Chapter 452 A Room Without Meaning, But Full of Feelings
Their steps penetrate the light mist. There are no doors, no boundaries, no floors that can truly be seen. Yet their feet keep moving, as if this world is not formed from structures, but rather from permission.
The room is... just white, with walls that seem formless blending with the soft light that spreads, creating the impression of an endless space. Thin lines form a rectangle, faint and almost invisible, adding to the feeling that they are trapped in an indescribable dimension.
This space feels like cotton, making each step feel like floating, spreading both tranquility and anxiety simultaneously. It does not shine, does not reflect, only a cool sensation wafts from its smooth surface, as if holding feelings that do not want to be seen and do not want to be forgotten. Beelzebub walks slower than usual; her golden hair no longer shines. Only remnants of warm light like a fading dawn remain, while blurred dots float, creating the illusion of an unbound space. The blend of tranquility and absence makes her feel as if her thoughts and feelings are being drawn into the center of a deep void, testing the limits of the emotions she once had.
The soft gray wings on her back no longer move, and she feels a weight in her chest. "What is this?" Fitran asks.
"This is a space that rejects everything," Beelzebub replies. "The last place before meaning is formed. Before words become words. Before love becomes a definition."
Fitran...
The soft gray wings on her back no longer move, and she feels a weight in her chest. "What is this?" Fitran asks.
"This is a space that rejects everything," Beelzebub replies. "The last place before meaning is formed. Before words become words. Before love becomes a definition." In this seemingly endless white space, the air feels empty, flowing gently like morning dew blown by the wind, creating a sensation that is both calming and haunting. There are no silhouettes or shadows appearing; only the presence of light softly filtered, enveloping every corner with a whiteness that makes the view feel as if it is boundless.
Fitran tries to ignite a small glyph from the tip of his finger. Nothing appears.