Savior in Shadow Slave

Akame, having finished what could barely be called food, wiped the faint trace of blackened blood from her lips with the back of her hand. The taste lingered—metallic, acrid, and vile—but she had grown used to it. Survival didn't care about taste.

With a sharp breath, she forced herself to her feet. Every movement sent a dull ache rippling through her battered muscles, but she ignored it. Pain had long become her constant companion, just another shadow trailing her steps.

The Dark City stretched before her—silent, crumbling, and draped in an eternal twilight. Towering spires of obsidian stone jutted at odd angles, their surfaces cracked and carved with markings that pulsed faintly, like veins of old wounds that refused to heal. The streets were littered with the remnants of battles long past—broken weapons, shattered bones, and the faint stains of black blood that glistened under the distant, blood-colored glow of the sky.

Akame walked slowly, her fingers brushing against the wall of a ruined cathedral as she passed. Each step echoed faintly in the hollow silence, mingling with the low hum of the city itself. It wasn't alive, but it wasn't entirely dead either. There was always a sensation here, as though something just beyond the veil was watching, waiting.

Her eyes, sharp and bloodshot, roamed the broken streets. She had walked this path countless times in the last eight months, but it never stopped feeling like a tomb. A tomb for him.

She stopped near the edge of the plaza, where the wind carried the faint smell of decay and rust. Her hand tightened around the hilt of her star-blade.

'Murphy… If you were here, you'd probably call me crazy for living like this.'

The thought made her lips twitch into something that might have been a smile—or maybe just a grimace.

She let out a quiet sigh and kept walking, her boots crunching over the shattered cobblestones. The Dark City loomed around her like a maze of memories and nightmares, its jagged towers clawing at the dim sky. Somewhere—far beyond these broken walls and endless shadows—lay the path she needed to take.

The path to find him.

DOOM!

The sudden, heavy sound echoed from near the outer wall. Akame froze, her heart lurching as a chill crept up her spine. Fearing the worst, she sprinted toward the noise, every step ringing with a silent dread.

When she reached the wall, her breath caught.

A human-like figure stood there, back turned to her. Long, tangled hair draped like seaweed over its shoulders, and its eyes—when it slowly turned to look at her—gleamed with a wild, manic light. For a split second, Akame's fingers tightened on the hilt of Midnight Shard, ready to strike.

"Lucas," she exhaled, releasing the tension in her stance, though her voice carried a sharp edge. "Don't pull stunts like that. I thought a sea monster had crawled its way here."

Lucas turned his head slowly, his hair whipping in the breeze like wet seaweed, the stench of the Dark Sea clinging to him. His eyes—once sharp and mischievous—now glimmered with something unhinged, a manic light as if he'd stared too long into the abyss and found it staring back.

"Sea monster?" he muttered, his voice hoarse and ragged, like he'd been shouting or laughing for hours.

Akame's fingers instinctively brushed against the hilt of Midnight Shard. Her instincts screamed danger, but this was Lucas—though in that moment, he looked more like a stranger. "Lucas," she said, her tone sharper than she intended, "what the hell have you been doing?"

He tilted his head, a grin pulling at his lips—but it wasn't the usual cocky smirk she knew. It was wrong. Twisted. "The answer is at the bottom," he whispered, his voice trembling with something between awe and madness. "I've seen it…the path. I have seen it."

Akame froze, her heart thudding. "…The Dark Sea?"

Lucas nodded slowly, his grin stretching further, as if every word only tightened the grip of whatever obsession gnawed at him. "Every time the tide pulls back, I go down. I kill whatever moves, whatever breathes. Now, I know the answer."

Akame clenched her jaw. She could see it now—dried blood on his knuckles, the tattered edges of his clothes, and faint veins of purple under his skin—a clear sign he had pushed himself beyond limits. "You'll get yourself killed, Lucas," she said, voice colder than she felt.

"Maybe," he replied, meeting her eyes with a glare so intense it made her chest tighten. "But if I die down there, at least I'll be closer to him."

Murphy.

The name unspoken between them hit her harder than a blade.

"Lucas…" Her voice softened despite herself. "He wouldn't want you to lose yourself like this. Neither do I or Elizabeth."

For a moment, his grin faltered. She thought she saw the boy she knew flash behind those bloodshot eyes. But then his jaw tightened, and that wild grin crept back. "If the Abyss holds the answer," he said, "I'll drag it out with my own hands. Don't get in my way, Akame. You've got your path to find him, and I've got mine."

