Savior in Shadow Slave

Akame turned from the window and looked at Murphy, arms crossed, her posture defensive.

Her voice, though steady, carried a thin thread of tension.

"So… what's the plan?"

Murphy studied her for a moment before responding with a question of his own. His voice was calm, almost casual.

"When was the last time you ate?"

Her eyes flicked away. A slight pause. Then, with a hint of embarrassment—

"...Two days ago."

Murphy blinked. His expression shifted—subtle confusion growing into something closer to concern.

"Wait—shouldn't you have arrived just yesterday?"

That single detail rang alarm bells in his mind.

'Could I have arrived later than the others? If so, by how many days? Judging by her condition… maybe not more than three?'

His mind raced, calculations firing—timelines, variables, deviations from canon—until Akame suddenly spoke again, too quickly:

"Ah—yes, I came yesterday, but I was nervous, okay? Couldn't eat anything."

Murphy stared at her.

And then something in him snapped.

"YOU. CAME. TO THE DREAM REALM. ON AN EMPTY STOMACH!?"

His voice echoed off the cathedral walls.

He pointed at her as if accusing her of a war crime.

"What were you thinking? Was this your first date or something!?"

Akame recoiled slightly, caught between surprise and shame.

"Wha—! No!"

Murphy rubbed his temples in exasperation, pacing once in a tight circle.

"Great. Just fantastic. I save a girl who thought starving herself before a life-or-death survival trial was a good tactical decision."

Akame muttered under her breath,

"Well, when you say it like that it sounds dumb."

"It is dumb!" Murphy snapped. Then sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Alright. Fine. First things first—we eat. Then we talk about survival."

The cathedral had fallen quiet again.

Dust floated in the light leaking through the stained glass above, casting fractured colors across the stone floor. The chaos and shouting had passed, leaving only the low crackle of a small, flickering fire Murphy had managed to light in a broken urn near the wall.

They sat across from each other—Murphy cross-legged, Akame with her knees drawn up.

Between them: a piece of cloth laid out, a few cuts of seared meat resting on it.

Murphy passed one over to her.

"It's not exactly gourmet. But it won't kill you."

Akame took the meat with both hands. She hesitated—then nodded.

"Thank you."

There was no sarcasm. No guarded tone. Just quiet sincerity.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, the sound of chewing and fire crackling filling the space.

Outside, the city still groaned and breathed its twisted rhythm. But here, for now, it felt… tolerable.

Akame glanced at him once. Then again.

"You're good at this," she said finally.

"The surviving part."

Murphy gave a faint smile.

"Been doing it a while. In different ways. Also learned in the Academy."

Another moment passed. Then Akame looked down at her food, voice softer now.

"I thought I was going to die."

Murphy didn't look surprised. He didn't interrupt, either.

"When the troll found me… I wasn't ready. I thought I was."

Her knuckles tightened slightly around the meat.

"But I froze."

Murphy chewed quietly, then replied without judgment.

"Everyone freezes against an overwhelming foe. The smart ones admit it."

Akame gave a small, tired smile.

"You don't seem like someone who ever freezes."

He looked down at the fire, voice quieter.

"I must have done it too."

He didn't elaborate. And she didn't ask.

Somehow, that was enough.

They finished eating in silence again, more comfortable this time. Two people who had nothing in common—except that they were both still breathing.

And in this place, that was already more than most.

After finishing their quiet meal, the cathedral slipped into silence once more—only the soft pop of firewood filled the space.

Murphy leaned back, arms resting loosely over his knees. His eyes stayed on Akame.

"So," he asked casually, "What are you good at?"

Akame hesitated. Her gaze dropped for a moment, fingers tightening around her now-empty cloth wrap.

"Nothing," she said plainly.

"Didn't have the money to learn anything. Just… survived. I got some sword basics in my First Nightmare, and one month of training from a government-funded instructor before this."

She looked at him, a little defiant.

"That's all."

Murphy nodded, not judging.

"I see."

Then added with a small grin,

"I know my way around a sword pretty well."

Her lips twitched, but she said nothing.

