Savior in Shadow Slave

Curious about the new ability, Murphy summoned his runes with a flick of thought, the glowing symbols circling his palm like orbiting moons.

His eyes scanned the inscription.

And then—his smile froze. Just for a heartbeat.

Before blooming into a quiet, breathless laugh.

Then it grew.

Not manic. Not forced.

But the kind of laughter that came from something deep and long-awaited. As if the universe, for once, had handed him the exact thing he'd been clawing toward all this time.

"Really… something I wanted," he whispered, still chuckling.

Akame, watching from a few steps away, narrowed her eyes with concern.

"…He's laughing out of nowhere," she muttered, resting her hand on the hilt of her sword. "Great. He's finally gone mad."

She sighed, shaking her head.

***

3rd day of Hell.

The street was too quiet.

No wind. No howls. Just silence—and the faint scent of ash and blooming nightshade. Murphy's grip tightened on [Rengoku] as he motioned for Akame to follow, crouching low beside a broken archway.

"There," he whispered.

Across a ruined building, seated atop a throne of bones and sinew, the Awakened Devil watched them. Its form was lean and vaguely humanoid—but wrong in every way. Its flesh flowed like pale smoke, limbs stretched too long, and its face flickered like a dying candle. Its eyes were hollow yet deep, as if staring into them could peel the soul straight out of you.

Akame's hand hovered near the hilt of her greatsword.

"What's the plan?"

"We go fast, hard, and don't let it speak."

She squinted at him. "Did you… age just now?"

"It's your imagination."

"But—"

"Let's go."

They broke cover.

Murphy shot forward like a golden spear, crossing the courtyard in a heartbeat. Akame followed, two steps behind, activating her cloak's levitation to leap over debris and reach high ground.

The Devil didn't move. Didn't flinch.

Murphy struck first.

CLANG!

His blade met a makeshift shield—likely looted from a fallen beast. Akame took the chance to leap down, her greatsword arcing like a guillotine. The impact shattered the Devil's throne and drove the creature into the stone floor.

Dust exploded.

Murphy didn't pause. He lunged, stabbing toward the heart—But his blade passed through mist.

"Damn it—it's not solid!" he growled, sliding back.

The Devil reappeared three paces away, hovering just above the ground, legs dangling like torn threads. Its voice didn't come from its mouth—but echoed directly into their minds.

"Why run from what you long to see?"

Akame staggered, just for a second.

Murphy's eyes snapped toward her.

"Don't listen. Guard your mind!"

But it was already too late.

The Devil's eyes flared with pale, unnatural light—and the world twisted.

Murphy felt it—A pull, deep and inescapable. Not on his body, but on his thoughts.

Akame's sword clattered to the ground.

"Akame!" Murphy shouted, spinning—But the alley was gone.

And then…

He was somewhere else.

And... just as he expected—Murphy was fully aware that this was an illusion. He could break out of it easily, if he wanted to.

'A mere Awakened Devil trying to enthrall me? At least be a Supreme if you want a chance.'

But he didn't leave. Not immediately. He was curious—what would the Devil try to show him? Good memories? Bad ones? Or both?

He looked around.

He was seated at a small dining table, eating a quiet and awkward breakfast with his parents.

The silence lingered but that doesn't mean it was heavy. Instead, it was soothing and calming

'This... this was right after I returned from my First Nightmare.'

The memory flickered.

Suddenly, he was in a child's body—barely three years old—running through a ruined city nestled in the forest. Laughter rang beside him. A beautiful woman, draped in flowing black, kept pace with efforts.

Kaenaria.

His breath caught. His eyes burned. He didn't blink. It hurt to see her… like this.

The scene shattered again.

Now he stood in the Red Sea—though his body was no longer young. It was old. Weak. Breathing was effort. His voice cracked as he spoke to a shadowy figure—Apparition.

He talked of ideals, of loss, of meaning.

She smiled as she listened.

And for just a moment… the sea was still.

'Nasty bastard.'

Murphy waved his hand—and the illusion shattered like glass.

The ruined city returned in a blink. Cold, real, and unforgiving.

He glanced around—and saw Akame.

She was lying on the ground, her expression peaceful... far too peaceful. Both of her legs were half gone—gnawed away by the Devil.

Murphy stared. And for a moment, he felt nothing.

Or he was supposed to feel nothing.

But instead, rage boiled inside him—like a volcano bursting through the seams of a dead heart.

"You've got quite the guts," he said coldly.

The Devil flinched at his voice. It hesitated—then shrieked and lunged, a blur of pale mist and claws, slashing straight for his throat.

Murphy didn't move.

The claw connected—but all it left behind was a scratch. Thin. Shallow. Insignificant.

Not because Murphy had suddenly become some godlike existence—But because, for the first time…

Someone had broken its mental curse.

And that terrified the Devil more than death.

[Terror] had activated at full force—its power overwhelming. The Devil's damage was reduced to a mere 5%, its instincts screaming in primal fear.

Seeing its failure, it turned and tried to flee—But how could it?

Murphy was already there.

He grabbed its arms. The Devil didn't even realize until it was too late.

"One month," he muttered.

