The last staircase led them to the innermost surface of Narthrador: the Dead Observatory—a massive hemispherical chamber gazing at the city's ceiling, eternally cut off from sunlight. Its walls, smeared with dust and silence, were adorned with thousands of lifeless screens, asymmetrically embedded in every corner like shields that no longer functioned. Cables hung parallel to the ceiling, like strands of hair twisted from a world that had lost all life. The floor was made of reflective panels as cold as ice, casting no shadows of anyone, creating an illusion of boundless space. The atmosphere inside the observatory weighed heavily on the chest, as if time had come to a halt in the silence that enveloped it, where only the sound of beating hearts resonated with an unsettling echo.
In the center of the room, Fitran stood like a statue, his eyes sweeping across the faded screens surrounding him. The shadows of lifeless faces projected from those screens seemed to mock his existence, reminding him of the fragility of being and the memory cells that struggled to escape the bitter reality. He felt something dancing on the edge of his consciousness, waiting for the right moment to lunge forth in the depths of darkness.
Beelzebub entered with slower steps this time. Her feet—usually floating weightlessly as if carried by the wind—now planted heavily on the ground, each step producing a rustling sound that echoed in the empty space. Since leaving the prayer room of the automatons, a silent place devoid of bodies, her expression appeared far from cynical; instead, it was enveloped in an aura of doubt. An odd crease formed on her forehead, indicating an emotional shift, and for a creature said to have no heart, her chest once again felt an unusual tightness. Around her, the air thickened with a palpable sense of anxiety, pervading the depths of their souls as though it were pressing them under an unbearable weight. Her breathing was deep and heavy, as if struggling to dispel shadows that couldn't be seen but were felt hauntingly.
She understood the reason behind it all.
The Gödelian labyrinth.
The experience... had not completely faded from within her. That cruel logic had feasted on her memories, reducing them to dust, leaving wounds so deep that even her regeneration could not fully heal them. Trapped within the intricate and dark labyrinth was a profound and painful loneliness, for those ensnared in the endless chirp of inevitable destiny. Each step into the labyrinth felt like a step towards awakening, yet at the same time, it led her deeper into despair, as if she were sinking into an endless dark sea.
And beyond that—one figure could not escape her mind.
Fitran. His shadow cast a faint image in Beelzebub's memory, stirring feelings of confusion and an overflowing inner conflict. Where do these souls tread when they can no longer resist the predetermined fate set from the very beginning? Amid this despair, everything felt like an empty shadow, questioning whether there was a path back to the light.
Beelzebub stood a few meters behind Fitran, cloaked in a chilling silence, observing his every move. The air around them felt dense and oppressive, as if each breath taken carried the weight of unsolved mysteries hanging between them.
Fitran may be unaware of, or choose to ignore, Beelzebub's gaze—as if she has witnessed both the grandeur and the ruin embodied in the same human form. The darkness surrounding them whispered softly, revealing secrets of a past buried in the shadows of a labyrinth that perpetually lurked in the corners of his mind.
Echoes of the labyrinth's shadows once again assembled in Beelzebub's thoughts: amidst fading notes and hollow sounds, it seemed their fates had converged in fragments of time that could not be pulled back, painting a journey that was endless and fraught with uncertainty.
Fitran stood alone in a world that rejected everything, like a statue in the midst of a storm. He chose to erase his own existence, sacrificing himself to protect the fragments of Rinoa, the figure who filled the void in his life. Walking without a body, he became part of the system itself—an invisible entity moving through uncertainty. Beelzebub watched with sorrow as Fitran cried in a form of light, a gentle, vibrating luminescence that radiated hope and sadness intertwining their souls. It drew Beelzebub closer, grasping a reality that was almost intangible, like morning dew vanishing as the sun's rays appeared.
Amidst the emotional struggle, Fitran felt something inside him stir. A tingling sensation touched the deepest recesses of his heart, as if there was a call from the depths of his soul that was hard to explain, urging him to embrace the atrophy that defined both of them. It was not driven by hunger, but by a feeling... of not wanting to be left behind. An unspoken longing that lingered palpably in the air.
