Chapter 642: The Song!

When that melody floated out of her mouth, everyone present was momentarily stunned.

The voice was not loud, but like a beam of light shining from a very deep place, piercing the grayish sky overhead.

The Robin sang a song that no one present had ever heard.

To be precise, it was a song that no one in this world had ever heard.

It was a melody from Pinokanni, from that place where everyone dreamed beautiful dreams.

The song was titled "Make a Heart Free of Sorrow".

Musical notes materialized around her.

One by one they rose from the air surrounding her—some drifted above her head, some twirled around her fingertips, some slid down her hair strands, spun in mid‑air, then shattered into smaller specks of light.

Those specks did not dissipate; they merged into a river.

Blue‑white streams of light surged from her body, as if someone had chiseled a spring at her feet; the light spread from her toes outward, covering the ground, flowing over the rubble, and the grayish hue wherever it passed was washed away like water, revealing the original colors beneath.

The light continued to expand, washing over Saber's ankle, over Weiba Daye's Mecha, over the stone pillar where Ilya crouched, over the farther half‑collapsed walls and tilted columns, cloaking the whole ruin in a veil‑like glow.

Saber's grip on the sword loosened.

Like a string pulled to its limit suddenly released, the whole sword felt a few degrees lighter in Saber's hand.

Saber lowered her head to glance at her own hand, then looked up toward the Robin, her eyes now holding something extra.

The Lapis Flame on Weiba Daye's Mecha surged upward by a segment.

The expression on its small head shifted from fatigue to an indescribable satisfaction that was part comfort, part enjoyment, like a person soaking in perfectly warm water, every pore of the body opening.

"This singing…"

Its voice was a little lower than before, the grumbling edge suppressed by something, "Interesting."

Ilya crouched behind the stone pillar, watching the Robin's profile, watching the notes that floated out from her, watching the blue‑white light flowing through the ruin, and blinked.

She had once heard the Robin sing in a park.

At that time Ilya thought it was pleasant, but only pleasant—like eating a candy, sweet for a moment then gone.

Now it was different.

Now the Robin stood amid a grayish ruin, no sunlight overhead, no grass beneath its feet, surrounded by broken stones and shattered tiles, with Saber fighting a giant in the distance and Weiba Daye cursing.

It just stood there, eyes closed, singing, and the light from its body surged outward, illuminating the entire ruin.

What that feeling was like…

Ilya thought for a moment and felt it was like a person who had stayed in a pitch‑black room for so long that they thought they had forgotten what light looked like, then someone opened the window, light poured in from outside, drenching them from head to toe, and when they came to, they realized they were no longer cold.

The Robin ignored everyone's reactions.

Its eyes remained closed, brows slightly furrowed, lips moving continuously, and the melody kept flowing endlessly from its mouth.

The notes were no longer satisfied merely drifting around it; they began to fly outward like a swarm of startled fireflies, landing on the giant's body, sticking to the yellow sheets of paper, where the paper turned black where the notes adhered, as if burned.

The giant's movements slowed.

Its fist halted midway in the air; the paper pieces inside its body, affected by the notes, began to repel each other—one sheet wanted to go left, another right—no longer united as before, each acting on its own.

Cracks began to appear in the body made of countless paper sheets.

Saber saw an opening.

She raised the black greatsword overhead; the scarlet patterns on the blade blazed dazzlingly under the influence of the notes, the whole sword radiating red light.

Weiba Daye also moved at the same time.

The two coordinated as if they had rehearsed many times—one drawing attention up front, the other delivering damage from behind; Saber slashed down from above, Weiba Daye struck upward from below, and the giant's body wavered under the twin assaults, the cracks deepening, more paper ash spilling from the fissures, like a sandcastle collapsing.

The Robin felt its inner magical energy churn.

It was a marvelous sensation, as if something ran through its veins, from the heart to the fingertips, from the throat into the melodies drifting from its mouth.

Its voice involuntarily rose a pitch, and the notes grew stronger with the voice, like a drizzle turning into a downpour.

Saber stood on the ground, the black greatsword held aloft, its tip pointing to the sky.

She prepared to swing that sword.

That swing would be the strongest she had ever wielded in this battle; she would pour all her power into the blade and cleave the giant's neck, slicing the round head off its body, and then—

"Boom—!!!"

Something fell from the sky.

The sound was as loud as a bomb dropped from above, shaking the entire ruin; the Robin's song was cut off in its throat.

Saber snapped her eyes open; the giant's body exploded in that instant, as if struck head‑on by a high‑speed train.

The giant's chest was pierced by the falling object, leaving a huge hole; the edge of the hole kept spewing shredded paper, which floated in the air for a while before falling lifelessly to the ground, covering it.

The paper pieces did not reassemble.

They drifted in the air, rotating, slowly descending like a yellow snow, covering the ground in a thick layer.

Saber stood on the cleared ground left after the giant vanished, the black greatsword still raised overhead, its tip pointing to the sky, but she no longer knew whether to swing it.

Her eyes stared at the object now lying in a large pit at the ruin's center, her brows furrowed into a deep "river‑bend" shape.

Weiba Daye's Mecha stood beside her; the flame on its small head shrank back to normal size, and the expression on its face changed from battle‑ready to an indescribable confusion.

It looked down at the pit and said, "What the heck?"

Ilya rose from behind the stone pillar, the Robin following her, and both stuck half their heads out to look toward the pit.

The pit was not large but very deep; the edge's broken stones kept sliding down, making a splashing sound.

In the pit's center swirled a hazy dust that had not dispersed, within which a very small outline, several heads smaller than a normal person, could be vaguely seen.

The dust slowly dispersed.

At the bottom of the pit lay a figure.

No, not a figure.

The thing was about the size of Ilya's knee, chibi‑style, round, short‑limbed, like a plush doll from a shop window that had been enchanted to come alive.

It wore a set of clothes whose original color could no longer be seen, orange hair a mess like a chicken coop, face covered in ash, mouth slightly open, eyes closed, the whole body lying in the shape of the character "big" at the bottom of the pit, looking as if it had fallen from a great height and been knocked unconscious.

Then it opened its eyes.

Those eyes swept around the bottom of the pit, scanning the surrounding rubble and broken tiles, the pieces of paper still fluttering, the few people standing at the pit's edge, and then settled on Saber.

It sat up from the pit.

The movement was so crisp and decisive that it didn't resemble someone who had just fallen from the sky, but rather someone who had slept enough, sitting up from a bed, stretching lazily, yawning, then patting the ash off its body.

It stood up, its height still only reaching Ilya's knees; standing in that pit, only half its head could be seen, like a person standing at the bottom of a well, looking up at the world above the well's mouth.

"Damn."