The electric arc had burned out its last shimmer in Ye Mo's palm, leaving behind the lingering smell of burnt metal. He stood there, the black smoke emanating from the Steel Bone joint in his right leg no longer rising, as if something had blocked its exit, causing it to hiss and crackle inside, like a pressure cooker about to explode.
Ultron's red eyes were fixed on him, and he remained motionless.
The shockwave that just exploded sent others flying, and it even caused its data stream to pause for half a second. But now, it has recovered.
And it realized—this person was the only one who hadn't backed down.
It wasn't that I couldn't stand steadily, or that my reaction was slow; it was that I had no intention of dodging at all.
"Variables... correction." Ultron finally spoke, his voice no longer carrying the electronic noise of before, but rather eerily flat, like a blade slowly scraping against glass.
The moment the words left his mouth, a crack appeared in the clouds, blocking out the sunlight; only the black smoke rising from the wreckage of the mechanical legion swirled around.
The ground began to shake.
It wasn't the kind of tremor that shakes the earth; it was a precise, rhythmic pulse coming from all directions, like dozens of heavy mechs simultaneously pressing their hydraulic legs and advancing in unison.
But what mechs are left on the battlefield?
Ye Mo's eye twitched.
He knew that Ultron had no intention of using the remnants of his army.
It's going to concentrate all its remaining energy on him alone.
The first beam of light shot out from the southeast corner. It was purplish-red, about the thickness of a thumb, and moved at a slow speed. You could even see the ripples it created as it cut through the air. Ye Mo dodged to the side, but his left shoulder still grazed the edge. His work jacket was instantly carbonized, and a piercing heat came from under his skin, as if someone had branded him with a hot iron and stirred it into his bones.
He gritted his teeth and didn't utter a sound.
The second beam came from behind. He sensed it half a second in advance thanks to the slight tremor in his spinal cord. He stomped his right foot on the ground and fell forward. His Steel Bone right leg snapped and dislocated, sparks flying from the joint. The beam grazed his back, slicing away the entire back of his hoodie and revealing a patch of metallic-looking subcutaneous tissue at his waist—the emergency extension layer of his " Steel Bone Body," which had already begun to repair itself.
The third, the fourth, the fifth...
Connected in a line.
It's no longer single-shot, it's burst fire.
Ye Mo rolled, leaped, and then fell again, his movements becoming increasingly sluggish. The sixth strike hit him squarely in the chest. The fragments of his shield barely held him up for the first half second, then shattered completely. The impact sent him sliding three meters backward, his shoes carving two charred furrows into the molten ground.
He coughed, but didn't spit out blood; instead, a metallic, sweet taste rose from his nasal cavity.
"42% cooldown remaining," he muttered to himself, as if reporting to someone or reminding himself not to fall asleep. "If it can reach 60%, that's good enough."
Ultron didn't speak, but slowly raised his arms.
The six heavy mech wreckage behind it suddenly trembled, the broken metal at the joints reformed on its own, and the energy cores relit, the red light flashing like a heartbeat.
This is not a fix.
This is a sacrifice.
Each mech's core was drawing energy outwards, channeling it along an invisible data chain into the chest area of Ultron's main body. There was originally only a circular energy ring there, but it began to expand, its color changing from red to purple, eventually becoming a deep, almost blackish purple, with tiny electric snakes crawling across its surface.
Ye Mo understood.
This is neither a volley nor a siege.
This is targeted elimination.
He's the one.
He didn't run away.
You can't run away either.
Behind him was his teammates' last breathing space; ahead lay Ultron's death stare.
He gathered the remaining " Force Field fragments" in front of his arms, barely managing to form a hemispherical shield, less than a third the thickness of the original. With the Steel Bone in his right leg completely jammed, he simply used his internal force to seal the breach, pressing all the energy he could muster into his lower body, forcefully pinning both legs to the ground.
"Come on," he grinned, blood still smeared on his teeth. "You go ahead and charge yours, I'll wait."
Ultron's attack came before it could fully charge.
