Memory of Heaven:Romance Written By Fate Through Beyond Infinity Time-Chapter 578 Fractured Cities The Womb of Reality Opened

The Surface of the Philistines.

Ancient stones that have been silent since the Babylonian era began to rhythmically tremble. Small cracks appeared in the ancient walls, but from the gaps, it was not dust that fell—rather, a blue light like veins.

As if this city... was beginning to breathe.

Some thunderous sounds echoed, a deep bass that seemed to shake the heart of every soul that heard it. A beam of light pierced the shadows, illuminating the long-abandoned streets, like a dream awakening from a long night of darkness. In every corner, there was a soft blue glow enveloping the stone walls, revealing ancient carvings that seemed alive, twinkling as if dancing to the rhythm of the city's revival.

The once-silent stones now whispered softly, providing a song that could only be understood by those sensitive to nature's gifts. The aroma of wet earth wafted, refreshing and awakening old memories of a life that once flourished here—a delicate symphony that revived memories of a glorious past.

Small cracks appeared in the ancient walls, but from the gaps, it was not dust that fell—rather, a blue light like veins.

As if this city... was beginning to breathe.

Beelzebub held Elyra, who was still asleep. Fitran stood on the altar above, gazing at the horizon.

"This city... is opening something that even the founders of Babylon feared to touch."

From the fine tears that flowed, the earlier light created a soft rainbow dancing in the air, painting the sky with colors of will and hope. As if every note of resonance could awaken the remaining spirits, calling back the souls that once fought for this city. A gentle breeze swept across the faces of all present, giving a soft touch full of affection.

The spiral glyph Aperta Lux Spiralis on Elyra's shoulder now expanded toward her body—creating a second faint spiral line on her ribcage.

Spiral Virelya.

And from the interaction of the two, a resonance across realities was created. The Philistines, which had long been locked between worlds, now began to show cracks.

As if it were an ancient womb beginning to give birth again—not to humans, but to a new path for existence.

"Utero Veritatis"

The Womb of Uncreated Truth This mantra was not created by anyone, but written by the will of meaning that wished to be born.

From the gap in the sky, lines of unfinished writing appeared—floating letters, radiating, then diving toward the ruins.

Every place in the city began to tremble with a sound that did not originate from this world.

In the vibrations, the air was filled with the scent of wet earth, and the aroma of new life began to fill the empty spaces. Every corner of the city felt it, its soul awakening from a long sleep, responding to the call of the mystical voice. As if the ruins that were once downcast were now lifted by various mysterious energies, reviving memories of forgotten glory.

The city appeared to change; the cracked walls suddenly repaired by a soft shining light, as if revealing old stories bound in the strands of time. The sound of trickling water began to be heard from underground, following the rhythm of the heartbeat of the newly born city. Trees that seemed dead began to show new buds, grasping the morning dew dripping from the lush leaves.

People who were once imprisoned by fear and despair dared to step outside. With every step, they felt a strong vibration of life, calling back the lost souls. From their faces, hope was read—smiles appeared, as if welcoming a new day after a long night.

And in that moment, a call jolted—a call from the depths of the heart of the long-forgotten city. This city now stood as a symbol of rebirth, as if shouting to the sky, "Look, we are still here! We can still breathe, love, and live!"

The Hollow Library. The shelves that were once empty now began to write books on their own. The books had no authors. Yet their content was: "The Unborn Child, and the World That Does Not Want to Accept It."

In the chilling silence, the aroma of paper and ink full of hope flowed. Each sheet of the book seemed to whisper to unseen visitors, promising lessons that were left behind. In the dim light, shadows of past and future knowledge danced until inscribed on the endless pages.

Bath of Names. A stone pool in the middle of the ancient plaza now shone. Small bubbles appeared, each carrying names that had once been rejected by the world of magic.

The clear water of the pool flowed gently, cradling the moonlight peeking through the ruins, creating reflections that danced on the surface. Each name that appeared gave a subtle vibration, as if the world of magic itself remembered and longed for them. In the stillness of the night, hope for rebirth was stored in every bubble that glided.

