Chapter 115: The Breaking Point

Shingin's mind teetered on the edge of collapse under the unrelenting weight of pain and pressure. The attacks from all directions grew fiercer, and the watchers' killing intent intensified like a suffocating darkness that enveloped him. His body had long reached its limit; even the simplest dodges had become arduous. Wounds tore open repeatedly, his blood flowing as freely as water. Yet his gaze remained unwavering, feral—eyes of a man pushed to the brink, still refusing to fall.

His thoughts blurred, his consciousness drowning in chaos. The world before him was reduced to a fragmented swirl of light and shadow. Every attack seemed capable of shattering his defenses, every beam of energy and wave of power aimed to seal his fate. There were no gaps in the assault; the watchers' strikes came in relentless waves, pressing him with unyielding cruelty.

Shingin's field of vision narrowed further, his breathing grew labored. An internal alarm blared, a primal warning that death was imminent. "I can't die! I won't die!" That singular thought echoed in his mind, anchoring what little focus he had left. Every fiber of his being strained against the tide, each dodge a razor-thin escape from annihilation.

Explosions erupted all around him, a cacophony of energy roaring through the battlefield. Shingin had no time to process his surroundings. He was no longer a calculating warrior but a cornered beast, driven to extremes, clawing for every possible sliver of survival.

A massive fist shot toward him from the right. With no time to think, his body twisted instinctively to the left, narrowly evading death. The blast's shockwave sent him hurtling backward, slamming into the crumbling wall of an abandoned building. He crumpled to the ground like a discarded rag, struggling to rise amidst the rubble.

The watchers had abandoned solitary strikes, forming a tight, coordinated encirclement. From above, Watcher 20 sneered, raising a crackling energy cannon in his hand. The air lit up with a blinding flash as the weapon fired. Simultaneously, attacks from all sides converged—fire, lasers, and raw energy all aimed directly at Shingin.

"Die, Generation Eight!"

For a brief moment, Shingin's mind went blank, his survival instincts obliterated by the overwhelming assault. His body reacted on sheer desperation, leaping and dodging with no plan, no strategy—only an unrelenting drive to escape.

He stumbled, narrowly dodging a massive energy blast. The thunderous crack of the explosion left his ears ringing, the concussive force nearly rendering him unconscious. He staggered backward, weaving through the battlefield like a ghost, yet finding no refuge, no reprieve.

"Don't let him escape!"

Watcher 23, knife in hand, lunged at Shingin's exposed back. Sensing the danger, Shingin turned his head slightly, dread washing over him. That blade, if it landed, would mean certain death.

Summoning what strength remained, Shingin hurled himself to the right, the blade grazing his shoulder. Sparks flew as the air rippled violently, but the watchers pressed on, refusing to relent.

There was no time to think of counterattacks. Shingin could only focus on dodging, scanning the battlefield for even the slightest chance of survival.

The onslaught intensified, a relentless storm of strikes raining down upon him. His body contorted mid-air, twisting and turning with desperate precision. Every muscle screamed in agony, every movement a gamble against death.

"RAAAAAAHHH!" Shingin roared, his voice a primal blend of fury and despair. His wounds reopened, blood seeping freely, but he paid no heed. His sole focus was breaking through the encirclement. His movements grew faster, more erratic, as if his body had transcended pain and exhaustion.

Watcher 20 loomed closer, his dark energy cannon charging again. The deafening roar of the weapon tore through the battlefield, its shockwave ripping through the air as it barreled toward Shingin. His heart stopped. He knew he lacked the strength to dodge entirely, yet instinct drove him to leap into the air.

"Damn it all!!!!!" The blast skimmed past his feet, obliterating a nearby structure. Heat and force seared his skin, leaving fresh burns in their wake.

He knew he had little time left.

Suddenly, a violent tremor erupted within his body. The air around him began to crackle and tear as his lightning-element power surged uncontrollably. A spark of resolve ignited in his eyes. In that instant, one thought crystallized in his mind: If I don't counterattack now, I'll die.

A burst of electricity erupted from him, forming a shockwave that sent nearby watchers flying. Bathed in the brilliance of his lightning aura, Shingin shot upward, momentarily free from the suffocating pressure of the ground. For a fleeting second, he felt unshackled, as though he had escaped the chains of gravity itself.

But the watchers were relentless, pursuing him even as he soared through the sky. Though he had left the earth behind, he remained ensnared within the inescapable web of death.

Victory was no longer on his mind. There was only one thought driving him now: Escape, and see Mother again.