Savior in Shadow Slave

First Day of Hell.

The ruins trembled under a heavy silence as Murphy and Akame crouched behind a broken archway.

Then—

Crack... crack... crack.

It was approaching.

From the shadows emerged a skeletal colossus, nearly three meters tall. Its body was a grotesque lattice of bone, constantly shifting, like it couldn't decide what shape to take. Its ribcage yawned open and closed slowly, and its spine writhed like a serpent—each vertebra subtly out of place. The very air around it seemed to hum with tension, as if the world itself rejected its existence.

Murphy's voice was low and steady.

"Bone Warden. Fallen-class. Adaptive defense and offense via skeletal restructuring. I hit, you read the response. If it softens—strike. If it hardens—dodge. We move together."

Akame nodded, grip firm on her greatsword. Beneath her tattered cloak, her [Granite Veil] pulsed faintly, ready.

"Got it."

"One more thing," Murphy added. "If it regains posture, it'll start flailing with its ribcage. That's when it gets ugly."

The Bone Warden halted mid-step. Its skull twisted unnaturally, like a puppet testing its strings. Then, from deep within its chest—not its throat—came a hollow screech, the sound of bone grinding bone.

And it charged.

Like an avalanche of ivory, it lunged forward. The ground split beneath its feet as its arms warped—one extending into a crude bone-lance, the other ballooning into a malformed shield.

Murphy darted forward, low and fast.

[Rengoku] ignited in his grip, golden radiance flashing as he slammed it into the shield-arm.

CLANG!

The sound echoed like tombstones colliding.

It had hardened—absorbing the full force. Murphy's blade juddered in his hands.

"Akame—flank it!"

She was already moving. Vaulting over debris, she slashed toward the creature's rear knee.

The blade sank in—

—but the leg compressed like sponge.

Too soft.

The blow was absorbed. The Warden twisted, spine snapping back to center, and struck with a wide sweep of its shield-arm.

Boom!

Akame barely managed to block.

The impact hurled her across the alley into a heap of rubble. Her lungs emptied with the crash, but her [Granite Veil] flared, absorbing the focused damage and spreading it across her body.

She screamed—not from injury, but from searing, all-consuming pain. It felt like every nerve in her skin had been struck.

But it worked. Her Aspect [Aegis] activated—returning the force back at the Warden, twice over.

Murphy blurred from sight and reappeared above the Warden mid-recoil.

[Rengoku] came down—aiming for the shoulder.

The monster's bones stiffened just in time. The sword sliced shallow, sparks flaring but not biting deep enough.

Murphy landed in a roll, skidding backward.

"You alive?" he called.

"Barely!" Akame yelled from behind a shattered pillar. "But I'm up!"

"Good! Keep the pressure—we force mistakes!"

She rejoined the fight, blood on her lips, but fire in her eyes. Her sword moved with new rhythm—each swing probing, forcing decisions.

Harden or soften?

Murphy wove around the Warden like smoke—exploiting every opening Akame created. A knee. An elbow. A blind spot behind the ribs.

Slash. Bend. Block. Riposte.

Then—the mistake.

The Warden hardened both arms to block simultaneous strikes.

For a half-second, it couldn't shift its ribcage.

Murphy saw it.

"Now!"

Akame leapt—spinning in the air—her blade crashing down like a divine verdict, aimed straight at the sternum.

CRRRRACK!

The ribcage shattered inward like collapsing scaffolding.

Murphy was already behind it.

[Rengoku] swept in a wide arc—severing the spine.

The Warden shuddered once…Then fell.

Its bones calcified in real time—locking forever in death.

Using this opportunity, Murphy attempted to record Bone Warden's attribute but to no avail.

'Sigh, knew it.'

Silence.

[You have slain a Fallen Monster: Bone Warden.]

[You have gained 2 souls.]

[176 Souls.]

Maddening whispers started roaring in his head but he subdued it for now.

Murphy looked over. Akame sat on the ground, panting, her cloak scorched and armor cracked.

"…Yours," he said, handing her both the faintly glowing shard.

Akame blinked. "But—"

"You cracked the chest. I just helped finish it."

She took the shards, hands trembling, cheeks flushed with something. Most likely between adrenaline and pride.

"Thanks."

Murphy allowed himself the faintest smile.

"Use it. We've got three more days of this hell."

Akame lay back on the bone-strewn floor. Bone-dust swirled around her like ash. She looked up at the cold, colourless sky… and chuckled weakly.

"…I'm starting to get used to this."

***

Second Day of Hell.

