Under the cover of night, the rails of the Star Dome Railway seem to disappear into the endless void,
and the name “Sunday”, like a low sigh, wanders between light and shadow.
His growth,
is not nourished in prosperity and warmth,
but condensed in the coldness of fragmentation,
and reborn in the fragments of silence.
The breakthrough material is his skeleton, cold and sharp:
Fifteen pieces of thought fragments, like broken pieces of consciousness,
Fifteen pieces of impression crystals, with dazzling light,
Fifteen pieces of desire broken mirrors, cutting vague desires,
Sixty-five pieces of illusions of a chord, intermittent and complex,
This is a stubborn appeal for order in the fragmentation.
Three hundred and eight thousand credit points, coldly calculating every fission.
The material of his traces is his blood, flowing in the darkness:
Twelve pieces of the same wish are echoes in the dead silence,
Forty-one pieces of thoughts extend into the texture of the night,
Fifty-eight pieces of desire mirrors reflect the phantoms on the edge of the abyss,
Fifty-six pieces of impression crystals, sharp as knives, cut off the warmth,
Eighteen cloud notes, sixty-nine air bars,
Intertwined into a dark melody, accompanying his lonely walk,
Eight pieces of fate are like silent footprints,
Leaving a cold mark in the boundless void.
Three million credit points are the price paid for silence.
Skill improvement is a ritual,
Fragments of thoughts are entangled with cloud notes,
Air bars and music from the sky are superimposed on each other,
The same wish and the footprints of fate weave his power in silence,
Every upgrade is a reshaping after self-disintegration.
The light cone “flies back to the earth”,
is the struggle to land after being broken,
four cloud notes, twelve air bars,
fifteen celestial music, twenty fragments of thoughts,
twenty impression crystals, fourteen broken mirrors of desire,
plus thirty-eight thousand five hundred credits,
this is his power to find reality in nothingness,
to embrace the broken self in the cold.
Treabar is his silent shelter,
in this deep and cold world,
building a bridge to light for pioneers,
letting those cold and hard materials,
transform into the veins of life in transactions.
Sunday,
is no longer a name of nothingness,
but a broken and reconstructed existence,
on the Star Dome Railway,
moving forward with a unique attitude.