Memory of Heaven:Romance Written By Fate Through Beyond Infinity Time

When the beautiful night no longer feels right on the skin of humankind, a thunderous roar echoes, whispering the passions of the heart into the flames. Is that a sign of an approaching storm? The animals, filled with fear, hide hesitantly behind the ancient trees that serve as a resting place for the wingless insects. Suddenly, lightning strikes loudly, creating an atmosphere of tension among the animals; the law of the jungle is enforced amid the inevitable chaos.

Amidst the storm's roar, a young man stands transfixed in front of a woman who has just become a victim of a nobleman's crime in the middle of the street. He gazes at the woman lying there with an empty stare, tears flowing like arrows piercing his heart, witnessing the unuttered pain.

Indeed, the storm is raging. Many can only stand in silence, captivated by the sorrowful sight, wondering if the fear of the storm is just a step away from the greed of humanity. How cruel it is for them to treat a girl as if she were merely a doll. This country is indeed like a puppet, lacking rules or boundaries for its people's behavior, where every action seems free from moral sanctions.

"Hey hey... Tomorrow night we will play again, young master," said an old man with a mustache, his hoarse voice brimming with warmth. He was the coachman of the noble's carriage, his wrinkled face telling tales of a long life filled with experiences. The horse pulling the carriage, Homer, The Horses of Hera, was one of three legendary immortal horses, alongside Quintus Smyrnaeus The Horses of Amador and Quintus Smyrnaeus The Horses of Amato, radiating a magical aura.

Behind him, a young man was seen adjusting his sweat-drenched clothing, adding a dramatic flair to his appearance. He was a handsome and charismatic young nobleman with exceptional skills in everything he undertook. No woman could resist his charm. He was Lord Alfonzo Walter Caesar, a renowned warrior celebrated for his conquest of the castle of Pendomium. For his bravery, he was bestowed the title of Duke.

However, when he encountered the girl selling matchsticks, her brave rejection of his advances ignited Lord Alfonzo Walter Caesar's wrath. In a fit of madness, he committed unimaginable acts of cruelty, forcing the girl repeatedly as she desperately waved her hands, pleading for help from those around her. Ironically, the onlookers watching this heartbreaking scene merely whispered among themselves, as if trapped in their own world, ignoring her screams and panic. Even his peers remained indifferent; although they were all considered the dregs of society, they were like owls longing for the moon, unaware that the 'moon' they yearned for was someone struggling to find her own identity, just like that unfortunate girl.

"How about it, sir? Are you satisfied?" the coachman asked with a wide, insincere smile that seemed to reflect a false sense of satisfaction.

"I am somewhat satisfied, even though the smell of her body is revolting. I suppose I should have the maids prepare a bath filled with rose petals; I want to soak all night," Alfonzo replied in a cynical tone, envisioning the moment of indulging in luxury that sharply contrasted with the suffering of the girl.

Then they moved away from the spot. Before they climbed into the carriage, Alfonzo carefully noticed a young man handing a cloth to the girl. Witnessing this moment ignited his fury, and he pointed his index finger at his coachman, commanding in a thunderous voice to eliminate the boy. The coachman quickly obeyed, not out of respect, but from a gnawing fear in his heart, fully aware that his master was not someone to be debated with regarding what he considered his own.

"Hey... what are you doing?" the coachman shouted, raising his club high with malicious intent to strike the young man. In an instant, the girl stepped forward, trying to protect him. However, instead of retreating, he pushed her away, his eyes cold and filled with determination, as if ready to face the threat head-on.

Slash...!

With a swift movement, the boy swung his knife, successfully slicing through the coachman's right hand. Blood sprayed like water from an open tap, and the sight left him wide-eyed, grimacing amidst the torrential rain of blood. Panic-stricken screams shattered the silence, and frantic footsteps began to shake the ground as people ran in all directions, some tripping and being trampled in the unavoidable chaos. For them, this was their first experience witnessing the true color of blood—a stark contrast to the peace they claimed to cherish. Those present were, in truth, the most hypocritical individuals, professing a love for peace while fundamentally remaining cowards, afraid of the consequences of their actions.

The coachman ran frantically, pleading for help while clutching his blood-soaked hand. Blood continued to flow, seemingly unstoppable. Although he possessed the magical ability to halt the bleeding, for some reason, his magic seemed to be obstructed by an unseen force. The knife that had cut him was infused with dark magical energy. An adult human body contains about six liters of blood, and in just seconds, it could fully drain away.

