Savior in Shadow Slave

While Murphy had already finished off the Carapace Demon, things on Elizabeth's side were going terribly wrong.

Elizabeth stood alone in the Ashen Barrow, her body half-shadowed by the branches of the tree. The air was thick—like breathing through wet cloth. Her hands trembled. Her lips were pale. Across from her, the sound began.

Click. Click. Click.

The sound of chitin scraping against stone.

Scavengers. Ten of them. Crawling from the abyssal cracks of the Crimson Coral Labyrinth, drawn by scent, heat… and something deeper.

Lust.

Her situation was bad. Way too bad.

In fact, it could be said this was the closest she had ever come to death—aside from her time in the Scavenger nest.

But this... this felt worse in some ways.

Because it wasn't just the pain or danger—it was them.

Scavengers.

Her mind shut down the moment she saw them crawl out from the cracks of the ashen barrow. Their chittering, their clicking, that grotesque stench—it all came flooding back, dredging up the buried screams in her soul.

It didn't matter how strong her Aspect was. It didn't matter that she had survived before. The monsters in front of her weren't enemies.

They were memories.

Dark tunnels. A nest of blood. Chains. Pain. Claws. Eggs. The suffocating stench of rot and the slow violation of her body by monsters that never stopped breathing.

'Murphy… you knew, didn't you?' she thought, barely fending off another claw strike. 'You sent me here to face them… to overcome this.'

But how?

How could someone overcome a fear born from endless nights of terror?

How could someone look at the face of the thing that broke them, and still raise a hand?

'Not everyone is an immovable mountain like you, Murphy…'

Her knees buckled as another Scavenger lunged. Her serpent barely managed to intercept, its fangs sinking into the thing's neck.

She was bleeding, panting, barely upright or she felt that she was. She felt like a leaf in a storm.

Her vision was swimming.

It was like she was under some influence.

And yet, deep in her chest, the tiniest flicker of defiance still smoldered.

She wasn't the mountain.

But maybe… just maybe… she didn't have to fall either.

Elizabeth's chest clenched.

She hated them.

But she feared them more.

The white snake curled around her shoulders, sensing her spiraling thoughts. It hissed low, protective. Still, her arms shook as she raised them. "Defend," she whispered, barely able to get the word out.

The Scavengers closed in.

And her fear ignited.

The first one leapt—and she screamed, not from pain, but from memory. Her snake intercepted, slamming the creature into the ground and biting off its head.

[You have slain an Awakened Beast, Carapace Scavenger.]

Another dove toward her. She tried to dodge, but her body moved sluggishly, fear dragging at her limbs like weights in mud.

A claw grazed her cheek. She stumbled back, gasping.

She could feel their breath. Their weight. Their touch. The panic nearly broke her.

But then a voice whispered through her haze—not out loud, but from within:

"You're not there anymore. You're not helpless anymore."

And for one breath, she believed it.

She forced her legs to hold. Gritted her teeth. "Circle left," she commanded. "Split them."

The snake darted away, dragging three of the monsters with it.

It struck fast—biting one in the face and tearing the head free. It grabbed another by the waist, soared into the sky, and dropped it onto the third.

The last panicked, slashing wildly at its fallen kin—too late. The serpent struck again, crushing its skull in its jaws.

[You have slain an Awakened Beast, Carapace Scavenger.]

[You have slain an Awakened Beast, Carapace Scavenger.]

[You have slain an Awakened Beast, Carapace Scavenger.]

Still, six remained.

They lunged together—too fast, too coordinated. One of them caught her by the leg. She shrieked, falling, blood spraying from her calf. Another slammed into her side.

Pain exploded. Her ribs cracked.

The world spun.

But this time—rage pushed back the fear.

Her [Hated] attribute flared. As long as those creatures lived, so would her fury. Her body surged with unnatural will and pulse of healing.

She twisted her leg breaking every bone in the leg and kneed one in the face. Then she used her free hand and stabbed it in the head. Rolled, bleeding, as her Snake returned to strike down two more.

[You have slain an Awakened Beast, Carapace Scavenger.]

[You have slain an Awakened Beast, Carapace Scavenger.]

Four left.

Her heart pounded like a war drum.

Two Scavengers pinned her again—one raking its claw across her arm, the other aiming for her throat. She screamed and struck wildly.

[You have slain an Awakened Beast, Carapace Scavenger.]

The serpent killed one—then the next.

[You have slain an Awakened Beast, Carapace Scavenger.]

Only two remained.

But Elizabeth was on her knees now. Barely able to breathe. Trembling, broken, but eyes wide with fire.

They came.

She didn't flinch.

Her serpent lunged—one died but couldn't retreat to save her from another. But she didn't required it either.

