"He! He used his emotions to break through that woman's control!"
[Grief] Banshee's command became an invisible ripple, and the other two Banshees understood at once.
They abandoned their futile attacks on the four "Tin Cans" and poured all their Divinity Power, like three surging gray rivers, into the figure shivering in the rain—into Yada Yada.
Boom!
Yada Yada's brain seemed to have been hit by a mental nuclear bomb.
If the sorrow from before had merely been oppressive background music, then now, the funeral dirges of every funeral in the world were playing inside his skull at full volume all at once.
The tiny bit of inferiority buried deep in his heart, his fear of being abandoned by his companions, and his anxiety that he would always be a burden were magnified by billions upon billions at that moment.
Illusions flooded over all his rationality like a breached dam.
He saw it.
He saw Dawn, Song Ling, and the others, each bathing in divine light, their figures towering like mountains, while he had shrunk into a tiny ball beneath the enormous shadows they cast.
He saw it.
He saw Qin Chuan's gaze coming from the distant Command Center. There was no blame in it, only a pure disappointment more wounding than blame.
He saw it.
The jokes he usually thought could liven up the atmosphere had now become unbearably grating noise in everyone's ears. Tiga Lingyu frowned slightly, Dawn impatiently turned his head away, and even the usually gentle Mirror avoided his face.
"Useless thing."
"A good-for-nothing who only holds everyone back."
"A joke."
The voices of [Grief], [Despair], and [Hatred] no longer came from outside. They had become his own inner voices, echoing again and again in the deepest part of his soul, repeatedly affirming his deepest fears.