Chapter 622: The Farther the Better

The magic on the blade gathered again, this time faster than before; the black‑red light surged from the hilt to the tip, coalescing at the tip into a dazzling light sphere that grew brighter and brighter, bright enough that Ilya had to squint.

Saber slammed the light sphere at Berserker's back.

The sword struck Berserker's back, and the sound of metal shattering was sharper than any before, like someone hammering a massive bell, its toll echoing through the ruins for a long, long time.

Berserker's body lurched downward, its knee buckling as it nearly fell to its knees; the spot on its back where Saber struck erupted in a burst of Lapis Flame, the flames spewing from the cracked armor seams like blood from a wound, flowing down the armor's grain, dripping onto the ground and scorching it into a series of small, smoke‑rising pits.

But it did not fall.

The Lapis Flames gushed from the wound on its back like an enraged swarm of bees, crazily lashing at Saber's great sword, climbing up the blade in an attempt to dye the black sword Lapis‑colored as well.

Saber gave it no chance.

She drew her sword and stepped back quickly; the Light Sword brushed her chest, shaving off a small piece of the black lacquer on her breastplate, revealing silver‑white metal beneath that glimmered faintly in the dim light.

But the great sword in her hand did not cease because of the retreat.

The black‑red Light Pillar erupted from the tip, thicker than before, like a black lightning bolt shooting from the ground to the sky, striking Berserker hard.

Berserker was propelled backward by the pillar, tearing through a heap of rubble before crashing into a higher pile of ruins farther away.

The ruins collapsed halfway, the stones rolling down from the top and burying the Lapis‑colored figure inside.

Saber did not stop.

When she landed, she pushed off the ground and launched herself forward; she moved so fast that Ilya only saw a black blur sweep over the rubble, and in the blink of an eye she was standing before the ruins that had buried Berserker.

She raised the sword, the magic in the great blade surging again; the black‑red Light Pillar spewing from the tip was thicker than ever before, resembling a pillar that could support heaven and earth under the gloomy sky.

She lifted that pillar over her head and swept it sideways.

As the Light Pillar swept across the ruins, it engulfed all the broken stones and columns, shattering them and hurling the debris farther away.

The scene resembled a giant using a massive broom to sweep the ground—each inch the pillar passed over was stripped of a layer, revealing deeper soil and finer stones beneath.

And Ilya crouched behind the wall, daring not to breathe.

Her legs trembled, her hands trembled, the ruby in her embrace clenched tightly, the staff's shaft bending into an arc in her palm as if echoing her fear.

She stared at the figure standing among the ruins in the distance, her mind a blank.

When did Saber become this strong?

She remembered Saber being strong; from their first meeting she knew she was powerful, but that strength had limits, a visible ceiling.

Now this Saber—she treats her Noble Phantasm as a Normal Attack, swings a Magic Cannon like a sword, and when struck head‑on by attacks of that caliber she doesn't even stagger; the magic pours from an endless spring, flooding the sword as if money were free.

Is this really Saber?

Or perhaps she has always been this strong, merely lacking the chance to show it before?

Ilya's gaze fell on the still‑burning Lapis Flame on Berserker, the flames seeping from the Mecha's cracks, slowly coursing over the damaged armor and turning the dark‑purple metal into an indefinable green‑black hue.

She had seen that color, that flame before.

On that Giant Fox, the flame's color was exactly the same.

Is it a coincidence?

Or is there some connection between the two?

Ilya's mind couldn't keep up; she lowered her head, bringing her face close to the ruby in her arms.

"Ruby..."

Her voice was pressed down low, almost just her lips moving, "Saber… how did she become so strong? And the flame on that Berserker, is it the same as the one on the Giant Fox before?"

The ruby fell silent for a long time, long enough that Ilya thought it had fallen asleep again.

"Uncertain..."

The voice was halting, with a rustling hiss, "But... it's very possible... these two things... aren't the same as what's outside..."

Ilya waited for a long while, realizing the ruby had no intention of continuing.

"And then?" she whispered.

"Then... nothing..."

The ruby's voice grew weaker, the faint glow on the staff dimming, "That's all I know..."

Ilya opened her mouth to ask more, but seeing its breath‑less state, she swallowed the words again.

She lifted her head and glanced again at the distant ruins through the brick gap.

The two black and Lapis‑colored figures collided among the ruins.

The debris shattered by the shockwave continued to fall from all directions, piling around them into tiny mounds.

Regardless of why the two were fighting here, one thing Ilya knew clearly: the farther she was from this level of battle, the better.

The shockwave from either one's Noble Phantasm could blast her away, and even a stray Magic Cannon graze could end her life; hiding behind this wall was no different than standing on a railway watching a train rush toward you.

Ilya retreated inch by inch from behind the wall, placing each foot as lightly as possible on the spots she had just stood on, trying not to make a sound.

After stepping back a dozen or so paces, she made sure the brick gap no longer showed Saber or Berserker, then turned and walked away in another direction.

She didn't know where she was going, nor whether this damned place had an exit, but she knew she couldn't stay here any longer.

In the distance, the two glows collided again, and a deafening Boom— echoed through the ruins.

Ilya didn't look back, just quickened her steps, slipping deeper into the darkness.

———Girl on the Run———

Ilya didn't know how long she had walked, only that the Boom— behind her grew farther, fading from deafening to a muffled thunder echo, then to a faint background hum, until even that was swallowed by the inherent dead silence of the ruins.

The surrounding structures grew stranger—not the palatial towers she had seen before, but things she could not comprehend, like a tree sprouting from the ruins with a crooked trunk, its branches bearing not leaves but a series of extinguished lanterns.

And a building whose outer wall was covered with irregularly shattered mirrors; under deep‑blue light the fragments reflected countless images of Ilya, each distorted—some stretched thin and long, some flattened wide, some showing only half a face, the other half vanished into some broken piece of glass.

Ilya dared not look at the mirrors, kept her head down and hurried past, but no matter how far she went, the reflections kept the same distance—she sped as they sped, slowed as they slowed, as if pulled by something.