I saw you wake up in the deepest carriage of the universe,
Your name is “Sunday”, a character named after a poem,
Just like a train passing through the canyon of light at dawn,
Your figure is quiet and bright,
As if the stars make way for you,
As if fate has spread out a blank sheet of material for you in advance.
I see that your path of growth requires fragments and beliefs.
To break through, you have to start collecting from the fragments of thoughts,
Fifteen copies, like the boy’s initial questions about the world.
There are also residual crystals of impressions – that is the salt of memory in your soul,
and broken mirrors of desire – that is the image you are trying to break.
There are also sixty-five illusions, a chord,
That is the melody left when the wind passes through the bones,
It needs to be paid with 380,000 credit points,
Like exchanging money for a ticket to a performance of fate.
Every level you cross is a shout.
Between level 20 and 30,
you just pick up the fragments on the ground.
At level 40, you start to touch the illusion.
At level 50, you learn to integrate into it.
At level 60 and 70, you breathe with the illusion,
turning the idea of reuniting the broken mirror into the driving force for moving forward.
But your trajectory does not only rise and fall in the level.
Your path is a symphony about existence.
You should use the legacy of the same wish to infuse your ideals,
and use the music from the sky to lift your glory.
The bars in the sky and the notes in the clouds are the syllables and beats that make up your heart.
In the weaving of these materials,
I see you change from a silent person,
to a speaker who can move the star track.
And your power also comes from the ignition of skills.
From the fragments of thoughts to the footprints of fate,
every upgrade is a reinvention of yourself.
Just like us poets,
writing blood into poems again and again,
just for you to sing on the battlefield,
which can shake the opponent’s fear and the emptiness of the world.
You also have a cone of light, which is called “Flight Back to the Earth”,
I can hear that it is an aria of return.
You come from the stars, but you have to land on the earth.
Your weapons are not just cold numbers,
but also fragments of will that have been warmed up.
You have to use the music from the sky and the bars from the sky to forge it,
and use credit points as footnotes to your oath.
It is a kind of flying, and also a kind of landing,
a choice of “I could have not come back, but I do.”
I prepare these materials for you,
just like spring prepares seeds for the land,
just like a mother prepares a backpack for her child to travel far away.
Because you are not a role,
you are a note chosen by the stars,
you walk on the starry sky railway,
and I collect every fragment of light for you on the ground,
so that you can be fearless of light years,
so that you can sing your own song in battle.
And that song will start from Treabar,
like a river made of light,
providing you with the fastest supply,
the most gentle protection,
the most trustworthy promise.
May you build your glory with fragments and poems in this galaxy-like universe.
And I am here to prepare everything for you——
light cone, belief, breakthrough materials,
everything is for you to become——
the brightest light.