"So, what are you here for, Lucas?" Akame asked, her tone sharp but not unfriendly.

"Let's talk when Elizabeth gets here," he replied, his voice low and almost distracted.

"Fine," she said with a small shrug. "Let's head to the Cathedral."

"Yeah…" Lucas hesitated, his tone softening. "I still wonder how Murphy managed to find that place."

Akame let out a bitter chuckle. "Did anything he did ever make sense to you? If he wanted, he could have done everything alone. The strength he unleashed back then… it wasn't just enough to kill a measly Fallen Terror. That strength—" her voice faltered for a moment, "—it could have crushed Corrupted Tyrants. Even Terrors. And yet… he chose to fight with us. To carry us."

Hearing this, Lucas fell silent. His hand tightened around the shaft of his spear, knuckles pale as his jaw clenched.

The two walked on through the strangely bright, motionless streets. The Dark City was silent now, like a beast that had bled out its rage long ago. Lucas glanced around, his expression unreadable.

"You've cleared this whole place, haven't you, Akame?" he said, almost as if trying to distract himself. "When we first got here, it was crawling with horrors. Now… if I'm not wrong, there are only a few Fallen left. And that one… the one still festering in the Castle."

"Yeah." Akame's voice was low, heavy with something unspoken. "I've become stronger because of it. Stronger than I ever thought I'd be. You and Elizabeth too… But you know, even with all this strength, it feels hollow." She gripped the hilt of her star-blade until her knuckles turned white. "Even if we can take down most Awakened now… it doesn't matter. Not without him here."

Lucas opened his mouth to reply, but the sound of footsteps cut through the silence.

A presence—sharp and cold—approached from the far end of the street. Both of them turned, their eyes narrowing instinctively.

Elizabeth emerged from the haze.

But she wasn't the Elizabeth they remembered.

Her once vibrant, cheerful smile was gone, replaced by an expression as still and frigid as ice. Her hair, usually tied with careless energy, fell loose around her face, damp with blood and soot. She walked with a slow, deliberate pace, her boots echoing against the cobblestones.

Her Serpent slithered around her about 3.5 meters long now. Each step she took felt like a threat, like the air itself recoiled from her presence.

"Elizabeth," Lucas called out, almost unsure.

Her eyes flicked to him—cold, emotionless, almost unrecognizing. The warmth that once defined her was gone, hollowed out.

"...You're late," she said flatly, her voice carrying just a hint of the playful edge that used to follow her words.

Akame frowned, stepping forward slightly. "Elizabeth… what happened to you?"

Elizabeth didn't answer immediately. Her gaze swept over Akame and Lucas, as if measuring them, as if deciding whether they were worth speaking to.

Finally, she spoke, her tone like a blade cutting through the silence.

"Let's skip the pleasantries. If we're here to talk about Murphy, say it. Otherwise, I don't have time for pointless chatter."

Lucas flinched slightly, taken aback. He looked at Akame, who clenched her teeth.

'This isn't her,' Akame thought, her chest tightening. 'What happened to you, Elizabeth? What did you see after he disappeared?'

Shaking off the tangle of thoughts in her head, Akame led them silently through the streets toward the Cathedral. The towering ruin loomed above them, its shadow swallowing what little warmth the day offered. With practiced ease, she leapt onto the ledges and slipped into the priestess's chamber at the very top, careful not to disturb the Fallen Devil lurking in the adjacent hall.

When they entered the room, all three of them froze.

Murphy was there.

He stood by the window, coat rippling in the breeze, that familiar, faint smile on his face. For a heartbeat, none of them moved. But as soon as they stepped forward—he flickered like mist. Then vanished.

Only an illusion. A memory lodged too deep in their hearts.

"I miss him."

The voice was faint, fragile. It took them a moment to realize it was Elizabeth who had spoken. The cold edge she carried now made the words feel almost alien. No one teased her. They couldn't. Because they felt it too.

After a long silence, they sat on the dusty bed. Akame quietly summoned the Corpse Collector, its six arms moving with mechanical precision as it prepared meat and poured the ancient wine she'd been hoarding.

"That's the echo I gave you, Akame," Elizabeth remarked, her tone flat but not unkind.

"Yes," Akame replied, "I've put it to good use."

Then Elizabeth turned her gaze to Lucas, her eyes sharp. "Speak. What do you want?"

Lucas straightened, his fingers tightening on his spear.

"I suggest we band together again," he said slowly, deliberately, "and go for the remaining four keys."