"Myoun! On your left! The Hydra's tail is coming!" Kyobei's shout cut through the chaos, his psychic force manifesting as a transparent barrier to halt the massive tail. Yet the sheer impact left deep grooves in the ground beneath his feet.
Myoun scoffed coldly. With a sweep of his hand, an obsidian torrent rose, tearing the Hydra's tail into shreds. His sharp gaze scanned the battlefield, catching the watchers attempting to flank their position and pursue Shingin.
"Not on my watch!" Myoun sidestepped, planting himself firmly before Watcher 20. The black energy encircling him solidified into an impenetrable shield.
Watcher 20 sneered, his hands morphing into colossal claws that tore through the barrier with sheer brute force. Myoun's brows furrowed as a surge of dark energy erupted from his palm, forcing the Watcher back.
"This one's tougher than expected," Watcher 20 muttered, his glare cutting like a blade.
Nearby, Haiihito was like an unstoppable juggernaut. His steel fists smashed into the Hydra's jaw with a resounding crack, pinning the creature to the ground. The Hydra roared in defiance, but Haiihito's overwhelming strength kept it subdued.
"Kyobei, some help here!" Haiihito's gravelly voice boomed over the battlefield.
"I'm on it, stop rushing me!" Kyobei retorted, summoning a psychic blade that pierced the Hydra's right eye with unerring precision. The beast let out a deafening screech of agony.
Meanwhile, Erukasu moved like a shadow across the field, his presence almost imperceptible. Emerging from the darkness, he struck swiftly and lethally. One of the watchers attempting to pursue Shingin collapsed lifelessly, Erukasu's blade already vanishing back into the void.
The chaos of the battlefield faded behind him as Shingin's ragged breathing and racing heart filled his ears. His mind churned with images of his seniors—fighting, shielding him, enduring unimaginable odds.
"Mom… Shizuha… I'm coming! Just wait for me!" Shingin clenched his fists, forcing himself to focus on the path ahead.
His body, battered and bruised, carried him through the desolate city he once called home. But as he stumbled through familiar streets, his heart sank at the devastation surrounding him.
The streets were strewn with rubble, the once-vibrant buildings reduced to skeletal ruins. The air was heavy with smoke and the acrid scent of blood. Corpses littered the ground, and faint cries of despair echoed in the distance.
"No… how could this happen…" Shingin whispered, his hands trembling. His fists clenched so tightly that his nails drew blood.
He had endured so much to protect this place, yet the home he sought to save had become a hellscape. His chest tightened, and cold sweat dripped from his brow as he took unsteady steps forward.
A faint commotion drew his attention. He turned to see a group of gaunt survivors emerging from the ruins, their eyes blazing with fury and hatred as they locked onto him.
"It's him!" an elderly man rasped, his voice sharp with venom. "That monster! He's the one who destroyed our city!"
"Yes! It's him! The demon!" Another voice joined in, and soon a mob formed, their hands clutching stones, metal scraps, and other makeshift weapons.
"Get out of here, you murderer!"
"Die, you filthy beast!"
Shingin flinched as stones hurtled toward him. He managed to dodge some, but others struck his shoulders and back with sharp, searing pain. Staggering, he nearly fell.
"What are you saying?" Shingin shouted, his voice strained and hoarse. "I'm not the one who did this! You've got it all wrong!"
But his protests were drowned out by the crowd's furious cries.
"Don't play innocent! We saw it with our own eyes! You and that cursed power destroyed everything!"
"Leave! Only your death can bring us peace!"
The accusatory glares pierced through Shingin's soul, each word cutting deeper than any wound. He stumbled back, his chest wound bleeding afresh, but the anguish inside hurt far worse.
"No… it wasn't me…" Shingin murmured, his voice faltering as despair began to take hold.
Suddenly, a woman emerged from the crowd, collapsing onto her knees. In her arms was the lifeless body of a small child, no older than five or six. The child's face was smudged with dirt and blood, lifeless and cold.
"Why? Why did you kill my child?" the woman screamed, her voice a heart-wrenching mix of agony and rage. She hurled a jagged stone at Shingin, striking his forehead and opening a fresh wound. Blood trickled down his face.
Shingin stood frozen, the world around him blurring as the woman's cries echoed in his mind. His throat tightened, and words refused to form as guilt and confusion overwhelmed him.
"No…" he whispered, his voice barely audible.
Shingin squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to suppress the storm of emotions threatening to consume him. He drew a deep breath, though his body trembled with the effort. His legs felt weak, but he straightened his back and looked around, his resolve hardening despite the pain.