Survival in Akame ga kill

Amidst the dreadful battle, Zanku laughed, his eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. “You’re finished, Night Raider. Your stamina can’t keep up with your regeneration anymore.”

“Shut up, bitch!” Bane snarled through clenched teeth, trying to ignore the creeping fog of mental exhaustion. His gauntlets, manifesting as a second skin, were becoming a weight on his mind, clouding his thoughts.

“Ha ha! Let’s see if you’ll still be able to swear when I rip your head apart! Die!” Zanku roared, his voice echoing through the chapel. His eyes narrowed with intent, sensing his opponent’s vulnerability. 

Bane, now backed into a pillar and barely able to stand, was the perfect target. The time for mercy had long passed.

Zanku lunged forward with lethal precision, his katar gleaming in the moonlight as it slashed downward toward Bane’s head. 

The force of his attack was so intense that even the nearby stone pillars seemed to tremble under its pressure. But something unexpected happened. Zanku’s movement faltered, his body betraying him for the briefest moment.

That moment was all Bane needed.

With a grunt, Bane rolled away, escaping Zanku’s range as the katar struck the pillar behind him, carving a deep gash where his skull had been seconds earlier.

Zanku’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What...?” His voice was a mix of confusion and frustration. “Is blood loss affecting me?” His grip on the katar trembled, a subtle yet undeniable weakness creeping into his arm.

Bane, now standing a few paces away, his breath ragged, noticed the tremor. His sharp eyes narrowed. “Something wrong?” he asked.

Zanku’s face contorted with rage as he looked down at his shaking hand. His usual grace had evaporated, leaving his strikes slower, less precise. 

He lunged again, but this time, Bane dodged the wild swing and countered with a powerful blow to Zanku’s ribs. The force of the punch sent Zanku staggering backward, coughing up blood.

Zanku’s expression twisted in disbelief as he spat out more blood. “What’s happening to me?” he muttered, the frustration in his voice growing as his once-perfect stance faltered.

Bane watched as the first cracks appeared in Zanku’s relentless facade. 

“It seems like it’s beginning to take effect,” Bane said, his voice calm but deadly.

Zanku’s eyes snapped toward Bane, narrowing in fury. “What did you do to me?” he snarled, his voice shaking with equal parts rage and fear.

“Poison,” Bane replied, the single word cutting through the tension like a blade.

Zanku’s face twisted with shock and disbelief. “You... poisoned me? Since when?” His voice was a raw mixture of rage and confusion.

Bane’s lips curled into a wintry smile. “When you stabbed me in the neck,” he explained. “Instead of finishing me, you were too busy running your mouth.”

Zanku’s eyes darted to the deep gash on his arm, blood still flowing freely from the wound. Realisation dawned on him, and with it came the grim understanding that the gash Bane had inflicted had been laced with slow-acting poison from his Teigu, Jormungandr.

Zanku’s face flushed red with anger and humiliation. With a snarl of rage, he charged at Bane, his katar raised high, but his strikes were now wild and desperate. The poison was sapping his strength, dulling his once-perfect reflexes.

Bane sidestepped the erratic attack and countered with a devastating punch to Zanku’s ribs, sending the killer crashing into a nearby pew. The wood splintered under the impact, shards scattering across the floor.

Not giving Zanku any time to recover, Bane pressed his advantage, his movements now sharper and more controlled as Zanku’s foresight became less reliable. Bane dodged the sluggish swings of the katar with ease, his body moving with calculated precision.

“Hah… I’m not doing much better myself,” Bane muttered, his breath coming in heavy gasps. His own body was nearing its limit, the constant healing draining his stamina with each passing moment. He knew he had to end this quickly. “If this drags on any longer I can get in trouble.”

But across from him, Zanku was still standing, though barely. His body shook, his katar still gleaming despite the deep gash on his arm that had been spilling blood for minutes. His strikes grew more desperate, more erratic.

Bane dodged another wild swing and drove his knee into Zanku’s stomach, slamming him back against the pillar. Zanku gasped for air, his body trembling, his grip on the katar faltering.

