Memory of Heaven:Romance Written By Fate Through Beyond Infinity Time Chapter 542 Inaccessible Memory No Name

The last Deus tree has revealed part of Rinoa's history. Fitran now realizes that Rinoa is not just a girl he wants to save—she is a being who lived millions of years ago, chosen by the Alien Gods, and hidden by the Deus Ex Machina system.

However, there is sothing still hanging in the air. This room, filled with a dark and calm aura, seems to hold a million secrets hidden in its darkness. The faint light reflecting and dancing from the logic cube creates strange shadows on the walls, resembling unknown faces whispering in silence, as if asking to be heard.

Why does she know Rinoa is in the Void? Why does she—of all beings—move toward the Deus labyrinth as if she knows her way for certain? These questions envelop his mind like a complex web of spiders, binding him in doubt and uncertainty. Behind every corner, it feels as if sothing is watching, waiting to be revealed, teasing his curiosity.

And the most frightening part:

Why does his heart know... even before his mind fully understands? Before he is trapped in doubt, a deep feeling seems to guide his steps forward, as if his soul is mysteriously and inevitably connected to this place. In the profound silence, he hears the voice of shadows, an echo of forgotten mories, lancholic and hypnotic, haunting his thoughts.

Now he steps toward the hidden layers of Deus, passing through system sectors that even the early architects dared not touch. Each step feels heavy, as if pressed by the unexpected presence of the past, like a dark shadow that follows him relentlessly. Every wall seems to hold glimpses of buried mories, radiating a deep longing, as if preserving secrets waiting to be uncovered.

The door before him appears magnificent, yet only opens for entities that once created the initial structure. However, as he touches it, the door opens by itself, as if responding gently to her presence. This event is like the opening of a curtain on a stage, revealing an unfinished story, inviting him to step into the mystery that awaits.

Room Without a Na

On its walls hang hundreds of disorganized logic panels, shimring in the dim light. So of these panels emit a soft glow, as if calling to her with gentle whispers, inviting her to delve deeper into the long-buried secrets.

In the center of the room stands the first Deus core, a logic cube the size of a head, pulsing like a heart, marking its presence in the vastness of the room. The placent of the cube radiates a calming silence, and the material used reflects light in a srizing way, as if made from mories that never die, stored within ti.

On its surface is engraved a sentence that cannot be fully read, as if hidden in a fog of mystery:

"Deus Ex Machina Prototype — Creator: ____" Is this a sign of an eternal quest, waiting to be solved by its true owner?

And beneath it:

"mory cannot be accessed. No na." This helplessness reveals the fragility of existence, adding to the sorrow that grips him, as if holding Fitran's heart in a tight embrace.

Fitran approaches, his steps slow, as if afraid to disturb the tense balance of ti. He touches the cube, its cold surface emitting a strange vibration. With each touch, there is a feeling that constricts his chest, a deep awareness that he is connected to sothing far greater and more mysterious than himself, a web of fate full of question marks.

ERROR 931–VOIDTRACE "Creator na not found." "Entity: FITRAN FATE — verification result failed." "Logic error: Na too deep to process."

The Deus system—which can recognize all variables and deviations—now finds itself in a deadlock, unable to process Fitran's na, as if the na is stored in a labyrinth that this advanced system cannot penetrate.

In the cold silence of that room, the echo of the chanical voice from the system vibrates in the air, creating an oppressive atmosphere, as if every word is a shadow of what has been lost. In the dim, mystical light, shadows dance on the surface of the cube, reflecting Fitran's anxious and restless face. He feels trapped in the labyrinth of his own mind, caught between hope and fear that envelops every corner of his soul.

He is not a stranger in this world. On the contrary, he is too familiar.

As if Fitran is part of the system itself, where his mories and identity intertwine in invisible threads. Or rather...

A dark secret vibrates in the recesses of his soul, like the vibration of a violin played with deep sorrow, reminding him that he is both a pawn and a king in this endless ga. His mind oscillates between reality and darkness, as if mory is a net that entangles him, pulling him back to places he chose to forget, making it an unavoidable signal of choices made.

He is the author of this story.

Fitran steps back, his heart racing, enveloped in a creeping panic within. His hands tremble, powerless against the reality that shakes the foundation of his beliefs.

"Did I... create Deus?" Fitran's voice trembles, barely audible. "Then erase my own mory... so I couldn't change my choice?"

In the suffocating silence, shadows of the past awaken, piercing the boundaries of ti and identity, chasing the traces carried away by the wind. Pain envelops him, not only from the loss of mory but also from the painful knowledge: that he might be the architect of everything that has trapped him in this labyrinth of thought.

