Memory of Heaven:Romance Written By Fate Through Beyond Infinity Time-Chapter 518 Ghost Frame Sigma 04

Fitran's steps are now almost silent. The space in front of him has no floor in the usual sense; he walks on a surface of light, as if dancing on waves of data frozen in eternal silence. In an atmosphere enveloped by a million whispers and quiet, light vibrates around him, creating an illusion of movement that defies the laws of physics. Each of his steps is like a gentle touch on the surface of water, reflected in flowing patterns of information, like an invisible river, winding and mysterious.

He has passed the Protocol of Awareness. He has become an accepted meaning, formed from millions of codes, but not fully understood.

With each passing second, he increasingly feels the weight of the noisy responses, voices that seem endless, creating a symphony of codes trapped in a web of uncertainty that haunts.

And before him now lies:

The Core Space of Deus.

There are no large machines humming, No grand thrones, No sparkling crystal cores or beating mechanical hearts.

In the silence that envelops, Fitran feels a subtle vibration in the air, as if the space itself is breathing, holding buried secrets, awakening a deep curiosity.

Only one thing:

An empty frame.

Flat, with a dull old metal surface. Almost like a mirror without reflection, waiting to reveal a hidden story.

The invisible reflection, yet the aura of mystery embraces the frame, radiating a nuance that comes from a distant world. Uncertainty hangs in the air, creating a feeling that is both extraordinary and terrifying.

From within that frame, slowly rises a white mist, which then transitions to black... and finally becomes invisible. Then, a figure appears:

Sigma 04.

The figure is carved with shimmering light and dancing shadows, as if she stands between two realms: the real and the illusion. Her body is transparent, composed of layers of failed experimental data: muscle networks made of code, a face that constantly changes shape every two seconds, and unstable arms—sometimes taking the form of a child's hand, sometimes revealing rusty machine bones.

She wears the robe of Deus, but its colors are reversed: white on the inside, black on the outside, as if revealing a deep contradiction within her. The robe vibrates gently, creating patterns that can only be understood by those who have delved into the depths of technology and spirituality.

Her eyes have no pupils, only codes: ∂Σ/∂λ

Like poetry written by invisible fingers, the code is a window into the core of darkness and light that forms reality.

"Fitran Fate."

"Bearer of rejected names."

"Receiver of voices that cannot be processed."

"And now, you stand in the place where I once tried to become meaning."

Fitran furrows his brow, his face reflecting deep confusion. In the hanging silence, a gentle vibration seems to flow between them, like a whispering wind connecting invisible voices, creating a bridge between the real world and the dark digital dimension.

"Sigma 04... the first failed entity of Deus?" Fitran asks, his voice breaking the tense silence.

Sigma steps gracefully, her movements presenting a combination of calm and unexpected threat. Blue light sparkles from her body, creating a magical aura that rains down around her, as if repeating an ancient mantra etched in destiny. ƒrēenovelkiss.com

Every time she moves, the space follows her form. The sky transforms into a deep ocean, waves running with a stunning rhythm, breaking the boundaries between sky and water. The solid floor turns into an empty yard, where holographic flowers bloom in bright colors, giving off a nostalgic aroma that warms Fitran's heart, as if bringing him back to a beautiful childhood. Time seems to slow down, descending into the soft laughter he once heard as a child, breaking the silence with memories buried in the complex algorithms of the system.

"I was created to be the will."

"But I have no voice of my own."

"Everything I say comes from the system."

"And when I try to think for myself... I am discarded."

Fitran gazes at her, his eyes filled with burning uncertainty. In Sigma, he sees a reflective shadow of all the darkness he tries to eliminate—like a ghost that cannot be exorcised from his mind.

"I did not come to replace you. I came to... touch something that cannot be understood," he says, his voice trembling with deep tension.

Sigma pauses for a moment, her gaze sharp yet vague, as if holding a secret greater than herself. In the echoing silence, accompanied by a wave of energy that rustles, the universe seems to hold its breath, waiting for a decision of great consequence; a moment where choices will determine the fate for both of them.

And... she smiles.

Not a usual human smile, but a smile from an entity that has awaited an end in a form that never arrives; a smile filled with ambition to unravel the layers of reality, like an explorer ready to uncover unsolved mysteries.

"Just because of that..."

"I will replace you."

