Chapter 181: Corrosion of Hope and Faith

Shingin's steps faltered, each stride feeling like stepping on a thousand-pound iron plate—unsteady and crushing. His chest heaved violently, each breath burning his lungs as if searing them from within. Around him, the desolation of the ruins and the remnants of destruction clung to his vision like haunting phantoms, refusing to dissipate.

Suddenly, he stopped. Before him lay William's corpse—the headless body lay motionless on the ground, surrounded by dried blood. A short distance away, William's severed head rested silently on its side, his eyes still holding a trace of the resolve he bore in battle.

Shingin's pupils contracted sharply, and his body trembled uncontrollably. He reached out, wanting to touch the lifeless body, but his hand froze midair. His throat seemed choked by an invisible force; no sound could escape, and he could not swallow another breath. He staggered and dropped to his knees, his hands weakly propping against the cold debris. Pressing his forehead to the ground, his trembling grew uncontrollable, like a lone leaf in a storm. The agony in his heart swelled, splitting him apart.

At last, he could no longer contain it. A harrowing scream erupted from deep within him, primal and despairing, like the roar of a beast at death's door.

"Ugh...ugh...AAAAH!!!"

Shingin's voice echoed through the desolate ruins, piercing the deathly silence. His throat seemed to tear with every anguished syllable, raw with despair and pain. He crouched lower, clutching at his hair with both hands, his knuckles whitening from the strain, as if trying to tear the scalp from his skull.

His vacant gaze swept over the carnage and bloodstains before him. It was as though he were trapped in a nightmare, unable to wake. The once-familiar figures now lay lifeless, unable to respond to his cries.

"They're...dead. All of them are dead..." Shingin's voice was barely audible, yet it carried an icy chill, like the murmur of an irreversible curse. His bloodshot eyes brimmed with anguish, but no tears fell. Only the immense sorrow and torment churned within his chest.

He turned his gaze toward the lifeless bodies of William and Elder Kasamaki. Vivid images of their living selves flashed in his mind, colliding with reality, as though time had shattered in that moment. His expression twisted, his face contorted with the overwhelming grief that consumed him. His once-sharp eyes were now replaced with a haze of burgeoning madness.

"Dead... Dead! Every last one of them is dead!" Shingin's low laughter erupted suddenly, an unsettling sound, filled with suppressed agony and absolute collapse. His shoulders shook violently, as if bearing the weight of an entire world, only to crumble under it. The laughter rose in pitch, sharp and unhinged, spiraling into a grotesque melody of despair.

"You all abandoned me...every single one of you!" He lifted his head to the pitch-black sky, his laughter echoing through the ruins, mingling with his sobs and screams. Lightning slashed across the heavens again, illuminating his face—a visage torn apart by grief and despair.

"Ha...haha...hahahahaha…"

The sound of his laughter, laced with harrowing desolation, seemed like whispers rising from the abyss, shredding the last threads of his resolve. It was as though his entire being had disintegrated, leaving nothing to hold onto. Shingin rose suddenly, his movements erratic and unsteady, resembling a drunken man or a soulless puppet. His gaze wandered aimlessly, searching for something that wasn't there, his eyes void of focus or meaning.

He began to turn slowly, his body moving in a mechanical rotation. Each step felt like dragging heavy chains, unable to advance, merely twisting in place like a marionette without purpose. His pale face remained streaked with unfallen tears, yet the sorrow that had been etched upon it seemed to vanish. All that remained was emptiness and a restless, gnawing void.

He halted abruptly, his hands dangling lifelessly at his sides, as though the last vestiges of strength had been drained from him. The surrounding ruins loomed, devouring his every feeble struggle. And he, a solitary figure among the debris, appeared so insignificant and fragile.

"Where should I go...?" His voice trembled, tinged with helplessness and confusion. "What should I do...? Who...am I?"

"Rayl is dead... William is dead… Where do my feet lead me? Where am I supposed to go?"

Shingin's words hung in the air, as though he were speaking to someone, or perhaps simply to himself. Yet no answer came.

His heart felt like it was being crushed by an unseen hand, twisting relentlessly. The beliefs he had once clung to, the faint glimmers of hope that had guided him, now flickered and died like candles extinguished by the relentless wind. He felt the entire world slipping away, all light fading into the encroaching darkness. A deep abyss seemed to yawn before him, waiting silently for him to take that final step and disappear forever.

Shingin's trembling finally ceased as he stood motionless, swaying as though on the verge of collapse. His vacant stare gradually gave way to an eerie darkness, consuming his once-vivid eyes. The shadows spread, not only swallowing the world around him but anchoring themselves deep within his heart.

At this moment, Shingin was no longer the warrior who had once fought with hope blazing in his soul. That version of himself, who had once burned with a desire to protect, was now utterly consumed by despair and madness. Every last shred of his strength and reason was slipping away, leaving behind only an unfamiliar and fallen shadow of the man he used to be.