Chapter 637: Don't Speak

Saber did not take part in this conversation.

Her attention has not been on Ilya since just now.

She stood there, facing the wall that Berserker had smashed through; the wall now had almost nothing left, only a short, squat wall base and a floor of broken wood. Beyond the wall base was another room that had been smashed open, and beyond that room was a courtyard, all hazy and indistinct.

The Curry Stick in her hand had, at some point, solidified; its tip pointed down, braced against the floor, and the crimson patterns along its blade slowly flowed in the dim light, a bit darker than when she fought Berserker earlier.

Ilya and Weiba Daye exchanged a few more words, essentially asking whether Weiba Daye could exit the Mecha. Weiba Daye said he could, but was too lazy to get out; the shell was quite useful, sturdier than his original body, though the head was a bit small and looked awkward.

Ilya asked what would happen to the Mecha's original owner; Weiba Daye snorted, saying only a Flame remained inside the shell, there was no owner, that Flame was of the same origin, and if it swallowed it, it would be its own.

Ilya still wanted to ask something, but Saber suddenly spoke up.

"Don't speak."

Ilya's mouth immediately closed, Weiba Daye's Flame flickered, his facial expression shifting from suppressed to alert, and the two of them swiftly turned toward the direction Saber was facing.

Saber stood there, the Curry Stick held horizontally at her side, its tip pointing toward the outside of the shattered wall; the dim light streamed through the breach, whitening half of her face while the other half sank into shadow, obscuring her expression.

Her brows were furrowed.

"There."

The voice was soft, but each word was enunciated clearly, "There's something."

Ilya followed the tip of her blade with her gaze, seeing nothing.

Beyond that wall was another room that had been smashed open; its furniture lay scattered on the floor, and several cracks marred the ceiling, with ash falling down through them.

Beyond that was a courtyard, its ground paved with bluestone slabs, the gaps sprouting with withered yellow grass that swayed in the wind; farther out lay more ruins, all hazy and indistinct.

There was no sound, no light, no silhouettes, not even the wandering ghostly flames that had been drifting earlier, their whereabouts unknown.

"Something?"

Ilya's voice involuntarily lowered, as if whispering to the Ruby, "What is it? How come I see nothing?"

The Ruby flashed briefly in her palm, the faint light on its staff flickering several times as if straining to detect something, then dimming.

"I also... didn't sense..."

Its voice was halting, but the force behind it was much stronger than before, "But... Miss Saber's words... should be correct..."

Weiba Daye's Mecha also turned, facing the direction Saber indicated; the small head protruding from its neck, eyes burning with teal Flame narrowed to slits, scanned the hazy ruins repeatedly.

"I also didn't see anything,"

Even though it said that, the Mecha's body tensed; the lapis-colored patterns on its chest armor flashed briefly, and its two mechanical arms lifted slightly.

Saber gave no explanation.

She simply raised the blade a bit higher, its tip shifting from horizontal at her side to pointing straight ahead; she transitioned from the relaxed posture she had just held to a combat-ready stance, knees slightly bent, weight lowered, her boot heels pressing down on the wooden floor, flattening the raised planks without a sound.

She stood there, facing the empty ruins, motionless.

Ilya felt completely uneasy because of her demeanor.

She took two steps toward Saber, then another two, stopping only when her shoulder was almost touching Saber's arm.

She stared at the hazy ruins for a long time, still seeing nothing, but Saber's look of facing a great foe didn't seem feigned; Ilya had seen Saber fight, and had never encountered anything that could make Saber show such an expression.

"Saber..."

Her voice was tiny, "Is there really something? How come I... can't feel anything..."

Saber didn't turn around, only tilted her head slightly.

"Yes."

She said, her voice light, "It's been there since just now."

Ilya's back went cold.

The Ruby shifted in her palm, the faint light on its staff flashing.

"Ilya..."

Its voice was halting, but steadier than before, "Don't be afraid... Miss Saber is here..."

Ilya nodded, saying nothing.

"Alright, alright, you wait here, I'll go take a look."

"It's just an empty clearing, what could be there?"

Saber's brows twitched, but she didn't stop him.

She merely shifted slightly, shielding Ilya behind her again; her gaze didn't follow Weiba Daye, but remained fixed on the ruins.

Ilya stuck half her head out from behind Saber, watching Weiba Daye's towering, imposing Mecha stride step by step toward the ruins.

The round, teal Flame‑burning little head protruded from the Mecha's neck, swaying gently with each step, like a lantern held in someone's hand while walking.

She suddenly felt a urge to laugh, but the smile was suppressed by the hazy ruins and the unseen things hidden within.

Weiba Daye walked to the edge of the clearing and stopped.

The little head turned from left to right, then right to left, its Flame‑lit eyes narrowed to slits, scanning the hazy ruins repeatedly.

It stared for a while, then the Mecha's body also pivoted, facing the more open side; its two mechanical arms hung at its sides, fingers slightly spread, as if ready to grasp something at any moment.

"There's nothing here either."

Weiba Daye, with a hint of impatience, said, "An empty clearing, not even a ghostly silhouette, you—"

He didn't finish his sentence.

A scrap of paper drifted down in front of him.

The paper wasn't large, about a palm smaller, yellow and thin, its edges unevenly cut, with some ragged bits.

It floated in the air like a leaf blown by wind, spiraling, passing before Weiba Daye's eyes, landing less than half a step in front of his toes, flipping over to face upward.

On it was drawn an expression.

A round face with two curved eyes and a curved mouth, the corners of the mouth lifted high, like a very happy little figure.

The strokes were neither thick nor thin, the ink slightly faded as if drawn years ago, yet the smile remained vivid, still curved, lifted, and joyous.

Weiba Daye froze for a moment.

That little head stretched forward from the Mecha's neck, the eyes born of the Flame stared at the paper on the ground, stared at the smiling face on that paper, stared at the curved corners of that smile; the whole flame froze in that instant, even the jumping patterns slowed down.

"Damn—!"

Its voice exploded from the Mecha's chest cavity, that voice loud and bright, shaking Ilya's eardrums painfully, "What the fuck thing!"