twd: the last silence

Chapter 116

The Warden didn't speak.

He just stepped forward, heavy boots slamming the concrete with every stride. His iron mask glinted in the dim light, and the machete in his hand dripped with old blood. He was built like a tank—layers of muscle packed under thick, patchwork armor. A walking wall.

Axel didn't flinch.

He unsheathed his katana slowly, the metal singing against the scabbard. The blade gleamed red with old blood and new fury.

Behind them, the Nomads charged.

Daryl moved like a wild animal—crossbow raised, bolt fired, dropped. He slammed one man into a wall and drove a knife into his chest. Another swung a bat at him, but Daryl ducked low and gutted him in a blink. He didn't have time for pain or hesitation. It was kill or die.

Axel and the Warden circled each other.

Then they exploded forward.

The machete came down in a brutal arc. Axel slid to the side, but the sheer force of the swing shattered the ground where he'd stood. Axel answered with a slice, quick and elegant—aimed at the Warden's ribs. Sparks flew as metal struck armor.

The Warden growled and shoved Axel back, sending him crashing into the wall.

Axel laughed.

"Damn, you're heavy."

The Warden charged again. Machete up. Another swing. Axel blocked with the flat of his katana, the shock of the blow rattling his bones. He twisted, rolled beneath the next swing, and slashed at the back of the Warden's knee.

This time, he hit flesh.

The Warden roared. Blood sprayed.

But he didn't fall.

He turned and backhanded Axel so hard the wall cracked behind him. Axel spit blood, pushed himself up, eyes burning.

"You know," he growled, "I thought this would be harder."

The Warden came at him again, faster now despite the injury. Their weapons clashed—steel ringing against steel. Each blow was thunder. Each step was war.

Axel ducked a wide swing, jumped, and drove his katana into the Warden's shoulder. It sank deep, but the bastard didn't scream. Instead, he grabbed Axel by the throat and slammed him to the ground.

Axel choked, struggled—but his hand found his knife. One sharp stab into the Warden's thigh. Another. Another.

The Warden bellowed and staggered back.

Axel rolled to his feet, face bloodied, breathing ragged. He ripped his katana free from the Warden's shoulder and charged.

This time he didn't aim to wound.

He spun behind the Warden, ducked a clumsy swing, and hacked deep into the back of his knee. The Warden collapsed to one leg. Axel jumped, twisted mid-air, and slashed the mask clean off the Warden's face.

What was beneath wasn't a man.

It was something twisted—burned, scarred, eyes sunken and empty.

"You're not the devil," Axel said. "You're just another monster."

He raised his katana—and drove it through the Warden's chest, all the way to the hilt.

The Warden gasped. Blood bubbled from his mouth.

Then he was still.

Axel yanked his sword free and stood over the body, chest heaving. Behind him, the last Nomad fell to Daryl's knife. Blood dripped from the crossbow hunter's face.

They didn't speak for a moment. Just stood there in the silence of the slaughter.

Then Daryl asked, "That him?"

Axel nodded once. "Yeah."

Daryl glanced at the carnage. "You good?"

Axel looked down at the Warden's corpse.

"No."

He turned toward the door.

"But I'm done."

---

The sun was rising when they stepped out of the burned-out hive.

Blood was still drying on Axel's sleeves. His katana hung loose in his hand, the tip dragging across the dirt. Daryl walked beside him, silent, his crossbow slung over his back and a gash across his temple. Neither man spoke.

They didn't need to.

The road back was long and quiet. Trees whispered in the wind. Birds had started singing again, as if the land had forgotten what happened last night. As if it wasn't soaked in blood just hours ago.

But Axel hadn't forgotten.

He could still see the girl's face—the one they couldn't save. The look in her hollow eyes before he ended it. The Warden's final breath. The monsters they had buried. The screams. The silence.

He breathed deep and kept walking.

"You did what you had to," Daryl finally muttered.

Axel didn't look at him. "I know."

Daryl looked ahead. "Don't mean it was easy."

"It's never easy," Axel said. "But it's done."

Hours passed. The road opened wider, and soon, in the distance, the gates of Alexandria rose like an old friend. People were already gathering on the wall. They'd seen them coming.

Axel's pace slowed just a little.

Daryl gave him a side glance. "You sure you're ready?"

"No."

Axel stopped walking, just for a second. Then he sheathed his katana and started again.

"But I'm going in anyway."

The gates opened without a word. Rick was there, arms crossed, eyes watching. Michonne stood beside him, unreadable. Others—Aaron, Gabriel, Judith, even Eugene—looked on in silence.

But Axel only looked for one person.

Maggie.

She wasn't at the gate.

Carl stepped forward, his voice quiet. "She's resting."

Axel nodded, swallowing hard.

Rick spoke. "You find who did it?"

Axel looked him dead in the eye. "They're all gone."

No one cheered. No one clapped.

But there was a quiet understanding. A respect. And, in some, a bit of fear.

He and Daryl walked past them without another word. The gates closed behind them.

They were home.

And everything had changed again.

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