My Abyss Survival Diary

Chapter 112 Out of Control

The fanatic squad leader lost his right eye, but his combat power remained undiminished.

He held the heavy hammer in one hand, scanned the position of everyone present with his single eye, and then let out a low laugh.

The hydraulic system restarted, and two plumes of scorching white steam billowed from the armor's cooling vents—a harbinger of a full-scale attack.

"You can't hold out!" the squad leader spat out, raising the heavy hammer once more.

Simon and the nun did their best, but they could only hold off this experienced squad leader.

Meanwhile, Lin Ying's defenses are crumbling.

The fanatical armored figure, whose arm blade was stuck, pulled out a spare hand axe with his left hand. The axe blade gleamed a cold white in the spore's dim light, and the armor's hydraulic system amplified the force of each swing to hundreds of kilograms.

Lin Ying raised his spear to parry the first axe blow. The axe struck the center of the spear shaft, and the enormous impact traveled up the shaft, making his hands numb and his fingers almost unable to grip the weapon.

The second axe cleaved down immediately, striking the same spot. The spear shaft snapped in half, the upper half spinning as it flew out and embedded itself in the mud three meters away.

Lin Ying was so shocked that he fell backward, hitting the back of his head on a rock, and saw stars before his eyes.

"Forest Eagle!" The sand badger hurriedly rode atop its armor.

For a beginner, mastering the armor for walking and running is manageable, but jumping straight into combat is too much to ask.

The fanatic roared and threw a heavy punch, striking her armor in the chest. The armor, ridden by the badger, staggered backward, its body arching uncontrollably before crashing heavily to the ground.

Chalasu stood less than a kilometer behind Lin Ying.

The moment he saw his grandson fall to the ground, a strange light flashed in his cloudy old eyes, silvery-white, flickering deep within his pupils.

He knew what it was; it was psychic energy, something he had suppressed, hidden, and denied for most of his life.

From that moment on, he vowed never to use psychic powers again. No matter what happened, he locked that power deep within his bones, forging a dam with his will and reinforcing it day after day, never letting a single drop of psychic energy leak out.

But now his grandson lies on the ground, and a three-meter-tall steel monster is raising a hand axe to stomp on his grandson's chest.

Chalasu clenched his fists.

He felt the force that had been suppressed for decades was crashing against the dam, like a wild beast that had been caged for too long, smelling blood, and frantically pounding on the railings.

His fingers trembled, the silver light in his pupils flickered, his breathing became rapid and heavy, he clenched his teeth, and blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.

He was using his last shred of reason to control himself.

The fanatic raised his left leg, the metal boot hovering above Lin Ying's chest.

Lin Ying did not close his eyes. He used the broken spear to support himself on the ground and tried to stand up. He let out a roar and stared intently at the peephole of the armor.

He wasn't fearless; he was the kind of person who would die with dignity.

Chalasu saw his grandson's wide eyes, saw the metal boots reflected in those eyes, and saw the same stubbornness in those eyes as his own when he was young.

The dam broke.

A silvery-white light erupted from Charasu's body, an avalanche-like, unstoppable burst of energy!

The ground cracked, and the cracks spread outwards from where he stood. Gravel and soil were lifted up by an invisible force and floated in mid-air, slowly rotating.

The air grew increasingly thick, each breath feeling like inhaling a wad of soaked cotton. Everyone present felt the oppressive pressure, a primal weight pressing directly on their souls.

The fanatics stopped their actions without warning.

Amidst the furious roar, an indescribable force, like an invisible giant hand, pressed down on the armor from all directions simultaneously.

The hydraulic hoses at the joints were crushed, and hydraulic oil gushed out from the ruptures, condensing into a black fountain in the air. The breastplate began to cave in under the pressure, and rivets flew off one after another. The armor plates emitted a piercing metallic groan, and a dark red light flickered wildly in the helmet's peephole. The fanatic inside the armor screamed in terror!

Chalasu took a step forward.

His eyes were no longer cloudy or weary; only a cold, inhuman blue light shone in them, like two stars frozen deep within the ice.

His lips were moving, but instead of words, they were emitting a low, continuous hum.

He raised his right hand, his five fingers slowly closing, and the invisible hand in the air tightened as well.

The fanatic's breastplate collapsed completely, crushing the metal frame, hydraulic cylinders, and drive shafts connecting his limbs inside the armor!

The three-meter-tall war machine instantly turned into a twisted mass of scrap metal in front of him, with dark red blood and a viscous mixture of hydraulic oil seeping from its crevices.

When Charasu lowered his right hand, the lump of scrap metal crashed to the ground.

"Psionic power?"

Another fanatic—the squad leader whose knee seal had been pierced by the nun—saw this scene, and fear appeared in his one eye for the first time.

Sparks were still flying from his left knee joint, and his movements were noticeably slow. But for a moment, he struggled between his fighting instinct and his survival instinct. In that split second, he made his decision. He took a step back, and the hammer fell from his hand, its head hitting the ground.

"withdraw!"

The other still-functioning armored vehicle supported the squad leader, and the two broken war machines dragged their heavy steps backward. Their figures were gradually swallowed by the mist, and the sound of metal boots stepping on the muddy ground grew farther and farther away until they disappeared completely into the depths of the flower field.

The battle is over.

Lin Ying got up from the ground, looked at the armor that had been crushed into scrap metal in front of him, and then looked at his grandfather. His lips moved, as if he wanted to say something but couldn't.

Simon turned around.

Chalasu remained standing in the same spot, his right hand hanging at his side with his fingers slightly spread.

The silvery-white light had not completely dissipated and was still flowing around him.

His back was straighter than ever before; the old man bent over by the years was gone, replaced by a body filled with psychic energy. His white hair fluttered gently in the windless air, each strand carrying a faint silver light.

He slowly turned around to face Simon.

Those eyes gleamed with a cold blue light, completely different from the original brown of his pupils. The light was bright, but without any warmth, like two gems frozen deep in ice.

His gaze toward Simon held no anger, no pain, only a strange, unsettling emptiness.

"Elder Chalasu," Simon called his name softly.

Charasu did not respond; his lips were still moving slightly, emitting that low, meaningless buzzing sound.

A faint light struggled deep within the pupil, like a lone lamp caught in a storm, refusing to go out.

Then he turned his head and looked at Lin Ying.

Lin Ying was standing next to the pile of scrap metal, still clutching the broken spear in his hand, his body covered in mud and blood.

His grandson is still alive.

When Chalasu's cold blue eyes saw Lin Ying, they lingered for a longer moment than when he looked at anyone else.

His lips stopped humming, and his brows furrowed slightly, as if he was trying to recall something important. Among the fragments of consciousness that had been swept away by the overwhelming spiritual energy, one name stubbornly remained at the top, impossible to wash away.

Lin Ying took a step forward, his voice hoarse: "Grandpa!"

""

Charasu did not answer him; the blue light was still flashing, the psionic energy was still surging within him, and his consciousness was still adrift in that cold, boundless torrent.

After a long while, he turned around and left without looking back.