Yet one name did not burst. That name: Virelya. She had not yet been born, but was already beginning to be written. With a tone full of love, the soft voice from the pool seemed to sing a lullaby, inviting the sleeping spirit to rise and explore a world that had not fully accepted her presence.

The cracks became pathways of light, flowing like blood from the ancient womb. Each crack in the city walls emitted a whisper that shook the heart, awakening memories of something lost and now returning. The atmosphere was filled with hope, while the ancient stones that heard the new story trembled with longing for this rebirth.

The Philistines, in its deepest meaning, gave birth to itself again. In the journey of searching for identity, this city grasped every trace, creating a symphony of sound, aroma, and light that celebrated all that had been lost. As if reviving the souls that once existed, giving them a place in a new history.

In the center of the city, a cracked dome revealed a structure resembling a giant womb made of Babylonian glyphs and unfinished spirals. The sound of the cracks echoed, like whispers from the past trapped between layers of time, inviting curiosity and fear. The damp aroma of wet earth and the spirit of new birth filled the air, creating a magical atmosphere that vibrated the soul.

And from within it... a voice emerged:

"I am the city that was not allowed to give birth..." "But you have forced my cries out of my womb." "Now... I will not bear silence any longer."

The boundary between the real world and the dimension where Elyra was formed became thin. The heartbeat of the city sounded softly, marking a vibrating life; as if longing for a birth that had been awaited. Creatures from the old factions—Void, Avalon, Chronos—began to see the Philistines as an open door.

And they came, not to attack, but to rewrite their meanings through this city. With every step, they left trails of light on the dusty streets, as if carving history anew, inviting shadows of the past to dance in the dimness.

For if Elyra is born in this city... then all concepts can be reborn through the same cracks, spiraling like an endless spiral toward the Dawn. The noise of nature began to blend with the cries of humanity, creating a truly mesmerizing harmony.

She knew, this city is a womb. But this womb does not know how to choose. In the darkness of the dome, light began to seep, illuminating the cracked walls, displaying paintings full of hope and doubt. It would accept anyone... good or bad.

Thus, Fitran drew his sword. But not to attack, rather to guard the boundary between the spiral and destruction. The flow of responsibility tightened his hand, as if the sword were an extension of his resolve to protect the weak amidst the coming storm.

"You will remain open, Philistines..." "But I will be the boundary between birth and lies."

Beelzebub gazed at Elyra and murmured:

"You have changed this city..." "You cannot walk yet... but the world is already following behind you."

Elyra chuckled softly. And in the sky of the Philistines—a voice of another baby was heard, not from Elyra's body, but from Virelya...

As Elyra's laughter echoed, the air around began to tremble, as if welcoming a new presence. The gentle aroma of wildflowers that had previously vanished now slowly filled the space, and the rustle of the wind carried whispers of unspoken poems. The dim lights on the streets that were once quiet began to shine softly, creating a warmth that penetrated the cold aura that disturbed.

"...that has been given a place before being given a body."

At the end of the street, the old buildings slowly began to reshape their silhouettes. The cracked walls began to bloom, emitting bright colors that radiated life. The broken glass scattered on the ground slipped from view, covered by fresh green grass growing between the cracks of the road. All of this, in profound silence, formed a symphony of rebirth—the village evolved, like a woman discovering her strength after being trapped in sorrow for so long.

And amidst all this, the resonance of the baby's voice filled the space, penetrating the soul of every listener, as if the city itself was inhaling its life back with every cry of the newborn. A soft and soothing voice, full of hope and possibility, depicted the promise that every end is a new beginning. In this symbolic moment, Elyra not only witnessed the city's awakening but also felt it within herself; the vibrations flowing from the earth to her soul.

The Philistines, once dark and dim, now transformed into a canvas of life. Fallen trees slowly grew back, with new leaves dancing in the soft moonlight. Water flowed from the gutters that were once dry, bringing the gentle sound of flowing water that comforted and calmed, as if singing a lullaby for the souls crossing the streets—each drop is hope, each movement is a new strength being born.