Savior in Shadow Slave

Murphy and Akame sat in silence, the only sound in the room the faint crackle of fire and the occasional clink of metal as Murphy chewed thoughtfully on a slab of meat he'd hunted on the way back.

Akame kept fidgeting, shifting in her seat, her eyes darting between Murphy and the floor—as if something was clawing at the back of her mind, desperate to be asked.

Finally, she blurted it out.

"Hey, Murphy… just how strong are you? I mean—if you really went all out, no holding back at all—what's the strongest thing you could kill?"

Murphy paused, the bite halfway to his mouth. His eyes narrowed in thought, as if digging through layers of memory and bloodshed.

After a long moment, he answered.

"If I went all out… everything I've got, no reservations…" he looked at her with calm certainty, "I could kill a Corrupted Tyrant. Maybe even a Corrupted Terror. Depends on what kind of abilities it has."

Akame's eyes widened just a little. That was not the answer she'd expected.

"…You're terrifying," she muttered.

"Well then, learn to respect me," Murphy said, smirking slightly.

Akame raised an eyebrow. "Alright. What's the price?"

"I'll tell you something. A few things, actually. It'll help you understand."

"Fine. I'm listening."

"What I'm going to tell you is the truth of creation. Not the full thing—but a filtered version."

"Filtered? Why not tell me the real deal?"

Murphy's eyes darkened, just a little. "Because if I did, you'd die."

Akame blinked.

"Not a figure of speech," he continued. "Your head would literally explode. Or worse—if you survived, the pain would be constant. A curse. You'd wish for death every moment after."

Akame slowly nodded, her teasing gone. "...Okay then. Filtered version sounds good."

Murphy leaned back against the wall, eyes distant.

"In the beginning," he said slowly, "there was just chaos. No sky, no land. Just a shifting, formless void. And in that void… there were things. Old, terrible things."

Akame sat still, listening intently.

"But then something changed. Desire appeared. That want for something more. Something different. And from that—gods were born."

"Desire made gods?" Akame asked, frowning slightly.

Murphy nodded. "Yeah. They weren't divine in the way stories paint them. More like… forces that decided to act. They didn't like the chaos they came from. So they turned on it."

"And the things already living in the chaos?" she asked.

"They fought them. A war—longer than time itself. The gods used concepts as weapons. Death. Time. Space. That's what they fought with. Not swords or fire. Just... ideas that could kill."

Akame's brow furrowed. "That's terrifying."

"It was," Murphy said. "But eventually, the gods won. They didn't destroy the void completely, though. Instead, they wrapped their direction—order—around it. Like putting a cage around a wild animal."

Akame tilted her head. "And that cage became... the world?"

"Exactly." He looked at her. "That's how everything began. Not some grand act of creation, not love or kindness—just a war. And a desire to escape the void they came from."

She stared at him, quiet for a moment. Then said, "So the gods are just... rebels against their birthplace?"

"Pretty much."

"That's a messed-up origin story."

Murphy smirked. "Welcome to reality."

"So basically," Akame said slowly, "everything around us—the grass, the air, the water—it's all just a cage to keep the void locked away?"

Murphy nodded. "Correct."

She leaned back, thinking. "Alright… then who are these gods? Where are they now? And how does this tie into your 'price'?"

Murphy's gaze drifted to the cracked ceiling above. "That's what I was getting to. There were six gods. Each one tied to a piece of reality, to a concept strong enough to shape the world."

He raised a finger for each one he named.

"First, the Sun God—Lord of Light. Embodiment of fire, passion, creation… and destruction.

"Then, the War God. A complex one—goddess of war, of life, of craft, intellect, progress, and humanity itself. She's the patron of invention and survival.

"The Shadow God—quiet, calm. God of death, peace, mysteries, and endings.

"Beast God—goddess of the moon, hunting, desire, blood, and beauty. She governs the cycle of life and death.

"Then there's the Storm God—ruler of oceans, stars, travel, darkness, disaster... the unknown depths.

"And finally, the Heart God—god of souls, emotions, memories, hunger, and growth."

He paused, letting the weight of the list settle between them.

"And me… I carry the blood of the Beast God," he said, tapping his chest. "It makes my body different. Stronger. Even among Awakened, physically, I stand above most."

Akame's eyes widened a little. "You're not the only one like this, are you?"

Murphy gave a slight smile. "No. There are others. The blood of gods didn't just end up with me."

He started listing again.

"Valor has the lineage of the War God. The Song Clan shares my bloodline—the Beast God's. That guy from Broken Sword's team—Asterion—he's got the Heart God's lineage. The Nightwalkers carry the Storm God's blood. Immortal Flame bears the legacy of the Sun God."

He leaned forward, voice lowering.

"But the lineage of the Shadow God? No sign of it yet."

Akame sat there for a moment, quietly absorbing it all. Then, in a smaller voice:

"…That's a lot to take in."

"Yes, this divine lineage makes me physically stronger," Murphy said, stretching his fingers slightly. "And now, the power of light I wield—both healing and destructive—can only be used at a cost."

Akame tilted her head. "At the cost of… what? Your life?"

He nodded. "Correct. It consumes my time. Every time I use that power, I trade a portion of my future for it."

Her brows furrowed. "So if you give everything… if you sacrificed it all in a fight—"

"I could kill a Corrupted Tyrant," Murphy finished for her, "and maybe even a Corrupted Terror… depending on what it is. But—"

"You'd grow old and die," she said softly.