"Young master, please help me," he choked out, tears streaming down his face, flowing as abundantly as the blood dripping from his wound.

However, Alfonzo seemed unwilling to assist his coachman. Coldly, he drew his sword. Realizing this, the coachman turned toward the young man, hoping for salvation. Unexpectedly, however, the young man was not a savior, but a threat that would end his life. Understanding this, the coachman's expression shifted suddenly, turning cheerful and carefree. In his resignation, he responded by thrusting his own knife directly into the coachman's heart.

As the coachman collapsed to the ground, the Young Man stared at Alfonzo with a cynical smile spreading across his face. The sight only fueled Alfonzo's anger further, especially when the Young Man pulled out a small bird hidden in his shirt pocket.

He then released the bird, which soared into the sky like an arrow. Proudly, he informed Alfonzo that he had liberated the little creature.

"You insolent brat," Alfonzo said in a hoarse tone, as if stifling his rage.

"A crow, even when bathed in rose water, will never change its feather color," the Young Man retorted with a cynical grin, seemingly trying to provoke Alfonzo's fury even more. 

"I will kill you," he said in a terrifying voice, charging at the Young Man until he fell, hitting the hard ground with the blunt end of the sword. "Killing you outright won't satisfy me. I will torture you slowly, draining every tear and drop of sweat from you before taking your life," he continued, placing both his feet on the young boy's palm that was trapped.

"Huh... I am a masochist. There's no point in doing that," replied the Young Man, his tone calm despite being pinned down.

"You really know how to talk," Alfonzo said, kicking the Young Man in the face with great force. With a single kick, several of the Young Man's teeth were knocked out, and soon after, blood streamed from his mouth, mingling with his laughter that sounded so defiant.

"Even though you kicked my teeth out, it means nothing to me. In fact, I should thank you for it, as my teeth were already rotten from consuming too much candy. Besides, I'm only 12 years old and still in my growth phase. Just imagine if you were in my position right now; are you really sure your teeth would grow back?" said the young man calmly while swallowing the blood that flowed from his mouth.

"You insolent brat!" Alfonzo growled, then with all his might, he kicked the young man mercilessly.

Suddenly, the girl shouted, "STOP!!!" With the courage she had been hiding, she unleashed all her emotions at that moment.

"Oh!? You dare to defy me?" he asked with a threatening glare, as if trying to assert his dominance in front of the girl.

The girl looked down again, her body trembling uncontrollably. In her mind, the dark memories of being mistreated by Alfonzo invaded her peace. Every detail of that incident replayed in her mind, reminding her of the deep trauma that would take a long time to forget.

"Hehehehe... don't misunderstand me. I'm not here to help or defend anyone. The reason I pushed you earlier is that you are truly filthy. It's not just about your appearance, but also your body; the stench of this useless man still clings to you, and it disgusts me. That's why I feel reluctant to touch you. That's the reason I gave you this cloth to clean yourself. I have no reason to help you, yet for some reason, I feel compelled to do so," said the youth in a flat tone.

Blub... blub ... blub

Black bubbles began to emerge from the youth's body, producing a small, suspicious sound. Realizing this, Alfonzo immediately jumped aside, his heart racing. He glanced at his horse, Hormes, who seemed trapped in the bubble of darkness. Sweat poured from his temples as confusion and fear swirled in his mind, wondering what he was truly facing. The youth stood tall, and from the shadows, a pair of glowing yellow eyes peered at Alfonzo.

Neigh.....! 

Before long, a sleek black horse burst forth, with a fiery mane and glowing horn reminiscent of a unicorn. The young man gently stroked the horse before mounting it, as if he had brought a creature from a dream to life.

"Could that be the same horse?" Alfonzo exclaimed breathlessly, enthusiastically pointing at the dazzling creature before him.

"Yes, this horse is indeed just like yours. It is one of the three immortal horses, Quintus Smyrnaeus, The Horses of Poseidon, legendary creatures," he replied with pride.

Neigh.....!

"How did you come to possess it?" Alfonzo asked, his eyes filled with curiosity, as if he was convinced there was a mystery behind the horse's presence.

"Huh, that question is way too mainstream. I'm too lazy to answer it," Fitran said, calling to Quintus Smyrnaeus. "I had to sacrifice someone's life, as if I could control everything here," he added, his gaze sweeping over the anxious faces around him.

Hearing his words, panic spread among the crowd. Earlier, when the young man was powerless, they had watched him with eager faces, thirsting for entertainment. Now, instead of laughter and cheers, only panic enveloped the atmosphere.

