Kryptonians: Man of Steel

Chapter 1516 Upgraded!
He felt as if he were being repeatedly run over by a fully loaded truck, or as if he were falling straight down a cliff and crashing onto cold rocks.

The last bit of strength supporting his body completely dissipated, and he, like a bag of heavy and broken garbage carelessly discarded, crashed heavily onto the cold, damp ground along with the enormous monster's collapsing corpse.

The impact was dull and suffocating.

Dust mixed with a nauseatingly strong stench of blood suddenly rose up and covered his head and face.

The steel longsword—the weapon that had temporarily served as a lifeline—was still deeply embedded in the monster's smashed skull, the immense impact making it exceptionally secure.

At this moment, the cold, hard counterweight ball at the end of the sword hilt was pressing hard against his left rib at an extremely tricky angle.

Each faint breath brought a piercing pain, as if a red-hot iron rod was pressed against him, reminding him of this absurd reality.

He collapsed onto the filthy ground, beneath him a thick, cold mud mixed with the monster's dark purple, foul-smelling blood and his own sweat.

Sweat had already soaked through his inner shirt, and now it was greedily absorbing the coldness and bloodstains from the ground.

He was like a dying fish, mercilessly thrown ashore, futilely flapping his gills, only able to inhale air filled with the smells of rust, dust, and the putrid stench of a monster's entrails.

Each inhalation felt like tearing apart his riddled lungs, the thick, bloody stench rushing straight to his brain, causing waves of dizziness; each exhalation was accompanied by an uncontrollable, broken, hoarse groan, proof that every part of his body was screaming in agony.

My throat was burning, and I felt as thirsty as if I had swallowed sand.

The tears had long since been shed in the extreme fear and pain of the life-or-death struggle just now, leaving only swollen eye sockets and a dry, stinging sensation.

Sweat streamed down his forehead and temples, washing away the mixture of grime on his face—congealed scabs (some his own, some the monster's), dust, the acrid residue of vomit, and the monster's nauseating bodily fluids.

All of this was smeared on their faces, forming a thick, suffocating layer of mud that almost sealed their mouths and noses.

After experiencing extreme tension, fear, and muscle tearing beyond its limits, the stomach finally emitted a series of loud, hollow moans.

However, that familiar, tormenting hunger did not even cause a ripple in this boundless, bone-deep ocean of pain; it was instantly and completely submerged.

Hunger? That's something from another world.

At this moment, what occupied all his senses was hell.

[Punishment completed.]

The cold, emotionless, mechanical synthesized voice, like the sharpest ice pick, pierced directly into his chaotic, almost thoughtless mind.

[Objective: Forced adaptive movement (completed). Encounter with low-level monster (lv1, completed). Self-reliance and counterattack (completed).]

The words were cruelly clear; every note in parentheses felt like a hammer blow to his remaining consciousness.

Forced adaptive movement? That's like being chased by monsters and fleeing like a stray dog!

A self-reliant counterattack for survival? That's a chaotic, frenzied hacking attack that erupts from being driven to the brink of despair, fueled by pure survival instinct!

Survival rate improvement assessment: +0.01%.

A number that was almost insulting twitched coldly.

0.01 percent? Hachiman Hikigaya thought numbly. This improvement would probably only allow him to survive for another 0.1 seconds when he was torn apart by the monster next time.

[Reward: None. (Penalty item)]

As expected, the cold reality struck again.

There were no miracles, no consolation, only cold logic: punishment is punishment itself.

[New task list being generated...]

New torment is on its way.

He couldn't even be bothered to think about what it might be.

Despair, like molten lead, filled my limbs and bones, heavier than any physical pain.

Hachiman Hikigaya, who was forcibly given the title of "Apprentice Hero," was completely exhausted at this moment, even to the point of cursing the "damn system" in his mind.

All their spirit and will were burned up in that brief but life-consuming battle.

He could only lie like a rag doll, still feeling pain, beside the monster's gradually cooling, stiff, and sticky corpse beneath him.

The pungent, suffocating stench of blood, the putrid smell of the monster's internal organs, and the lingering sour odor of his own vomit mixed together to create a stench that could make anyone faint instantly, enveloping him completely.

The pervasive odor, along with the excruciating pain emanating from every part of his body—a pain akin to being repeatedly pierced by countless red-hot steel needles, causing his muscle fibers to rupture inch by inch—became the only clear sensations he could perceive at that moment.

The pain was so vivid, so domineering, like a cold-blooded announcer repeating over and over in his shattered consciousness: "You are still alive. You are living in hell."

What kind of hero?
They are nothing more than pitiful creatures manipulated by the system, struggling to survive for a mere 0.01% chance of survival.

Deep within his body, there seemed to be an unconscious spasm. The suppressed, intermittent vomiting sounds in his throat gradually changed tone, no longer a purely physiological reaction, but a collapse brought about by the enormous, unbearable impact of surviving a catastrophe.

A sob, a mixture of extreme fear, lingering dread, grievance, and a sense of absurdity, welled up uncontrollably from the depths of his chest, broken and weak, like the whimper of a dying animal.

Hachiman Hikigaya closed his eyes, which were almost completely covered by blood and thick secretions.

Light was blocked, but sound and smell flooded the senses more vividly.

He was overwhelmed by immense exhaustion and a deep-seated sense of despair.

His consciousness teetered on the brink of excruciating pain and utter mental collapse. All he wanted was to sink into the boundless darkness, fall asleep, and never wake up again.

Or... perhaps dying directly would be a relief? At least you wouldn't have to face the next "mission" or endure this inhuman torture again.

Death has never exuded such an alluring sense of peace as it does now.

Just as his consciousness was about to completely slide into the abyss of darkness, a pop-up window, completely different from the previous system notification and carrying a faint but clear energy fluctuation, forcibly squeezed into his mind, which was on the verge of stagnation:
[Apprentice Hero Hachiman Hikigaya has successfully slain a level 1 monster and gained experience points. The experience points are sufficient for leveling up!]

[Level Up: lv0 → lv1!]

Immediately afterwards, an indescribable, overwhelming warmth, like the first sweet spring thawing in early spring, burst forth without warning from the very core of his body—perhaps his heart, or perhaps some vague coordinate of his soul!
(End of this chapter)