Now, within the room lined with dead screens, a tense atmosphere gathered. The first sound to break the silence was:
click.
One screen lit up, casting a light reminiscent of dawn after a long night. The image revealed: Rinoa.
Standing in an unfamiliar place, her face held a story only readable by a soul that understood the essence of loss. Her eyes gazed sideways, silent, as if waiting for a presence that had long since vanished.
In the suffocating silence, shadows in the corners of the room seemed to absorb the light, creating an illusion of deep darkness, as if time had frozen. Fitran's heartbeat resonated like a bell in the stillness, signaling that hope and fear were unexpectedly battling within him, filling every corner with uncertainty.
Then, the screen trembled, quivering like a soul caught in a dilemma.
The light shattered, emitting a captivating shimmer.
And words appeared:
Access Denied: Unknown Emotion Detected.
The screen went dark again, seemingly crushing every newly sprouted hope.
Fitran stared at it with vacant eyes, as if gazing at a moving shadow behind a mirror, yet unable to reach it.
"The system can't recognize it," he murmured, his voice nearly drowned in sorrow. "Even the image... refuses to be defined."
Meanwhile, the air around him felt increasingly heavy, as if every particle of the atmosphere pressed down on the racing thoughts in Fitran's mind. In the midst of uncertainty, he sensed an emotional vibration touching his heart—something that should be forbidden in this place, resonating like waves rippling across a calm surface.
Beelzebub opened her mouth, but the words seemed trapped in her throat, momentarily silencing her. Her seventh stomach—usually tasked with holding broken forms of love—throbbed on its own, inducing a nausea that seeped throughout her body. But this time, it wasn't due to painful poison; it stemmed from a sincere yet forbidden desire.
"Why... are you so stubborn?" Beelzebub suddenly asked, her voice laced with confusion and surprise.
Fitran turned to her, astonished by the honesty radiating from Beelzebub's eyes. For the first time, her gaze held no deceit; only a shocking sincerity.
"Why do you still love him... even though the world, the system, and even your own body reject his existence? Why don't you stop?" Beelzebub's questions hung in the air like a bridge that had not been crossed, waiting for an answer.
As the dialogue hung, a flash of light flickered across the dead screens, as if attempting to respond to the painful silence of her questions. Everything felt like a labyrinth with thick walls that could not be penetrated, where emotions surged and roiled, creating a sensation of being trapped in uncertainty.
Fitran looked at Beelzebub, then turned his gaze back to the dim screens that now appeared bleak—a reminder of lost hopes.
"I don't know," he replied softly, yet with determination. "Maybe love isn't about succeeding or failing. But about... the inability to give up, even when everything else rejects it."
Beelzebub let out a sigh, as the air around her seemed to gather into a profound silence.
She approached with cautious steps, breaking through the stillness that enveloped them. For the first time, she stood beside Fitran rather than behind him, creating a distance that felt closer despite the quiet. The atmosphere in this Dead Observatory grew heavier, as if dark shadows lurked in the corners, signaling the presence of something unspoken. The cold, moss-covered walls seemed to hold whispers of secrets, observing them with unseen eyes.
With a soft and emotional voice, she continued, "I... saw you in that labyrinth. When you stood in the void, battling an overwhelming sense of loss. When you became something unrecognizable to anyone, trapped in solitude. I remember the feeling... losing form, yet still wanting to reach out to you, to feel your presence."
Fitran turned to her, caught by Beelzebub's deep gaze, filled with longing and sorrow. In this tense moment, time felt still, creating an almost imperceptible space between them, as if the world outside had been submerged in eternal darkness.
Beelzebub let out a small, bitter laugh, as if mocking their fate. "Isn't it funny? I, the Queen of the Ninth Belly... now capable of loving something I cannot consume, trapped in this absurdity."
Fitran didn't respond, yet he never refused Beelzebub's presence by his side. The expression on his face reflected deep uncertainty, torn between an overwhelming pure love and the lurking fear of loss, ready to pounce at any moment.
