Chapter 641: Damn!

She decided to first figure out that she was still alive; the rest could wait.

Ilya held Robin in the air and flew for a while, dodging the drifting stray paper fragments, and found a relatively flat patch of ground to land on.

When her foot stepped on the broken stones, it creaked; she took a step forward, bringing Robin to the back of the crooked stone pillar.

Between the pillar and the wall a triangular space formed, not large but just enough for two people to crouch in; three sides were blocked, with only one side opening toward the clearing.

Ilya set Robin down, letting her sit against the wall, while she crouched beside her, sticking half her head out to look outside.

"Saber and Weiba Daye are still fighting,"

She whispered, "That big fellow has grown another ring since earlier; no idea when he'll finish fighting."

Robin followed her gaze outward, finally seeing the situation outside.

In the exact center of the clearing stood a massive creature, its whole body assembled from countless yellow paper pieces, its surface riddled with cracks and seams; the edges of the paper glowed a dull yellow in the dim light, like a tattered old book.

Its face was round, its two eyes curved arcs, its mouth another curved arc, the corners lifted high, bearing a grin that made anyone want to punch it.

At the giant's feet, two figures kept moving.

One was Saber.

Her silver‑gray hair stood out in the dim light, and her black armor was stained with paper ash, gray in places and black in others, but the Curry Stick in her hand remained sharp; each swing carved a deep slash into the giant's leg, from which shredded paper fluttered out like blood from a wound.

Yet those cuts healed quickly, as fresh paper pieces surged from all directions to fill the wounds, as if nothing had happened.

The other was Weiba Daye.

The dark‑purple Mecha darted in and out of the giant's toe gaps, agile despite its three‑meter‑plus iron mass; as it moved, it fired Lapis Flame beams at the giant, each beam detonating on the giant's body, creating holes whose edges still burned, the Lapis Flame spreading across the paper, emitting a charred smell.

But those holes also healed.

New paper pieces surged in, extinguishing the fire, filling the holes, and sealing the Mecha's hard‑won gaps tightly.

"Damn! When did that little crybaby paper man become so powerful!"

Weiba Daye's voice blasted out from the Mecha's chest cavity; even Robin, at that distance, could hear it clearly.

The Mecha crawled out of the giant's toe gap, leapt onto a nearby pile of broken stones; the Lapis Flame on its small head burned brighter than before, and its face twisted as if someone had twisted it.

It raised a hand, another beam shot out, this time aimed at the giant's knee; the beam struck precisely, blasting a basin‑sized hole, causing the giant's body to sway, kneel on one knee, the knee thudding heavily onto the ground.

Before Weiba Daye could rejoice, the giant stretched out a hand and slapped down.

"Bang—!"

The slap hit the ground, scattering broken stones and shards everywhere.

Weiba Daye's Mecha was slammed into the pit's bottom, its whole body buried in stones, only its round little head exposed; the flame on that head was nearly extinguished by the blow, flickering like a lamp running out of oil.

"Damn—!"

Weiba Daye's voice rose from the pit, as if shouting through a blanket, "You—can't you hit somewhere else! Always the face! This is the only face I've got!"

The Mecha's two mechanical arms emerged from the stones, bracing the ground and levering its whole body out of the pit.

Lapis Flames spouted anew from the patterns on its body, brighter than before, burning the paper ash on its armor into ash and scorching the stones lodged in the seams to a red glow.

It crawled out of the pit, standing at its edge, the flame on its little head now burning straight.

"Fine, you like hitting faces, huh? Today I'll let you have your fill!"

It said that, then the entire Mecha charged forward, faster than before, kicking up broken stones that sprayed everywhere; the Lapis Flames behind it left a long light tail, like a meteor soaring from the ground to the sky.

Saber, on the other side, saw Weiba Daye rush out and moved as well.

She circled from the giant's foot to its side, the Curry Stick held horizontally at her side; the crimson pattern on the blade flashed suddenly, then she leapt, driving her full weight and the sword's force into the giant's waist, cutting from waist to knee, opening a long, deep gash.

Paper pieces spilled from the wound, like torn flesh, shredded paper drifting in the air like a yellow snow.

The giant's body swayed, and the still‑airborne slap changed direction, slapping toward Saber.

Saber couldn't dodge in midair; she held the sword horizontally before her, bracing the slap.

"Bang—!"

She was blasted away, crashing into a distant half‑collapsed wall, punching a huge hole through it, and vanished into the dust behind the wall.

Ilya crouched behind the stone pillar, watching the scene, her fingers clutching a ruby until her knuckles whitened.

"Saber—!"

Before the dust behind the wall cleared, Saber stepped out from within.

Her silver‑gray hair was dusted with ash, her black armor covered in ash as well, but the sword remained in her hand, its crimson pattern still glowing; her steps stayed steady, not a hint of panic from being blasted away.

She lifted her head, looking at the giant; its golden eyes shone in the dim light, showing no fear.

Ilya exhaled, then turned her head toward Robin.

"Zhigengniao Jiejie,"

She whispered, "Can you sing?"

Robin blinked in surprise.

"Sing?"

"Well, doesn't your voice help people? The kind that makes them stronger, faster, more formidable,"

Ilya gestured with her hands, drawing a circle in front of her, as if sketching a symbol.

Robin looked at her, the lake‑green eyes showing hesitation.

It's not that she doesn't want to sing, but she doesn't know if she can in her current state.

But she glanced outside.

Saber stood on the clearing, the massive black sword held horizontally before her, its crimson pattern flowing slowly; her silver‑gray hair still gleamed in the dim light, but her armor bore several cracks, clearly visible in the gloom.

Weiba Daye's Mecha continued to weave through the giant's toe gaps, firing Lapis Flame beams one after another, though its movements were no longer as swift and the flames not as fierce; the expression on its little head shifted from stubbornness to an indefinable fatigue, as if tired or annoyed.

The paper‑made giant kept laughing, its curved mouth now higher than before, as if mocking that all their efforts were in vain.

Robin took a deep breath, swirling the air in its chest, then closed its eyes.

Its lips moved, but no sound came.

Then she opened her mouth.