Murphy tilted his head.

"What are your attributes?"

That got her attention.

Her posture immediately shifted—shoulders tense, eyes narrowing. One hand crept behind her back, fingers brushing the edge of a summoned memory.

Murphy held up both palms.

"Easy. I'm not asking for your secrets. Just a rough idea."

"Our survival might depend on understanding what we can do."

A long pause. Then, slowly, she relaxed. Just a little.

"You first."

Murphy nodded.

"I possess a rare attribute: the more someone fears me, the weaker their attacks become."

"I also have divine affinity."

"And an attribute that allows me to see truth."

Akame stared at him, lips parted slightly.

"You're carrying… three high-tier attributes?"

Murphy shrugged, a flicker of pride in his tone.

"Killed a Fallen Beast that almost ripped you in half. Obviously I'm not normal."

She blinked, then asked carefully,

"How did you heal me?"

Murphy smirked. "Now it's your turn."

Akame hesitated again—but this time, only briefly.

"I have a rare attribute called Weapon Prodigy. And faint divine affinity."

Murphy froze. His eyes widened slightly as the words sank in.

'Weapon Prodigy...'

He studied her more closely now, gaze sharper.

'That's dangerously close to the Stone Saint's trait. Probably a diluted version—but still... she can master any weapon she started learning.'

He leaned back with a quiet whistle.

"Huh. No wonder you didn't die when fighting the troll."

Akame raised an eyebrow.

"Thought you said I almost got ripped in half."

Murphy gave her a dry look.

"I was being polite."

For the first time, a faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

"So, what's your Aspect?" Akame asked, watching Murphy from across the flickering fire.

"Healing. And augmentation," Murphy replied simply.

"But the augment only works on me."

Her brows lifted.

"That's rare. If we ever get out of here, you could go far."

Murphy gave a small shrug.

"Anyone who escapes from this hell will go far."

She nodded slightly, then offered her own.

"Mine lets me counter physical damage... but only if I take the full hit first."

Murphy raised an eyebrow, a crooked smile forming.

"So you're basically a top-tier meat shield."

Akame coughed.

"Ahem. Well… now that you put it like that, yeah."

"Useful." Murphy glanced at her.

"How much of your core is saturated?"

"Not even two percent."

"I'm about double that," he said, already shifting his tone—calculated, efficient. "We need a plan."

He stood, pacing slowly as he outlined it.

"First, we get you Memories—defensive ones. I'll do the fighting for now. You watch, learn. At night, I'll teach you swordplay. If we find spears or bows, I'll show you those too—basic stuff."

"Your only job is to survive and absorb. Once you hit ten percent, we move as a pair."

Akame watched him carefully, uncertain.

"And you? What about your own saturation?"

Murphy turned to her, his voice firm.

"I'm already strong enough."

"The priority is making sure you're not a liability."

Her lips parted slightly.

"You're very charming."

"I am very correct."

A moment of silence passed.

"Honestly, I thought you would be surprised when hearing about the truth attribute. But you took it calmly."

Akame glanced him and said with a shrug.

"When you proposed that we shall speak about each others strength, I knew that you either possess a memory, Attribute or Aspect to learn the truth whether by mind reading or some other way."

"You are quite smart."

Then Murphy added, like a stone dropped in still water:

"All of the things I said before needs to happen within one month."

Akame stared at him, eyes wide.

"One month!? That's way too short!"

"I know," he said.

"But we're not the only humans pulled into this nightmare."

She fell silent.

Murphy's voice dropped—lower, darker.

"No matter how much of a survivalist someone is... even if they had divine Aspects, they won't last more than a month or two."

Akame swallowed.

"Then… why don't we go look for them now?"

Murphy didn't answer right away.

Then, coldly:

"You? As you are now? You'd just waste my time."

She blinked, hurt flickering behind her eyes—but she didn't understand.

She didn't catch the weight in his voice.

The fear behind his frustration.

The truth was that he didn't want to see another person die in front of him again.

Because of him.

But Murphy didn't explain.

He just turned away—Already planning tomorrow.