In the silence that enveloped them, Beelzebub bowed her head, as if burdened by the reality she had to face. "You will never love me. I know that. But let me stay here. Until the end. Even until your last voice fades away, I want to witness every remaining second."
Fitran briefly closed his eyes, feeling the pulse of his heartbeat vibrate in the silence. For a fleeting moment that felt eternal, he whispered a single word—barely audible:
"Thank you."
In the suffocating quiet, the air in the Dead Observatory grew heavier, as if time itself was reluctant to move. The traces of memories around them danced like faint shadows, teasing with a thousand unspoken hopes and regrets. Outside the window, the stars appeared dim, as if they were witnessing an unavoidable drama, giving the impression that everything was poised on the brink of emptiness.
Suddenly, all the screens lit up simultaneously, shattering the silence that cloaked the room with a piercing brightness.
Rinoa's face appeared on every screen—repeatedly, with various expressions: a sweet smile, a wounded cry, a vacant stare, a blazing anger, and finally, eyes closing, as if beckoning an inevitable farewell.
Then, a message system activated on the screens, standing as a silent witness to all the buried feelings:
EMOTION LOOP DETECTED.
MEMORY COLLISION.
INVALID LOVE PATTERN.
In that strange and tense moment, a distorted digital voice seemed to resonate through the remaining souls, amplifying the darkness that began to envelop the space. Fitran and Beelzebub were forced to battle the gnawing fear, as everything they once knew appeared to slowly collapse, forming shadowy remnants in the terrifying dimness.
And then the screens... exploded one by one, like indefinable souls, creating shimmering fragments of light amidst the darkness.
Fitran instinctively pulled Beelzebub away, filled with fear.
"This is not just visual. The system is... trying to kill that feeling."
From the remnants of the undamaged screens, a cold and unfamiliar digital voice echoed:
"You love something that has exited the system. Therefore, the system will eliminate the part of you that loves."
The bitterness of that confession made Fitran's heart race, as if he could feel the grip of the threatening system infiltrating his very soul. Each word hung heavily in the air, creating an atmosphere that grew increasingly cold, where noise and silence united in an inevitable conflict. The heartbeat of time seemed to pause, awaiting the crucial decision that would determine their fate moving forward.
Beelzebub stepped forward, resolute and full of courage. She opened one of her bellies—the sixth, the reminder belly—and from within, she extracted fragments of Fitran's memories, recollections that had been swallowed in the silence of the Gödelian Labyrinth. Carefully, she embedded the fragment into the wall, as if trying to carve love into the darkness.
"If you want to kill love," Beelzebub said to the system, her tone firm and defiant, "try tasting mine. See... how irreplaceable it feels, how all these emotions seem real."
The system detected the presence of the fragment, as if sensing the threat contained within.
Overload Detected.
Love Memory Paradox Triggered.
Fatal Exception.
And the remaining screens... went dark, one by one, creating a deep void.
The entire space fell into darkness, as if enveloped by a thick night curtain.
In the darkness, Fitran and Beelzebub stood side by side, pressed against the unspoken tension in the atmosphere.
They did not speak again, yet their hearts echoed in the silence.
But Beelzebub knew... even though she would never attain Fitran's love,
even though Rinoa was a sky she could never touch,
her presence beside Fitran was the only form of acknowledgment she desired, a light in the unexpected darkness.
A held breath resonated in the darkness, as if the very space itself was listening and keeping their secrets. Each heartbeat felt like the drum of war, reminding them of the boundaries that love could not overcome, a bitter reminder of the reality that separated them. Beyond the reach of vision, shadows quivered with mystery, as if signaling an unseen presence held at the edge of their consciousness, hiding behind the dark veil that enveloped the night.
And in her heart, forged from sin, a hunger that could not be satisfied had grown, as if birthed from profound sorrow. Like a cold wind gently sweeping between the silent stars, longing crept into the silence that trembled the soul. Their hearts, like two planets lost in an invisible gravitational pull, spun endlessly, trapped in an unending circle, dancing between hope and sadness. Within that silence, they were both part of a melancholic symphony, ensnared in a melody that was never quiet, a song echoing in the deepest recesses of their souls.