Chapter 646: It Exploded!

Ilya felt like a cat being chased by two bratty kids.

Behind her, Saber was in hot pursuit; when the black sword skimmed past her heel, she didn't even have time to glance back, just kept charging forward.

Beside her, a round orange little thing bounced around, shouting words she couldn't understand nor wanted to, its voice sharp and bright like a mouse whose tail had been stepped on chattering in her ear.

She circled the sky several times, from this broken pillar to that one, from that crumbling wall to another, unable to shake off those two nuisances.

She cradled Robin in her arms, her brows knit into a knot.

Her blue curls fluttered wildly in the wind, smearing her face repeatedly; she brushed them aside, only for them to stick again, brushed again, stuck again, and finally she stopped trying, squinting as she thought.

She wondered if there was any way to break the stalemate: Saber was controlled, brute force wouldn't work, running wouldn't win, and that orange little thing clung like taffy, impossible to shake off.

Just as various thoughts whirled in her mind—

Boom—.

The whole world shuddered.

It exploded!

Not a metaphor; it really blew up.

The tremor came from every corner, as if someone had stuffed this ruin into a huge jar and shook it vigorously.

Debris sprang from the ground, cracks on the broken pillars spreading like spiderwebs, the shattered tiles clattering together, sounding like beans being fried.

Ilya's body wavered midair, nearly losing balance; she quickly pulled Robin tighter into her arms, the ruby in her palm flared brightly, pink light burst from the staff, suspending both her and Robin.

The sky changed.

The grayish sky was suddenly ripped open by several fissures.

From those gaps emerged not light but golden lightning, thick as tree trunks, thin as fingers, writhing and screeching across the dim canopy like snakes long caged finally finding an escape.

Then the rain began.

When the drops hit the ground, Ilya realized they weren't rain.

They were short guns emitting red light, each as long as an adult's forearm, their tips sharp enough to pierce steel, the barrels etched with unreadable patterns.

They poured down through those rifts, dense as a summer downpour, wave after wave, each wave crushing the next, striking the ground and exploding into clusters of black‑red light; debris and tiles were blasted outward, leaving countless pits on the earth, dense like rows of holes hammered by giant nails.

Ilya darted aside with Robin, a short gun skimming her hem, nailing a strip of her light silk to the ground.

She didn't look back; with a flick of her wrist, the ruby‑tipped staff shot a thin pink beam, slicing the pinned hem, then she lifted herself upward, soaring a bit higher.

Her violet hair whipped wildly in the wind, her crimson eyes scanning rapidly for cover, but the ruins below had been shredded by the short guns, smoking, burning, collapsing everywhere.

Gudazi stopped.

The orange little thing perched on a crooked stone pillar, craning its head at the falling objects, its eyes narrowed, the grin at its mouth unchanged, though the thrill of "chasing loli" had faded, replaced by a surprised expression.

A short gun fell toward it; without even looking, it swatted it away, sending the gun spinning several times in the air before it slammed onto distant ground, bursting into a flash of gold light.

"Yo,"

"This rain's coming down pretty hard."

Saber also stopped.

The black greatsword remained in her hand, its crimson patterns glaring under the golden lightning; a short gun landed less than half a step from her foot, exploding into gold light, the blast nudging her body slightly, yet her feet stayed planted, her gaze still fixed on the sky's fissures.

Weiba Daye was blown up, not by the golden short guns but by Saber.

When Saber halted, Weiba Daye's Mecha was crawling out of a pile of rubble.

While chasing Saber earlier, it missed a step, tripping over a broken pillar; the Mecha tumbled into the rubble, the Flame on its little head nearly extinguished, and before it could rise, Saber stood before it.

Saber kept looking upward, while the black greatsword spun once in her hand, tip pointing down, then a black‑red Light Pillar shot from the tip, striking the chest of Weiba Daye's Mecha dead‑on.

"Bang—!"

The Mecha was blasted away, flipping twice in the air, crashing onto distant ground, rolling three times before halting.

The Flame on its little head was reduced to a flicker, like a lamp nearly out of oil, flashing dimly, its face contorting from bewildered to Rage‑twisted.

"Damn—!"

"You hit me and you're already addicted, huh?! That orange one over there you ignore but you hit me?! I provoked you, didn't I?!"

Saber gave no reply.

She still didn't look at it; her eyes remained fixed on the golden lightning, brows slightly furrowed, the black greatsword spun again in her hand, tip pointing up, but no more Light Pillar was fired.

It wasn't that she didn't want to fire; her hand wouldn't obey. The previous swing wasn't hers—it was Gudazi who made her swing. Now Gudazi was watching the sky, her hand stopped, her body froze, she stood there like a forgotten statue in a plaza, motionless, only its golden eyes turning.

A Servant, forced by its Master to strike a Mecha it holds no grudge against, truly shameful.

Ilya didn't waste any time.

The golden short guns kept raining down, drawing Saber and Gudazi's attention, while Weiba Daye muttered and scrambled up from the ground—this was her only chance.

She cradled Robin, lowered her stance, flying close to the shadows of broken pillars and walls, each step landing in the gaps between the falling golden short guns.

She saw a building ahead.