Chapter 619: Hold On Tight

She quietly shifted her position, only to find that no matter where she moved, the whole horse's back was hard, the bulging muscles taut beneath the horse's skin, each piece as hard as stone.

"Is this… a horse?"

Robin's voice sounded a bit airy, carrying a subtle tone that tried to stay polite but couldn't hold back.

A Xing didn't turn around, just nodded; the brim of her Top Hat lifted slightly with her movement, revealing a few strands of gray hair.

She looped the Rein around her hand, lowered her head, leaned close to the horse's ear, moved her lips, and said three words.

The three words were so light that Robin barely caught them, but when the wind carried them into her ears, she was stunned.

"Mysterious Star Call!!!!!!"

A Xing repeated it, her voice not loud, but this time much clearer.

The tone was flat, as if introducing an old friend she had known for a long time.

Robin froze for a moment, then her mind raced.

Mysterious Star Call?

Is that the horse's name?

She lowered her head to look at the massive pink, muscle‑filled bulk beneath her hips, recalled its blank stare, twitched the corner of her mouth, and in a tone she herself wasn't sure of said, "Um… it's a good name."

The Pink Horse suddenly let out a cry.

"Mi—!!!"

The sound was long and resonant, echoing through the ruins for several rounds, shaking the surrounding rubble so that a few stones slid down.

Robin was startled by the sudden cry, leaned back, nearly falling off the horse's back, and hurriedly grabbed A Xing's clothing to steady herself.

A Xing's shoulder shifted slightly.

She seemed pleased with the comment; although Robin couldn't see her face, she could feel the person seated ahead straighten her back a bit, and even the hand pressing the hat brim relaxed slightly.

"Hold on tight."

A Xing's voice came from ahead, still in that flat, uninflected tone, but the moment the words left her mouth, Robin felt the Pink Horse beneath her tense its body violently, the tendon masses larger than a human head bulging like springs charged with power.

She instinctively clutched A Xing's waist, her fingers gripping the fabric at her side.

"What—?"

Before the words finished, the Pink Horse's hind hoof struck the ground hard!

"Bang—!!!"

The sound was like explosives detonating beside her ear; Robin felt her whole body hurled backward by a massive force, and if she hadn't clung tightly to A Xing's clothing, it would have flung her away.

Wind poured in from all directions, into her eyes, into her nose, into her mouth that was open but not yet closed, blocking all the words she was about to speak.

She could only shut her eyes, bury her face against A Xing's back, and listen to the whistling wind and the dull thud of the Pink Horse's hooves on the ground.

The sound came in repeated beats, each like a drum, or something hammering the ground.

Robin forced her eyes open a sliver, saw the Pink Horse's front hoof strike the ground, the asphalt beneath cracking a huge pit, shards of stone spraying, some fragments grazing her hair and stirring a cool gust.

Then it bounced up again, like a cannonball fired from a barrel, carrying the two of them toward the next intersection; when it landed there was another huge bang and another big pit.

Robin pressed her face back onto A Xing's back, her fingers gripping even tighter.

She didn't know her current speed; she only felt the wind cutting her face like a blade, the buildings on either side rushing backward, turning into blurred silhouettes of red, blue, gray, all mixing together like a tipped‑over palette of paint.

The Pink Horse weaved through the ruins, leaping over collapsed structures, darting through low bridge arches, hopping from one roof to another, each jump making Robin's heart rise to her throat.

She heard A Xing's voice carried by the wind ahead, intermittent.

"Direction."

Robin forced herself to lift her head, squinting to make out the surroundings.

The Nihong tubes left long light trails before her eyes, red and blue lights interweaving, dazzling her, yet she still recognized the street ahead.

"Ahead! Turn right!"

A Xing said nothing, but the Pink Horse had already shifted direction; Robin didn't even feel the turn, only a sudden tilt of her body, then the street appeared from the side as if someone had yanked it into view.

The Pink Horse surged into the narrower street, the buildings on either side drawing closer, close enough that Robin could reach out and touch the crooked signs.

The reversed characters whizzed past her vision, none legible, only the twisted strokes' outlines flickering in the red light.

A Xing suddenly tightened the Rein.

The Pink Horse's front hoof shot up, its body nearly standing upright; Robin was thrown backward by the sudden move, almost letting go, and she clutched A Xing's clothing, her nails digging into her palm through the fabric.

The horse's front hoof kicked twice in the air, then slammed back onto the asphalt, leaving two deep hoofprints before stopping.

Robin gasped heavily, her heart pounding as if it would burst out of her throat.

She lifted her head, following A Xing's line of sight forward—ahead was a bend, turning which led to a wider street, Ilya should be in that direction.

She was about to speak when A Xing suddenly tilted her head.

That movement was tiny, almost unnoticed by Robin, but A Xing's body tensed at that instant, and Robin could feel the muscles in her back stiffen.

And then she saw.

On the bend, a black silhouette emerged from the corner.

It was a woman clad in jet‑black armor, gripping a large black‑red sword, the blade's patterns flowing slowly in the dim red light like congealed blood.

She wore a black mask over her face, covering her eyes, revealing only the lower half—pale chin, tightly pressed lips, and silver hair hanging at her shoulders, faintly glowing in the red light.

She stood in the middle of the street, facing their direction, the sword hanging at her side, its tip touching the ground.

A Xing's hand had already risen, the deep‑red Flame Gun coalescing in her palm in an instant, the flames on its barrel dancing in the darkness, casting a flickering light on her face.

But the black silhouette was faster than she.

She suddenly raised the great sword in her hand, its tip pointing toward A Xing, then—a ridiculously thick black‑red magical energy surged from the blade's tip, like a lightning bolt cleaving the night sky, roaring deafeningly, hurtling straight toward them!

The speed was such that Robin couldn't even manage to utter a cry.

But A Xing didn't move.

She simply sat on the horse's back, watching the black‑red Light Pillar draw nearer, its dazzling glow reflected in her gray eyes.

Then—