He gave a small smile. "Correct again."

Akame frowned, thinking back. "But… you've been using it a lot lately. Doesn't that mean you're—?"

"No. It's not that simple," Murphy interrupted gently. "If I keep the usage under a year and a half, I can recover it in a day—reset it back to normal. My body can restore the time I've lost, as long as it's within that range."

"And if it goes past that?"

He paused, gaze distant.

"Then the loss becomes permanent."

"So… there's no way to restore it?" Akame asked quietly.

"There is," Murphy replied, his tone calm but heavy. "But I can only do that once a year."

Akame's lips parted slightly, the question at the edge of her tongue—How much time do you have left? But she didn't ask. She knew better. She respected his silence, even if it ached.

Instead, she shifted the subject.

"So, when do we leave this city? To search for the others?"

Murphy looked out toward the crumbling skyline, where shadows clung stubbornly to the broken stone.

"Tomorrow morning," he said. "When the Dark Sea retreats… and the sun rises."

"Why that time?" Akame asked.

"Because that's when the Dark Sea pulls back," Murphy replied. "The creatures of the land start waking up, but they're sluggish at first. For a short while, it's a kind of green zone. Safer to move."

Akame nodded. "Got it."

***

The sun had only just breached the jagged horizon, casting soft, amber rays across the ruined cityscape. Below, the Dark Sea writhed like a living stain, its ink-black waters receding slowly—as if dragging the night with it.

Murphy stood at the edge of a crumbling tower, Akame in his arms in a princess carry. Her cloak fluttered in the high wind. She clung to his shoulder without a word, eyes wide as she looked down at the sea of darkness below.

"Ready?" he asked, voice calm.

"...This is so embarrassing," she muttered, cheeks red.

"You'll live."

Then—the wings unfurled.

From Murphy's back exploded two radiant wings, vast and otherworldly. They shimmered like glass and shadow and golden fire all at once—[Wings of Nirvana]. The air bent around them as they lifted off, weightless yet powerful.

They soared high over the ruins, and the Dark Sea beneath them hissed, recoiling from the light of his wings. Akame's breath caught in her throat. The world looked so different from above—still broken, still bleak, but almost beautiful.

"I never imagined this place could look like this," she whispered.

Murphy didn't answer.

Just as they flew for a bit, they heard a sound.

A ripple. A buzz. A shadow.

From the west, a storm approached—not of wind, but of wings.

A vast flock of locust-like creatures burst out of a fissure in the cliffs. Dozens—no, hundreds. Their forms shimmered with hardened chitin, long hooked legs and serrated mandibles clicking hungrily. They flew in chaotic waves, each easily the size of a man, each exuding the unmistakable pressure of Awakened Beasts.

"Murphy—!" Akame started.

"I see them."

He turned sharply in the air, wings slicing through the wind. The swarm changed course instantly—drawn to his light, chasing it like moths chasing fire.

"We can't outrun them like this!" Akame shouted over the rising hum.

"No," Murphy murmured, "we can't."

Then, without hesitation, he sacrificed five years.

The world slowed. Golden radiance erupted from his skin, burning along his arms and through the veins of his wings. Time peeled away like smoke, replaced by the weight of pure purpose.

His voice was quiet but resolute. "Hold on tight."

The wings pulsed—once.

And the sky split open.

Murphy became a streak of golden fury, diving into the heart of the swarm. Each flap of his wings shattered the air. [Wings of Nirvana] transformed—stretching, refracting, growing tendrils of light and shadow that whipped like blades.

He passed through the first wave—and thirteen locusts were bisected mid-air.

[You have slain an Awakened Beast, Flesh Reaver]

[You have slain an Awakened Beast, Flesh Reaver]

[You have slain an Awakened Beast, Flesh Reaver]

This voice resounded in his ears for 13 times.

Akame couldn't even scream. The speed, the force—her body trembled from the sheer magnitude of energy flowing through his.

He moved like a storm given form.

Searing beams of golden light spiraled from his wings. With a twist, he summoned a barrage of slashes in all directions. Every creature within reach exploded in radiant light, their charred husks raining down into the receding Dark Sea below.

Still, more came.

The sky had become a battlefield.

Akame saw his face through it all—calm. Not distant, not focused, but utterly cold.

Then she heard him speak—not to her, but to the beasts.

"You should have stayed in your hole."

He let go with one arm and summoned swords of light.

One heartbeat.

Seventy-two strikes in one second.

A spiral of golden arcs tore through the sky. The remaining locusts tried to scatter—but time had already turned against them. They were caught in a storm they could never match.

[You have slain an Awakened Beast, Flesh Reaver]

This voice kept on resounding in his head.

And when it ended—nothing remained in the air but smoke, gold embers, and silence.

[296 Souls]

Murphy's wings faltered slightly as they returned to steady flight. His breathing was sharp now, labored. His skin had paled, and faint crow's feet formed at the corners of his eyes.

Akame stared at him—terrified, amazed, silent.

And coupled with his now mature face of a 19 years youth. It only made her more silent.

"You okay?" he asked, without looking.

She nodded.

And then said, softly, "How much did you use?"

"5 years."

"…Worth it?"

Murphy looked up at the sky, at the fleeing sun above the ruin.

"It protected you. So yeah, it was worth it."

Hearing this, her face became as red as tomato.

They flew on—gliding above the still-sleeping world. Alone. Alive. Together.

And far below, the Dark Sea shimmered with something like reverence.