Chapter 447 Unproven Reflection
The next space had no surface, but the entire world around it had transformed into a mirror reflecting an unfathomable existence.
A frame-less mirror. Boundless. Without origin. As Fitran and Beelzebub stepped forward, they did not see their reflections... but saw their other selves.
"This space," whispered Beelzebub, "holds all the versions of you that the world acknowledges... but you have never acknowledged yourself."
Among the reflections hanging in the air, there were faint whispers of possibilities and decisions, like voices from the past. Each reflection flickered in soft light, as if reminding Fitran of paths he had never chosen, with possibilities inviting regret and new hope. Behind each of her figures lay lessons and sacrifices, the unsolved puzzles of life.
From a distance, Fitran saw a version of himself in white clothing, standing among the people and smiling gently—Fitran the Peaceful King. That smile was like light, illuminating the way for many lost souls, but behind that glow, there was a hidden shadow, as he wondered: am I worthy of this sincere expression of love?
On the other side, he saw himself with disheveled hair, hands stained with blood, standing atop a pile of noble bodies—Fitran the Revolutionary. In the silence that followed, there was a heavy sense that carried the consequences of every anger. The struggle between the two poles of himself became a longing; did desperate actions change the right path?
Behind him, the silhouette of himself embracing Sheena on the throne of Elysvarre appeared. Then another—holding Rinoa's hand, smiling under a star that never existed in the real world.
Every version of himself...
lived.
Breathed.
Did things that could have happened—but did not.