Bane didn’t waste the opportunity. He pinned Zanku against the stone pillar and unleashed a barrage of heavy punches, each blow delivered with the full weight of his gauntlets.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

The entire pillar shuddered under the force of Bane’s relentless assault. Each punch smashed into Zanku, driving the killer deeper into the stone, blood splattering with every impact. But then, as Bane raised his fist for another strike, his strength suddenly faltered. His body, pushed to its absolute limit, refused to move. He gasped for air, his arms trembling violently, no longer able to respond to his will.

A sharp pain shot through Bane’s skull, and with a low groan, he clutched his head, stumbling back before collapsing onto the cold, blood-stained floor. His breathing came in labored, ragged gasps as the weight of exhaustion bore down on him.

Desperate for a reprieve, he shakily pulled out his last herbal cigarette, fumbling with the lighter before lighting it. He took a long, slow drag, the smoke calming his nerves. His body trembled as the tension momentarily eased.

“Guess you’re suffering the repercussions of using your Teigu’s regenerative powers, Night Raider,” a mocking voice echoed through the ruined chapel.

Bane’s eyes slowly refocused, and he looked up at Zanku, who had spoken. The assassin was still slumped against the pillar, his body a bruised and bloodied mess, yet somehow still able to taunt him. Blood poured from his wounds, his body barely holding together under the savage assault he’d endured.

“For you to need drugs to ease the symptoms, it seems your Teigu is muxh brutal than my Spectator,” Zanku sneered, blood dripping from his mouth. He swirled his tongue around his broken teeth before spitting them out onto the ground with a sickening splat.

Bane, still recovering from the mental strain, said nothing. The pounding in his skull was relentless, the manifestation of his gauntlets having taken its toll on his already battered mind. The herbal cigarette was a temporary relief, but the exhaustion still weighed heavily on him. His body and mind both screamed for rest.

Zanku coughed, his breath wet and shallow. “Hey… before you kill me, I want to ask you something,” he rasped, his voice weak but still carrying that mocking tone.

Bane, regaining control over his body, slowly pushed himself to his feet. His limbs felt heavy, but he forced himself to move forward, step by step, toward the dying man.

Zanku saw his death approaching and laughed, though the sound was hollow and pained. “You… you want to die too, don’t you?”

Hearing the madman’s statement Bane halted his steps.

Zanku’s bloody grin widened, his voice now a hoarse whisper. “I can see it… even behind that mask of yours. You don’t fool me. Your eyes… they say it all. You’re tired, aren’t you? Just like me… you feel the guilt, even if it’s a different kind than mine. But in the end… it’s all the same.”

Zanku coughed, blood bubbling from his lips as his strength began to fade. “After wearing a mask for so long… it stops hiding anything, doesn’t it? It just becomes… part of you.” He let out a weak, rasping laugh, his voice growing fainter. “I wore a mask too... a mask of madness... to silence the voices calling me from hell.”

Bane’s expression remained stoic, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. Slowly, he resumed walking, closing the distance between them. He had heard enough.

“I’ll be waiting for you in hell, Night Raider,” Zanku muttered with a faint smile as Bane loomed over him, gauntlets gleaming with the blood of their battle.

Without hesitation, Bane raised his fist and, with a final, fluid motion, drove his gauntlet into Zanku’s chest.

Squelch!

The sickening sound of metal piercing flesh echoed through the ruined chapel. Blood sprayed from the wound, and Bane’s gauntlet was soon slick with crimson. Zanku gasped in pain, his eyes wide as he felt his life slipping away.

“Those voices,” Bane said in a low, deliberate tone, “can you still hear them now?”

There was a brief silence as Zanku, his body trembling, struggled to respond. He coughed weakly, blood spilling from his mouth, before finally shaking his head. His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper. “N-No… they… they’ve stopped.”

Bane nodded slightly, his expression unreadable. With a final surge of strength, he twisted his gauntlet and crushed Zanku’s heart.

Squelch!

Zanku’s body convulsed violently as the last remnants of life left him. His breath slowed, and his eyes fluttered as darkness claimed him. His head lolled to the side, a faint, haunting smile still lingering on his bloodied lips.

“How… delightful…” Zanku whispered, his voice so faint it was almost lost in the stillness. And then, with one final, rattling breath, he was gone.

The chapel fell into a heavy, oppressive silence, broken only by the sound of Bane’s laboured breathing. He stood over Zanku’s lifeless body, his gauntlets soaked in blood.

The carnage was finally over.