[You have slain an Awakened Beast, Carapace Scavenger.]

She grabbed a dagger and stabbed it against the last one's eye, again and again and again—until its twitching stopped.

[You have slain an Awakened Beast, Carapace Scavenger.]

Silence.

Blood dripped from her chin. Her arms were shaking. But she was alive.

Tears streamed silently down her cheeks—not from the pain, but from the knowledge she'd survived them.

That she had overcome her fear to certain exist. She lay down on the Ashen Barrow. Her serpent coiled around her protectively, licking her wound.

Elizabeth didn't smile.

But for the first time, she didn't cry either.

On the other side of the battlefield, Akame and Lucas had already finished their task. With blood on their blades and urgency in their eyes, they sprinted toward the Ashen Barrow at full speed—toward Murphy.

But Murphy…

Murphy was no longer fighting.

He was worshiping.

Hovering midair with wings unfurled—radiant and vast—he ascended in a slow, reverent arc toward the towering monolith of the Ashen Barrow. The Soul Devouring Tree loomed above him, vast as a cathedral, its twisted branches swaying with ancient intent.

And it welcomed him.

Its bark groaned softly, and a single glowing fruit dislodged—falling gently into Murphy's outstretched hand. It pulsed with warm light. Alive. Tempting.

Murphy smiled.

Not the calm, distant smile he usually wore. But something else. Twitching at the corners. Manic. Devout.

He bit into the fruit without hesitation.

Juice dripped down his chin, golden and gleaming. His hands trembled as he devoured it—eyes wide, breath heavy, expression one of holy ecstasy.

[You have gained a Soul.]

Another fruit dropped.

Then another.

And another.

Like an endless rain of mercy, the Tree shed its blessings.

Murphy caught them all—consumed them all. One after the other, hungrily, fervently, worshipfully. Until every branch hung bare and the Tree stood naked before him.

He hovered before it, panting. Hands bloody with nectar. Eyes alight with false devotion.

"Please…" he whispered, voice raw. "Great Tree… grant me more. Shower me. Baptize me in your grace. Your greatness knows no bounds…"

And then—The wind shifted.

The leaves rustled—not in welcome, but in warning. The warm hum of the air grew cold. The branches twisted back, recoiling like a beast pulling in its fangs.

The Tree had seen through him.

Too late.

Murphy's smile sharpened, curving into something cruel and cold.

"Oh, Great Tree," he murmured, voice now razor-thin. "You really thought you'd enthrall me. But it's you who's been enthralled."

The sky pulsed.

A tidal wave of mental force crashed into him—despair, hunger, submission, rapture—thousands of echoing minds screaming in harmony. The Tree bared its full weight, the horror of a thousand consumed souls bearing down like a mountain.

Murphy didn't flinch.

He tilted his head slightly to the side, as if discussing the weather.

"I sacrifice," he said, his voice impossibly calm,

"One year, five months, and twenty days of my life."

The sky split.

"I also manifest [Kalpata]…"

His voice grew deeper, resonant.

"…along with [Wings of Nirvana]."

Behind him, a radiant wheel spun into existence—brimming with divine, maternal light, etched with seemingly infinite knowledge. Time itself bowed to him.

Then came the wings. Golden. Infinite. Sacred.

The [Wings of Nirvana] unfurled with a thunderous cry, bathing the Tree in unbearable brilliance. Each beat of their feathers whispered forgotten hymns of Life and Death.

[Rengoku] pulsed in his hands—no longer just a weapon, but a living oath, a judge forged in flame and truth.

[Kalpata]'s Radiance.

[Wings of Nirvana].

[Rengoku]'s Unyielding Inferno and Judge.

[Sacrifice].

All of it. Focused into a single point. A singular moment.

Murphy raised his blade.

One breath. One step. A prayer offered not in reverence, but in rebellion.

Art of Sacrifice: Singularity.

And Nothing happened.

Stillness reigned. Even the wind stopped.

Then, with a soundless cleave, the entire Soul Devouring Tree split.

Not fell. Not shattered. Split.

Down the middle—perfectly, utterly, finally.

Every leaf. Every branch. Every root, every whisper, every lie—

Gone.

Ash drifted through the air like snow. The tree collapsed into itself—centuries of darkness and domination erased in a single stroke of divine will.

[You have slain an Awakened Terror: Soul Devouring Tree.]

[You have slain an Awakened Beast: Carapace Scavenger.]

[You have slain an Awakened Monster: Carapace Centurion.]

[You have slain an Awakened...]

[You have slain a Great Devil: Vile Thieving Bird's Spawn.]

[You have received a Memory.]

[612 Souls Acquired.]

And Murphy—floating above the smoldering ruin—looked down with a gaze that had seen eternity blink. No smile now.

Only silence.