Deep within the shadowed veins of the Dark City, at a nameless, crumbling street, a towering monolith of stone stood still—silent, unmoving. Humanoid in form but far larger than any man, it loomed like a forgotten god of war. Clad in ancient, cracked stone armor, it bore a massive round shield and a sword hewn from the same material. Where eyes should have been, two rubies blazed with unwavering crimson flame.

A Stone Saint.

Born not for peace—but for unending war.

Murphy stood across from it, [Rengoku] half-drawn at his side, the moonlight dancing across its faint glow. Beside him, Akame stood poised, her greatsword slung across her back, breath steady, muscles taut.

"Remember," Murphy muttered, his eyes fixed on the beast. "Don't expect it to bleed. It doesn't feel pain. Doesn't feel fear. It moves like a statue—until it doesn't."

The Saint's gaze locked onto them.

Then it moved.

With a grinding crunch of stone, it surged forward, far faster than its size should allow. Its shield came crashing down like a warhammer. Murphy barely sidestepped in time—tiles beneath him exploded from the force, shrouding the street in dust.

Akame dove and rolled, wide-eyed. "It's fast!"

"They always are," Murphy replied coldly.

He lunged low, slashing across the Saint's shoulder. Sparks flew—[Rengoku] met stone and skated off, leaving only a shallow mark. The creature didn't flinch. Its elbow whipped toward him—raw, brutal force. Murphy ducked under it, kicked off the Saint's leg, and backed away.

Akame charged in, leaping high and bringing her greatsword down in a cleaving arc. The blade struck hard—deeper this time—and the Saint staggered.

Then it roared.

Not a cry of pain, but a sound like two mountains grinding against one another.

Its shield whipped out, slamming into Akame's midsection. Her [Granite Veil] shimmered, dispersing the impact across her body—but the pain was electric. She was flung into a ruined pillar, breath stolen from her lungs.

Murphy narrowed his eyes. "Time to focus."

He sacrificed 2 weeks of his time.

Golden light wrapped around his body. The world slowed around him as he accelerated—faster, sharper, colder. In the blink of an eye, he was behind the Saint, [Rengoku] sinking into its back. This time it pierced fully. He twisted, golden radiance erupting through the fracture.

The Stone Saint spun, its massive hand wrapping around Murphy's torso, lifting him like a doll. Its grip crushed inwards. Murphy gritted his teeth—no panic, only precision.

He stabbed the Saint's palm. Fire exploded from the blade's edge.

The grip loosened.

"Akame! Now!"

Still reeling, Akame forced herself up. Her eyes sharpened.

She roared and charged, her blade crashing into the Saint's knee just above the joint. The crack echoed like thunder. The leg buckled. The Saint dropped to one knee.

Murphy twisted free, coughed blood, and drove [Rengoku] into its chest. A deep fracture snaked outward.

The Saint retaliated with a headbutt—slamming into his shoulder. There was a sickening pop as it dislocated. Murphy crashed into a wall, slammed himself hard to reset the joint, and didn't stop.

Now side by side, they fought.

Murphy and Akame attacked in tandem, blades flashing through the dust-choked street. Each strike chipped away more of the Saint's armor. Hairline cracks spread like spiderwebs across its frame. It didn't slow—but its stability bled out with every step.

"Push it back!" Murphy shouted.

Akame struck first—knocking its arm wide.

Murphy leapt, blade trailing golden light.

He sacrificed another 2 weeks.

[Rengoku] cleaved through the neck—clean, radiant, final.

The Stone Saint stood for one breath more… and collapsed.

First the head. Then the shoulders. Then the entire body caved inward like a ruined cathedral.

Murphy reached out with [Kalpata], attempting to record its Attribute—but the attempt failed.

The silence returned.

[You have slain an Awakened Demon: Stone Saint.]

[You have gained 3 souls.]

[Total Souls: 179.]

Murphy exhaled, shoulder bleeding, lungs burning. The whispers began again—maddening, rhythmic, familiar.

Akame limped toward him, bruised but standing.

"No Memory?" she asked, half-teasing.

Murphy sheathed [Rengoku], shaking his head. "Didn't want one. Just wanted it dead."

And they stood there, in the dusty stillness, watching the stone settle back into silence.

Another day survived.

Another war won.

Another story written in blood and stone.

But this time, there was a reward. Not a Memory. Not some fragment of power.

But something far sweeter—The story.

The one Murphy had waited to hear.

The story of the Stone Saints. The story of the war that never ended.

The story… of Nether.

It came not as a voice, but as a pulse.