In an instant, dark storm clouds of lightning and rain engulfed the battlefield, as if the light of the world had been extinguished. Shingin's power continued to surge uncontrollably, every streak of lightning and every tempestuous gust defying the laws of nature. The raging storm blurred everything around him, creating an apocalyptic symphony of wind and thunder. Amid the chaos, Shingin stood like a lone star—flickering, yet fragile.
Watcher 20 and Watcher 21 were caught in the violent vortex of energy. The sheer impact of the lightning and water currents hurled their bodies like broken kites, accompanied by deafening roars that shook the battlefield like an earthquake. Several watchers were struck down instantly, their bodies battered and bruised, with some slammed into surrounding structures, falling unconscious on impact.
But the devastating display of power came at a steep cost for Shingin. His body was on the brink of collapse, his wounds tearing open and blood spraying into the air. His eyes were bloodshot, his vision clouded with pain, yet his instinct for survival drove him forward.
Even so, he knew the battle was far from over. The oppressive aura of death still loomed, as Watcher 20, Watcher 21, Watcher 23, and the other formidable enemies readied themselves for another assault.
Watcher 20 finally regained his footing, his masked face betraying a glimmer of cold menace. "Damn it!" he growled, advancing toward Shingin with a cruel smirk. With each step, the air grew heavier, laden with an inescapable sense of dread.
Watcher 23 followed close behind, brandishing his longsword with a sharp flourish. The blade hummed with razor-edged currents, slicing through the air with an audible hiss. "Eighth Generation, how much longer can you last?" he sneered, his eyes alight with unrelenting bloodlust.
Shingin knew he was running out of time. Blood streamed from his body, and his strength was nearly spent. Every inch of his flesh screamed with pain, a grim reminder of the inevitability of his situation. Yet, he refused to yield—this was his one and only chance.
As the watchers closed in, a sharp, searing pain radiated from Shingin's chest. Blood welled up anew, nearly robbing him of consciousness. His trembling hands barely held steady, his vision wavering. And yet, in this moment of despair, he clung to the faintest glimmer of hope.
"No… I can't die…"
Driven purely by instinct, Shingin once again drew upon the last remnants of his power. Wind, lightning, and water converged around him, coalescing into a chaotic storm of energy. The watchers could only watch in shock as Shingin unleashed an even more devastating surge of strength.
"Boom!"
With a deafening roar, the elemental forces erupted like a cataclysmic flood. The battlefield quaked as the shockwave tore through everything in its path. Structures crumbled under the sheer force of the storm, while blinding flashes of lightning illuminated Shingin's figure amidst the destruction.
Caught off guard, Watcher 25 and Watcher 23 were struck by the violent surge of lightning and wind, their anguished screams echoing across the battlefield. Seizing the moment, Shingin broke free from their encirclement, temporarily turning the tide of the fight.
Yet, this fleeting advantage was not enough to alter the course of the battle. Shingin's injuries were severe, and countless enemies still surrounded him. His life force flickered like a dying candle.
"I must… survive…"
Even with death's shadow looming ever closer, Shingin refused to give in. He raised his trembling hands once more, summoning wind and lightning to clash in a final desperate act. The resulting shockwave tore through the air, scattering the approaching watchers like leaves in a gale.
But the effort exacted a harsh toll. Shingin's vision dimmed, and his body trembled uncontrollably. Each movement sent fresh waves of pain coursing through his battered frame, his joints crying out in agony.
The watchers regrouped and began closing in again. Shingin's eyes burned with unyielding resolve as he muttered under his breath, "No… I can't die!"
But at the critical moment, Shingin's body betrayed him. The tempest of wind and lightning faltered and dissipated as if drained of all power. A wave of dizziness struck him, and darkness encroached upon his vision.
A bone-chilling presence crept closer, like the icy breath of death itself. Shingin's body grew weaker, his consciousness fading. Amid the cacophony of battle, he heard faint, distant echoes—his mother's voice, Shizuha's cries—a bittersweet reminder of what he was fighting for.
With his final breath of strength, Shingin whispered a silent vow to the void: "I will live…"