Golden light surged through him—raw and blinding. The glow of sacrificed time.

And then—with a twist of his hands—Murphy tore the Devil apart. Bone, sinew, and illusion alike shredded into nothing.

[You have slain an Awakened Devil: Geist]

[You have gained 4 souls.]

[Total Souls: 183.]

Thinking the illusion had finally lifted, Murphy rushed to Akame's side—only to find her still peacefully asleep.

Her expression was calm, even serene, as if caught in a quiet dream far away from the blood-soaked street.

[Granite Veil] shimmered faintly across her body, working relentlessly—dispersing the catastrophic damage from her half-destroyed legs to the rest of her frame.

Murphy knelt beside her, brushing a bit of ash from her forehead.

'What a troublesome pupil…' he thought, a half-sigh, half-smile tugging at his lips.

'I could deactivate it, but… let her dream a bit longer. She'll wake on her own now that the devil's dead.'

He reached out.

One month.

Golden radiance bloomed from his hand, cascading down like sunlight filtered through glass. The light wrapped around her like a warm blanket—reknitting muscle, restoring bone, softening pain. Her body mended under its touch. Her legs returned, strong and whole once more. The hidden injuries, scattered across her form by the relentless redistribution of [Granite Veil], vanished as if they had never been.

When it was done, she looked peaceful… but still didn't stir.

Murphy sighed again—quiet and full of something tender.

Without a word, he leaned down and gently lifted her onto his back. She slumped against him, arms dangling lightly over his shoulders, her breath steady against his neck.

He carried her.

Through the broken streets of the Dark City, under the dark sky and through the ash-choked air, Murphy walked. Toward the cathedral. Toward whatever hell awaited them next.

And as the ruins passed them by, Akame kept dreaming.

In her dream, she watched it.

Every word Murphy had ever spoken to her. Every silent glance. Every wound taken in her place.

Every impossible thing he did.

She saw all of it now. Clearly.

And she smiled. A soft, beautiful smile—the kind that only bloomed in dreams.

Because in her heart, she knew:

She was safe.

He was still walking. And she would follow, soon enough.

***

The ruined city had only just begun to gleam under the first light of dawn.

The sky above was bleeding amber, casting jagged shadows across the skeletal towers and broken arches. Up on a high rooftop, Murphy and Akame stood still, watching the air itself ripple.

"There," Murphy whispered, pointing to a distortion gliding silently through the open sky.

Akame narrowed her eyes. "That's the bat?"

The ripple moved across the silhouette of a shattered tower—and its form sharpened. Wings, thin and vast, fluttered like translucent silk. Its body was barely more than a wisp. No eyes, no mouth, no claws. Just a bulbous head and that dreadful emptiness between its wings.

"It's not a flier," Akame murmured. "It's a wraith with wings."

Murphy nodded. "And it's too high for you to reach. I would have originally damaged its wings and had made you finish it in order to gain a memory but now there is no need. Which is why…"

He stepped forward.

From his soul, a faint shimmer bloomed—like the air itself was bending around him. And then, slowly, two luminous wings unfurled from his back.

Radiant, beautiful, and holy—like the twin blades of an angel carved from dawn and dusk.

Akame's breath caught in her throat. She'd never seen this side of him before.

[Wings of Nirvana]

An Attribute granted by Nether.

Attribute Description: "These are Nether's dreadful wings—wings that once devoured the sky in boundless darkness and drowned the world in howling mist.

Now, they are yours.

Gifted through his curiosity, shaped by his fondness, they manifest your elemental nature in its fullest, most terrifying glory."

'With these wings the bat is pretty useless.'

Murphy said nothing.

With a single step, the ground cracked—and he soared into the sky.

No shockwave. No sound. Just a blur of gold against the amber sky, rising faster than the bat could ever hope to react.

He curved through the air, graceful and fluid, and in one swift motion, he sliced across the bat's path. [Rengoku] was drawn. Its golden edge trailed a line of light through the air.

The bat's wing shimmered under the strike. It tried to twist, to evade—but it was too slow.

The blade struck true.

A ripple passed through the sky as if someone had torn a page from reality itself. The bat let out no cry—only began to fall, body unraveling midair.

Murphy didn't give it time to crash.

He dove.

Wings folded. A trail of heat and light followed him like a falling star. He spun midair, slashing upward just as the bat passed beneath him.

A second strike.

A clean arc of gold.

The creature's form flickered. Folded. Then burst apart like mist catching fire.

Ash and translucent feathers drifted down.

[You have slain an Awakened Beast: Morbifang]

[You have gained 1 soul.]

[Total Souls: 184.]

Murphy landed silently, his wings folding behind him like fading memory. He stood still for a breath, then sheathed [Rengoku] with a soft click.

Akame dropped down beside him moments later, landing light on her feet.

"It's dead," she said.

He nodded. "It is."

She looked at him. Really looked.

There was no bravado in his stance. No triumph.

Only calm. Only light.

"…That was beautiful," she murmured.

He didn't respond, but a flicker of something passed across his face.

High above them, the sky turned fully gold. The Last day of hell was nearly over.

And for once, the city felt a little less ruined.