: To erase those who survive after the system ends.

Not out of hatred. But because of simple logic:

"If soone remains alive after the system dies, then they are an anomaly of an anomaly."

Fitran felt a strange vibration within him, as if every word that flowed from that floating crown touched the deepest parts of his soul. In that painful peace, a sense of anxiety swirled in his mind—was he truly an anomaly, or rely the waste of a bygone era?

The bodiless entity was rely a floating crown, made of inactive gears and symbols of the Void that continuously transford. Its face may not have been visible, but the Null Crown could see beyond re physicality—absorbing all doubts and fears that gnawed at human essence.

As it observed Fitran, silent sorrow filled the space between them, creating a burdenso atmosphere. A symphony of despair was depicted in the gentle movents of the spinning gears, as if dancing in an unmatched conflict between creeping hope and the certainty that all that exists must co to an end. In helplessness, Fitran felt an irresistible pull, bitterly realizing how he was dragged into a ga that had no path to victory.

Faceless. Silent.

It only watched and absorbed existence.

Every ti it appeared,

color faded, sound vanished, and aning transford into empty formulas.

Fitran realized this too late.

Faceless. Silent.

Only watching and absorbing existence.

Every ti it appeared, beautiful colors seed to be sucked away, cheerful sounds faded into silence, and anings that were usually full of life turned into empty formulas.

In the suffocating silence, Fitran felt the presence of helplessness weighing upon him; as if the whole world conspired to erase his trace, leaving him adrift between existence and non-existence.

Fitran realized this too late.

A village at the edge of a newly growing world—gone. Not rely destroyed, but erased.

Not death in the usual sense. But as if they had never existed.

Every thought that crossed his mind was filled with profound loss, like shadows drifting aimlessly, as if he were the remnants of sothing greater, entangled in mories that seed to deem him insignificant.

And now, the Null Crown moved towards him.

"You are not part of the final outco."

With a cold and terrifying tone, that voice echoed in Fitran's soul, awakening fears he had long tried to suppress. In the sharp gaze emanating from that being, he saw a projection of impenetrable deep darkness, as if signaling that the light of his life had gone out.

"You survived not because you were needed."

Fitran's entire existence seed to be at stake in that sentence, dragging him deeper into the abyss of doubt. He felt trapped in a web of nihilism that bound him, as if there was no place for him in the broader narrative of life, in line with the cold wind that carried a ssage of hopelessness.

"Then your existence... will be summarized."

As those words were spoken, the wind seed to stop. The universe held its breath, creating a silence thick with tension, awaiting a reaction from this helpless being. Fitran, who had no armor to protect himself, had no intact body as a shield, stood alone in the darkness—holding back the movent of the emptiness that pressed in.

He knew he could not win with words, it was impossible to dialogue with the void that surrounded him. Because this... was a faceless will, a power far greater than himself.

Yet, within a heart trapped in chaos, there was a strong urge to fight, even as his conscience's voice was faintly echoed beneath layers of thick emptiness. mories flowed like water, forming an inevitable stream of thought that continued to tempt his existence.

And at that mont... from the buried remnants of the Origin Code, from the anings he had once released from the embrace of mory, and from nas that returned unbidden, a sword was ford.

Voidwright Weapon: Sword of Voidlight – A Sword of Light from the Void

This sword was not forged by magic, logic, or selfish will. But by all the intentions that remained standing, even if unrecognized.

In the soft light of the sword, Fitran felt a power enveloping him, as if he were freed from the shackles of helplessness that had bound him for so long. Every glimr emanating from the sword called his soul to rise again, to fight against the despair that surrounded him.

This sword does not cut flesh. It separates false existence from honest existence.

With a thin and transparent blade, the sword reflected nas that had once tried to be forgotten but could not be erased from mory. The gentle light surrounding it did not pierce the eyes; instead, it was soothing—as if it were the eyes of soone you wanted to rember forever. In his mind, Fitran contemplated every sacrifice that had brought him to this point. The struggle he faced now felt more than just a battle; it was a quest for identity, a journey towards his inner truth.

At the base of the sword, it was clearly engraved:

"I was here."

Fitran raised the sword high. His cracked hands showed how great the struggle was. His body, though broken and full of wounds, could not erase his intention... perfect. Behind the pain that gnawed at him, there was a burning spirit, illuminating the darkness lurking within his soul.

The Null Crown attacked.

But its attack was not in physical movent, but in total denial:

All traces left by Fitran began to vanish from reality. His footsteps seed to evaporate from the ground. The words once spoken disappeared from the mories of other beings. And in the midst of that nothingness, the hidden fear within the Null Crown began to surface, a feeling long covered by tyranny and power. Would it also, in the end, be forgotten?

Yet Fitran struck once. The sword, which should have emitted dazzling light, instead sank into darkness. There was no sound of clashing that usually accompanied the collision of weapons. Only one unexpected result:

The Null Crown stopped.

It gazed deeply into its reflection in the blade of the sword. And for the first ti... the Null Crown realized that it too... had never been

Yet Fitran struck once. The sword remained silent, making no sound, giving off no light. Only one result:

The Null Crown stopped.

With a vacant stare, it watched its own figure reflected on the surface of the sword. And for the first ti... the Null Crown realized it too... had never been needed.

"I am rely the crown of a failed system."

"Why am I still here?"

Fitran did not answer with words; he answered with action. He opened his palm, revealing his heart, and allowed the crown to fall.

With every passing second, he felt a heavy burden lifted from his soul, like a dark cloud that had long shrouded his lonely days finally beginning to dissipate. In the tranquility that enveloped him, Fitran gazed at the beautiful rain gently falling from the sky, as if nature itself celebrated that mont with him.

Not defeated. Not discarded. Released.

The Null Crown shattered, its fragnts scattered like falling stars, but from its shards, a small flower erged—gently blooming from an existence that now fully accepted itself. Amidst the emanating beauty, there was a resurrection that touched the soul, not only for the crown but also for Fitran, who began to understand that behind every pain, there lies limitless potential for growth and developnt.

The effect of the Voidlight Sword surged through the air, radiating a mystical aura. There was no painful destruction. Instead, there was a resonance of acceptance. In the place where the Null Crown once stood majestically, young trees began to grow, reaching for the sunlight with renewed spirit, rging with anings that had previously been rejected. Fitran witnessed that stunning sight, as if all the sorrow and dissatisfaction that had once gnawed at his heart transford into new hope, deeply rooted in the moist earth, ready to rise high into the sky.

Fitran firmly planted the sword into the ground, as if affirming his commitnt to change. He did not take it away, for the world now knew: aning does not need to be defended. It simply needs to be given a place.

In the echoing silence around him, there flowed a new conviction into Fitran, awakening him to the realization that every end is a prelude to a fresh beginning. He inhaled the fragrance of blooming flowers, a scent rich with hope, as if it were a manifesto of all the despair that had passed, and felt that soday, he too would bloom in the sa way, filling the world with colors and beauty that dared to exist.