Chapter 498 Lifeless Surface
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.