Memory of Heaven:Romance Written By Fate Through Beyond Infinity Time-Chapter 510 Fifth Pillar – Erasing Love

The sky of Narthrador began to change.

The purple color of the four collapsing pillars now roared with a dark tone. It was neither magic nor mechanical whistling—but the resonance of souls unable to accept their new forms. Amidst the vibrations, it sounded like the screams of their souls, as if they were struggling to find meaning in the painful silence. Every breeze carried whispers of untold stories, waiting to be revealed under the weight of nostalgia.

The Fifth Saint stepped forward.

Unlike her predecessors, she bore no numbers on her face. She didn't even have a face. What existed was merely a hollow gap, like a wound on a mirror. In the silence, the gap seemed to glow, revealing shadows of memories etched in the hearts of every individual—lost love, countless sacrifices. Every second they stood before her, hope and fear intertwined as one.

From the gap emerged a single sentence:

"Fifth Pillar."

"Dogma of Erasure: Love that can save... can also obliterate."

"You, Fitran, have loved Rinoa so deeply... that you are ready to destroy the system to find her."

Fitran's breath felt heavy, as if the weight of the world pressed against his chest. He remembered the beautiful moments when love embraced him tightly, when hopes and dreams of the future merged in a perfect dance. But now, the world felt darker with the choices that awaited him; a single step that could change fate and defy the destiny that separated them.

"If so, I want to ask: Will you also... obliterate her with the same love?"

The question struck like a magical blow to Fitran's chest. freewēbnoveℓ.com

He gazed at the hollow gap.

The Fifth Saint was not an opponent seeking to prove right or wrong. She was not a guardian of the boundary between logic and paradox. She was a moral test. The final test for those who have ever loved too deeply, until they no longer know what they are protecting—and what they are suppressing. In this journey, every release not only reflects sacrifice but also invites fundamental questions about who truly deserves to be saved.

The room changed.

Fitran and Beelzebub now stood in a simulation of a new reality: a world where Rinoa was still alive. As if the universe vibrated in harmony, recreating the long-awaited tale, though Fitran's heart trembled with fear of the bitter reality. In this deceptive beauty, he realized that love does not always provide safety; sometimes it creates the traps we bind ourselves with.

She stood in the distance, smiling. Her hair blew in the wind. Her eyes shone. And in that light, there was hope and buried sadness, as if inviting Fitran to repeat the mistakes he had once made. An invitation to believe in a miracle that might only be temporary.

She called Fitran's name. Her voice flowed like a melody trapped in time, stirring buried memories and reminding Fitran of the sacrifices ready to be made for true love. If all of this was an illusion, then why did his heart tremble? Who has the right to choose between love and loss?

And Fitran knew—this was not an illusion. This was a real fragment of the possible reality that could have been. Potential. Shadow. Reflection of "what if..."

In the corner of his heart, Fitran felt a deep contradiction. On one side, hope fluttered like a flower slowly blooming, yet on the other, fear haunted him like a dark shadow. Must true love be paid for with the highest sacrifice, or is there another way to preserve what has been lost?

The Fifth Saint said:

"This form will live."

"But only if you erase all other versions of Rinoa."

"Those who have died."

"Those who never had the chance to love you."

"Those who have become part of the system."

"Those who now live in your soul."

Beelzebub looked at Fitran.

"I know that expression..."

Yet, behind Beelzebub's sharp gaze, there was an understanding. As if she comprehended the biting dilemma; how heavy the decision Fitran had to make. Erasing the past to find a love that is truly eternal may sound like a noble desire, but is it a sacrifice worth making?

Fitran gazed at the figure of Rinoa slowly walking towards him, silently, with her hand outstretched.

She looked happy.

She looked... unhurt.

A few seconds felt like an eternity, as their gazes met in the air thick with longing. Rinoa seemed to be a symbol of perfect life, yet in Fitran's heart, an inner voice cheered: what is the price of this happiness? He felt as if he had to let go of something precious to maintain the integrity of a long-lost love.

And the Fifth Saint added:

"Isn't that what you've always wanted?"

"A whole Rinoa."

"A Rinoa who does not sacrifice herself."

"A Rinoa... who you do not force to return."

But Fitran did not move. His eyes, usually full of spirit, were now filled with shadows of doubt. Amidst the darkness enveloping his heart, there was an unspoken longing, a gentle voice that erased all hope.

He looked at that hand—clean, unblemished, without difficult choices. Then he bowed his head... and cried. His tears flowed, not only from sadness but also from pure love, love that did not want to make Rinoa its victim. As if every tear was a sacrifice, an acknowledgment that to love means to let go.

"I don't want her to live just because I erase the other possibilities."

Beelzebub approached. There was warmth in her gaze, like a teacher who understands the hardest lesson for her student. In that tense silence, she knew that true love sometimes comes with deep pain.

"Your choice is the opposite of most love, Fitran," she said softly. Her voice trembled, like leaves rustling in the midst of a storm. "Many would choose the best version of the one they love... and sacrifice the rest."

Fitran shook his head. In his heart, he felt the consequences of a sincere love, ready to accept all its forms. "I love... even the part of her that cannot love me back."

A new symbol appeared in the air, the emblem of the Voidwright that had never been used before:

失愛の赦し (Forgiveness of Lost Love.)

Pain and pride battled in Fitran's heart, as if he were trapped in the tyranny of choice between protecting love and letting it go. He thought about how heavy the burden he bore was, like an endless ocean, each wave a bittersweet memory stretching within his soul. And before the perfect version of Rinoa, Fitran took a step back.

He did not erase her.

He did not destroy her.

He let her go.

The perfect version of Rinoa stopped.

Her face cracked.

But not because she was broken, rather because she transformed into light—a light that spread throughout the system and repaired the fragments of love that had once been torn apart by the Gödelian system. In this transformation, hope and emptiness were hidden, a poem left unspoken from the uncertainty filled with longing. The Fifth Saint... fell silent.

"You did not kill her."

"But you also did not save her."

"Then who won?"

Fitran looked at her, his eyes sparkling like stars hidden in the quiet night, reflecting the depth of the inner struggle burning within his soul.

"I do not love to win."

"I love... so that something remains, even in loss."

The Fifth Saint vanished, her shadow creating a void that pierced Fitran's heart. With every passing second, the sky of Narthrador felt colder, as if sensing the impact of lost love.

Not exploding.

Not dissolving.

He accepted his destruction as a result of love that could not be wielded as a weapon. Love that remained present, undefined and immeasurable, as if bound by its promise not to allow sorrow to tarnish its beauty.

Beelzebub sat on the floor, gazing at Fitran in silence, her eyes holding thousands of untold stories, depicting how heavy the burdens they bore together in this journey were.

"If one day I become a threat because of my love for you... will you erase me too?"

Fitran turned, his heart's voice wondering as if repeating a forgotten hope, trying to seek assurance amidst the doubts surrounding his feelings.

And answered softly:

"No. But I will embrace you... until your love transforms."

The sky of Narthrador now opened, as a silent witness to their love journey that had the potential to shake established dimensions.

And the last two Saints stood ready, strength and weakness intertwined within them, creating an atmosphere of inevitable tension.

They did not move.

Because they... were waiting for the will to act first, waiting for the moment when the universe would reveal the true meaning of sacrifice and sincere love.