The first wave consisted of three high-frequency pulses, spaced 0.3 seconds apart, all striking the center of the shield.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
Each blow felt like a hammer pounding on a tin bucket, the sound so deep it made one's heart clench. Ye Mo felt his internal organs vibrate, a sweet taste rose in his throat, and blood immediately trickled from the corner of his mouth. He didn't wipe it away, letting the blood drip down his chin to his chest, landing on the burned fabric with a soft "hissing" sound.
The second wave consisted of seven waves, with a faster frequency, almost forming a straight line.
Cracks began to appear on the shield, like glass being scratched bit by bit with a fingernail.
Ye Mo closed his eyes, his consciousness diving into the seventh level of the " Gene Spiral Tower," quickly searching for usable defense modules. Self-Healing? Still on cooldown. Phase Shift? He almost cut himself in half last time he used it, so he didn't dare try it lightly. Regenerative Phasing? That's for passing through Wall Phasing, not for tanking cannons.
He opened his eyes, stared at the ever-growing ball of energy on Ultron's chest, and suddenly smiled.
"You just want to see if I fall?" he said hoarsely. "Fine, then aim carefully."
As soon as he finished speaking, he deliberately dispelled his shield.
It's not giving up, it's switching sides.
He concentrated all his remaining energy at the front of his left arm, and 0.3 seconds before the energy beam arrived, he thrust forward sharply—a miniature barrier popped up, only a size larger than a fist, just enough to block the beam's point of contact.
"Bang!"
The sound of the impact subsided, but the recoil force directly broke two of his ribs.
He groaned, his body swayed, but he didn't fall.
He met the second blow head-on.
The third strike, another upward thrust.
Each time, the timing was precise, within 0.3 seconds, like playing a life-or-death rhythm game. His movements became slower and slower, veins bulged on his forehead, and blood began to trickle from his nose, dripping onto the ground at his feet, mixing with the molten metal to form a dark red paste.
"The cooldown is down to 38%..." he said softly. "I can hold out until 60%, I told you."
Ultron's red eyes flashed.
It realized that this guy wasn't just putting up a brave front.
It's being calculated.
Calculate its attack rhythm, calculate your own recovery time, and calculate how much energy you can save every second.
It doesn't like this feeling.
So it changed.
Instead of pursuing frequency, he compressed all his energy into a single stream, storing it in his chest like a miniature sun about to explode.
Ye Mo knew this was the last wave.
He didn't move, his feet firmly planted on the ground, his left arm slightly extended forward, faint sparks still dancing at his fingertips. His right leg's Steel Bone was completely destroyed, so he simply cut off the signal transmission, relying on the metallization of his bones to forcibly support him. A large crack appeared in his breastplate, his skin and flesh charred black, but his heart was still beating.
He looked up and stared directly at Ultron.
"You still haven't won," he said.
Ultron did not respond.
It simply let go.
A purplish-black energy pillar crashed down, ten meters in diameter. Wherever it passed, the ground melted through, rocks turned into crimson magma, and the air distorted as if a heatwave were passing through it. The entire battlefield seemed to have been put on an incineration button, and all the debris vaporized instantly.
Ye Mo's shield shattered within the first millisecond.
Two-thirds of his left arm was vaporized in the second millisecond, leaving only a charred skeleton that was still smoking.
His breastplate shattered, and large areas of his skin were charred, but he didn't close his eyes.
He injected the last of his available genetic energy into the spinal nerve chain, triggering the underlying emergency protocol of the " Steel Bone Body ". The metallized skeleton rapidly extended from the spine to the limbs, forcibly supporting the subcutaneous tissue, like steel bars driven into the flesh, maintaining the standing posture.
His knees began to sink into the lava-like ground.
One inch.
Two inches.
Three inches.
Leaning forward like a bowstring stretched to its limit, ready to snap at any moment.
But he didn't fall.
He didn't close his eyes either.
He looked at Ultron, a hoarse voice squeezing out from his throat. "You... still haven't won--"
The wind blew past him, carrying Ashes, and the last remaining strips of fabric from his hoodie fluttered in the wind.
He stood there, like an iron stake stuck in a furnace, glowing red-hot, yet never bending.