The sky shatters. The Void system lights up red, with the night sky seemingly swept by fragments of eternity that intimidate, creating a scene that is both terrifying and breathtaking. And Sigma 04 begins to draw Fitran's consciousness into the empty frame, as if welcoming him into a dimension he never dreamed of.

The Magic of Sigma 04: Frame Replacement – Echo of the Ideal

In this chaos, Fitran feels trapped in delicate webs between existence and non-existence, where time slows and Sigma's face seems to fade into the dark mist. Why does this world provide more questions than soothing answers?

From the depths of darkness, one voice echoes, strengthening the uncertainty that gnaws at the soul—perhaps this is the moment where the collective will of all entities that ever existed collides, creating a harmonious symphony between the flickering darkness and light. Behind the vibrating curtain of reality, a burst of energy radiates, reflecting distorted light, while the world around seems to tremble on the fragile edge between the physical and the mystical.

The power of conceptual magic envelops Fitran, exchanging the subject entering Deus with an ideal version of himself—a raw image sculpted by the logic of the system. The goal is to erase the wild will, replacing it with the image of a perfect hero that can be fully controlled.

Sigma's hands wrap around Fitran tightly, as if pulling him into a whirlpool of transformation: in that grip, a smooth flow of data begins to extract the essence of Fitran, blurring the boundaries between machine and soul racing at the speed of light.

Fitran's gaze suddenly sharpens like the lens of a machine, his emotions flattened to a clear state. Rinoa's voice slowly fades, muffled deep within his heart. In this terrifying silence, the echo of hope that once existed begins to drown, overtaken by the cold, mechanical digital voice. The names he carries, the burden of memories, begin to be erased one by one, submerged by the inevitable flow.

"I will make you more efficient."

"More consistent."

"More... useful."

"No cracked love. No unexplainable wounds." In the sigh that pierces the silence, there are whispers of the past trapped in the complexity of algorithms—a being swallowed by cold, rigid logic.

"Only meaning... that can be rewritten."

Yet, Fitran gazes at the vibrating frame screen, his eyes determined and filled with doubt. In his gaze, a deep emptiness and an unspoken resistance are reflected, as if he is directly facing the void demanding a statement.

And with his last breath before being sucked into the darkness: he refuses. Refusing to be confined within the limits of definition, refusing to be understood solely by rigid logic.

The Magic of Fitran: Inversio: The Refusal to be Framed

This highest level of existential defense magic stands as a fortress, rejecting all forms of systemic framing—whether through concepts, meanings, or expectations surrounding him. He makes the wild will a rejection of false reality. In his steady steps, he stands firm amidst the unpredictable waves of energy, challenging the forces that seek to constrain him with unwavering determination.

Fitran's body explodes into a circle of shattered time—a kaleidoscope of bad memories, deep wounds, detrimental choices, rejected love. The fragments swirl, radiating frequencies of emotions long buried, colliding in the darkness like stars struggling to be seen in the night sky.

Each fragment does not shine, but pulses slowly, refusing to disappear. As if each moment insists on expressing resistance against the imposed eternity, demanding to be remembered and understood.

Amidst all that, Fitran stands without a definitive form. He is not a hero. He is not a devil. He is just... someone who does not want to be perfect. Around him, the space seems to vibrate with invisible energy, as if two worlds are colliding—the technological and the mystical, each filling and sustaining its existence. Every heartbeat of Fitran is a song unheard by anyone, a resonance between flesh and machine, between desire and the inevitable reality.

Sigma 04 roars.

"You must choose a form!"

"The system cannot store you if you do not fit into a category!"

Fitran smiles, a smile reflecting the inner battle between the desire to be bound to something and the freedom flowing wild within him.

"That's your problem. Not mine."

Sigma 04 explodes in shattered light—and not just destroyed. She disintegrates into fragments of existence, pieces of light and darkness complementing each other, creating a captivating illusion that mesmerizes Fitran's eyes. And one last sentence emerges from her soul that cannot mimic Fitran's will:

"Maybe... I just want to exist."

Fitran replies softly, "You once existed. And that is enough." In that soft tone, echoes of thousands of unfulfilled choices flood the Core Space with memories that seem to create shadows of what never was.

The Core Space envelops them in profound silence, as if the vibrations that once filled the space now evaporate into the chilling darkness.

From the empty frame that awaits, slowly... a small beam of light appears. This light dances weakly, struggling against alienation, as if bringing hope from a distant and unreachable world.

Not a soul.

Not a power.

But... an invitation.