"Eupheus, " Fitran uttered, his voice low yet resonant, as if signaling the onset of an impending void.

The horse cast a thick, black shadow that swiftly chased after everyone around it. When the shadow touched someone, they would become trapped, powerless, gradually being sucked into darkness that devoured all light and hope.

Alfonzo felt his heart race with panic as he witnessed people ensnared by the darkness. A desperate urge to flee crossed his mind, but his feet felt glued to the ground. Amid the chaos, his gaze fell upon a girl standing there; an opportunity sparked in his mind. He quickly dashed forward, placing his sword to her throat, sensing the chilling tension between life and death.

Meanwhile, Quintus Smyrnaeus succeeded in engulfing everyone around him, enveloping them in a terrifying dark shadow.

"Active ... Odin."

The young man underwent a striking transformation as his clothes morphed into shimmering black armor, resembling that of a dark knight, making him appear formidable. His horse was equally impressive, pitch black with glowing red eyes that reflected Quintus Smyrnaeus's power.

Neigh.....!

The loud sound from the horse echoed, as if heralding the approach of a dark power drawing nearer, its heavy footsteps full of threat.

"If you come closer, I will kill him," Alfonzo threatened, his voice hoarse, his eyes blazing with anger.

"Hmph... you have no right to decide here," replied the young man, his voice calm yet firm, his gaze fixed on the endangered girl, as if he could see everything unspoken.

The girl nodded slowly, conveying understanding and courage despite her fear.

"Moon Slash," the young man declared, his voice resonating as if summoning an unseen power, enveloping them in a magical aura that felt electrifying.

Flash ....!

"Wait a minute," Alfonzo said, releasing her before quickly pulling back. His gaze was fixed on the gaping hole in the girl's abdomen. Suddenly, she collapsed onto the ground, her face paling. In a state of panic, Alfonzo realized that his own abdomen was also injured; everything inside had vanished, leaving behind only emptiness. A wave of fear washed over him as he noticed the Young Man standing behind him, staring with eyes full of mystery.

Neigh.....!

Alfonzo gaped in astonishment, as if unable to believe what had just occurred. Then, he too fell, his breath stopping instantly.

Before long, the Young Man dismounted from his magnificent horse. The steed, with its shimmering coat, seemed as though it belonged to a fairy tale.

"Release," he said in a calm and authoritative voice.

In an instant, the horse vanished in a flash of light, leaving only its imprints on the damp earth.

With firm steps, the young man approached the girl who had fallen. Behind her small frame, there was a striking aura of strength. He bowed his head, displaying a humble demeanor.

"Wh...what...is...your...name?" the girl asked in a trembling voice, confusion evident in her eyes.

The young man hesitated to respond, his heart surging with deep anger. Questions raced through his mind: why should he do this?

However, he suppressed his emotions and replied, trying to act as if he were a man, even though the sweet aroma of his mother's milk still lingered on his body, marking his youth.

"My name is Fitran."

"My ... name ... is ... Ro ... se ... Ale ... xa," she uttered in a barely audible voice, gasping as if each word strained through her weakening throat. A profound sadness enveloped her; had her years matched Fitran's, she would have undoubtedly been captivated by this youth's charm, even if it relegated her to the role of a mere servant. Her love flowed with deep regret, like morning dew evaporating at the touch of sunlight.

Realizing that her departure was imminent, Fitran leaned closer, pressing his ear against the girl's lips. In the stillness, he heard her final whisper, laden with meaning, just before she exhaled her last breath. Without the need to close her eyes, they were already shut, like a wilting flower no longer kissed by the sun; she left this world with a gentle smile etched upon her face.

"Portal ... Gate of Emperium," Fitran proclaimed, his voice resonating as if calling upon the magical forces enveloping him.

Then, the girl's body gracefully vanished, as if being drawn by an invisible magical force. The Gate of Emperium, an advanced form of teleportation magic, was intended to transport souls who had passed away to Charderal, an ancient burial site filled with a mystical aura. There resided Marina, the gentle spirit known as Marina Charderal, who lovingly tended to the burial of the bodies sent to her.

Soon, Fitran grabbed a bag and quickly left the location. He disregarded Alfonzo's body beside him, aware that in a matter of minutes, a group of nobles would arrive at the scene. Cautiously, he ensured that no witnesses observed his swift actions. In an instant, his body shot forward like lightning, running at an incredible speed, nearly reaching 5 mach, leaving everything behind.