And the cube nearby responds, emitting a cold and chanical voice:

"Founder's fragnt verification detected."

"mory recovery initiated..." "...stopped." "Void in structure too dense. Na cannot be restored."

The entire room changes in an instant. On the walls, thousands of nas are rewritten: As the cold light rolls around the room, the atmosphere becos heavier, as if every na that appears carries an unspeakable burden. Each letter appears with striking clarity, serving as a reminder that this identity, once alive, is now erased in eternal emptiness.

Rinoa. Lir Seraphin. Elyndra. [ ] Fate.

Yet one na always appears wrong. In the suffocating silence, a whispering voice penetrates the atmosphere, full of curiosity and emptiness, reminding that not all who are born have a place in eternal mory.

[ ? ] [UNREADABLE] [NULL/FITRAN?]

Fitran tries to write his na on the Deus terminal, but every letter disappears before completion. Disappointnt gently creeps into his soul, as if every effort to construct his identity only results in fading traces, vanishing into the deep darkness. Hope wavers, entangled in the illusion that he exists.

"Your na is the origin of this system." "Thus the system cannot store you." Those words echo coldly between the naless walls, creating a resonance that touches the core of Fitran's fear. In monts like this, he feels how fragile yet imnse his existence is, trapped between creation and emptiness.

"That is the price of being a creator: you cannot be rembered by your creation."

Fitran falls to his knees, his body feeling heavy, pulled by an unspeakable burden.

He feels he has no place in this world, for this world... was made by him. As if his entire existence crumbles in the awareness of the creation he left behind.

The space around him vibrates, the atmosphere filled with faint shadows—erased mories flowing across the walls with a silent sound, creating echoes that remind of sothing that once existed. A hollow voice envelops him, adding to the pressure that binds him, reminding that sotis mory is more real than reality itself, blurring the boundaries between the two.

Yet behind all that, he knows there is no place for arrogance.

He is afraid.

"If I did create Deus..."

"...then why am I trying to destroy it?"

And at that mont, a recording appears like a ghost from the past. A small video—a hologram vibrating before his eyes. Its voice is distorted, the face appearing distorted adds to the somber atmosphere. However, waves of nostalgia flow in his blood, penetrating the emptiness that has long enveloped his soul. But Fitran knows, it is him.

"If you see this, then you have forgotten." "That is what I hoped for."

"I created Deus... not to control." "But to save Rinoa—from all beings who want to possess her."

The empty space now seems to sing, playing an inaudible lody, reminding him of love and regret that spills between dinsions. Every word spoken seems to groan, deepening the unbearable sense of loss, embedding unspoken pain in the recesses of his heart.

"And... from myself."

"Because I once wanted her not as a human, but as a concept."

"And I know... that is wrong." "So I decided: I will create a system strong enough to protect her."

"And... from myself."

"Because I also once wanted her not as a person, but as an ideal idea."

"And I know... that is wrong." "So I made the decision: I will create a system strong enough to protect her—even from ."

"Then I erased myself from the system."

"And if now you return to this point..."

"...it ans you are human enough... to choose not just based on code."

The hologram fades.

Fitran falls silent.

In that chilling silence, the walls of the Deus room seem to breathe, releasing a gentle sigh that imagines forgotten stories stored in every crack and corner. The soft and rhythmic ticking of a clock adds to the silence, crossing the stillness like the trickle of water in an unseen river, creating a sense of emptiness that envelops every inch of the room. Shadows of the past co peeking, appearing faintly like ghosts trying to creep into long-forgotten mories. He is trapped in doubt, no longer knowing which part of himself is real. Is he a protector? A system writer? Or just an ordinary man who wants to love soone untouchable?

Yet one thing he knows for sure:

"I choose again." "Not because I need to save Rinoa." "But because I want... to stand by her side, and no longer fear knowing her as a person."

And at that mont, the atmosphere in the room seems to change, as if ti slows down to give new aning to his soul-stirring decision. The vibrations from the depths of his heart awaken a sense of presence that becos increasingly real, as if all identities and mories that should have been erased slowly begin to return, flowing like a river finding its course again. In the center of the room, in a small shimring blue light, the na FITRAN FATE appears once... but quickly disappears.

Because that na... cannot be stored by the system. But it can be rembered by the heart.

The room seems to witness everything, holding unspoken hopes and disappointnts, waiting for the presence of soone capable of reviving lost mories, as if ready to offer a warm embrace to the lost soul.