Savior in Shadow Slave

Murphy's wings snapped once, hard, as he streaked toward the creature like a dark spear.

The shadow-thing met him midair with a shriek, claws arching like scythes.

CLANG!

[Rengoku] met bone with a sound like splitting stone. Sparks erupted where steel clashed against that unnatural hardness. Murphy twisted, his sword dragging a shower of molten fragments from the creature's arm.

The monster laughed.

Murphy's jaw clenched. He slammed his forehead into its mask—once, twice—until fractures spider-webbed across that grinning surface. The thing retaliated, clawing at his side. Flesh tore. Warm blood sprayed, caught by the wind.

"You're slow."

Murphy's fist shot forward, smashing into the creature's ribs. Bone cracked—no, folded, like snapping reeds.

The creature grinned wider, swiping its claws. Murphy ducked under, pivoting his body midair, using one wing like a bladed shield. The claws ripped through the membrane but missed his chest by inches.

He roared and drove [Rengoku] upward. The blade dug into its shoulder, carving half the arm off in a spray of black sludge. The creature screeched, twisting unnaturally, and bit Murphy's wrist with a mouth hidden beneath its mask. Pain flared, sharp as fire.

Murphy snarled and slammed his knee into its skull, shattering bone fragments. He let go of [Rengoku] for a split second, spinning his entire body into a vicious elbow strike that sent the creature hurtling into the air.

Akame's eyes widened.

Lucas's mouth opened, but no words came. Elizabeth tightened her grip on the serpent, breath held as she watched Murphy and the creature collide again and again, the air around them exploding with each clash.

The creature lunged again—this time, faster. Murphy caught its arm with one hand, straining as its claws inched toward his throat. Veins stood out in his neck as his muscles burned.

"Not… today!" He twisted its arm, using its momentum to drive his knee into its chest. The impact sent a shockwave rippling across the Dark Sea below, the black water frothing like boiling tar.

It retaliated instantly, raking claws down his back. Murphy hissed, but instead of retreating, he surged forward, headbutting the creature again and again until its mask cracked, pieces falling like porcelain shards.

'It bleeds. It breaks. I can win.'

His breath came ragged, every muscle screaming, but he pushed harder—fists, knees, wings slamming like battering rams. He grabbed the creature's head and slammed it into his own shoulder, the thunk echoing in his bones.

The creature laughed again. Laughed.

Murphy's vision blurred. His knuckles were raw, his blade slick with black blood.

'Enough. This thing isn't dying fast enough. I can't keep this up…No… I won't let them see me fail.'

He kicked the creature downward, breaking its spine in a grotesque snap. But as it began to rise again, twisted and grinning, Murphy knew brute force alone wouldn't finish this.

His aura condensed. Not just power—time. His remaining lifespan folded, crushed, weaponized. [Rengoku] flared like a collapsing star, its edge so bright it burned the black out of the world, bleaching the Dark Sea to white.

"Die with me," Murphy whispered, bitterness and resolve braided tight.

Art of Sacrifice: Singularity.

No flash. No thunder.

Just absence.

Space within a hundred meters erased—sound, water, shadow, law. Where the Dark Sea had boiled, a sphere of null tore it open; the horizon rippled like torn fabric.

The creature's scream sheared upward through the void, shredding into static as its body atomized—then granular dust—then nothing.

When the white receded, only natural Darkness remained along with Starless and Endless sky. And Murphy—hovering at its center, chest heaving, wings guttering like burned silk.

He spat blood. Vision swam.

'That took everything past mid‑life… only ten years left. If I can make it five more months, I can go through Samsara. Why hasn't spell—'

"…How beautiful."

Every muscle locked. Murphy turned.

From the scorched dark, the shadow rose. Calm. Deliberate. Death treated as a rumor. Bones clicked together like ritual beads; void‑sinew laced across them. The mask—once cracked—now smooth. Perfect.

"You burn so bright," it breathed, voice soft as a lover's mouth at his ear. "You even gave me your time. Worth every trouble. I've died quite a few times because of you."

Murphy's grip closed around [Rengoku] until tendons creaked.

"…You were dragging me here."

The thing smiled. Serene.

"Yes."

The air knotted. A lattice of light and cold thought slammed shut—web compression. Threads of singing code wrapped him, burrowing into wing, bone, memory.

Far behind—already banking toward the jagged skyline of the Dark City—Akame twisted in Murphy's arms' absence and felt nothing. Her body lurched as weight vanished; she tumbled, caught mid‑fall by Elizabeth's serpent.

"What happened?!" she screamed.

Lucas turned back just in time to see a second sun bloom white where Murphy hovered—then collapse inward. The blastfront struck them seconds later, a pressure wave that flipped serpent, spear, and swords alike.

When the glare finally faded—Murphy was a speck in black emptiness.

"HE DID IT!" Lucas shouted over the wind—then stopped. Something moved in that darkness. Re‑forming. Smiling.

"Pull back!" he roared. "Pull back now!"

Akame fought him. "NO—!"

Murphy's shout—too distant to hear—echoed through their bonds instead: Go.

Akame's teeth cracked under the force she clenched them. She let herself be dragged.

Murphy never finished his next word.

The web cinched. Threads hummed—a choir of stolen voices—and the world fractured. Sky, sea, and stone folded inward like wet cloth.

WHAM.

He slammed into nothing. Wings crushed. Arms locked in invisible shackles. Pressure like collapsed gravity pinned his ribs until his heartbeat sounded like hammer blows.

Mirrors bloomed—distorted, concave, overlapping in spirals. In each, a different Murphy:

Throat opened to the spine. Chest hollow, heart missing. Skin burned away, teeth bared in defiance. Old. Broken. Kneeling.

"Where—" He choked as the prison pulsed, dragging him deeper. Tar‑thick pressure flooded his lungs; he inhaled despair.

He summoned [Rengoku]. Blade howled white.

One year.

He slashed. Glass oceans exploded outward. Bindings tore. He punched upward through the seal—caught the real wind—smelled salt—

WHAM. Back inside.

"…A loop," he rasped.

Laughter swarmed the chamber—everywhere, nowhere.

"Did you think it would be easy?" the creature purred. "Run again. I enjoy the struggle. Our God helped me build this."

'Our God. Spell? Or Someone else? What is he? Considering how he revived again, a zombie? Just how many deaths can he die?'

He burned another year. Nine left.

Slash. Break. Reform. Reset.

Again. Eight left.

Again—shatter—white—reset—

'Stop. Idiot. You won't live to Samsara.'

"Watching you strain was pleasant, Eternal Adversary." The voice thinned to a sigh. "Bye."

A snap of fingers like cracking ice—And both Murphy and the creature disappeared.

Akame's scream echoed across the horizon.

"Murphy! MURPHY!"

Her Aspect detonated without form—raw [Aegis] backlash blasting concentric fractures through the wall and street stone. She slammed both fists into empty air, as if she could rip space open by will alone.

"Bring him back! Give him back to me!" Her voice shattered on the edge of panic and something deeper—something breaking.

Elizabeth's serpent coiled hard around her waist, hissing, grounding. Elizabeth clung to it, tears streaming, whispering: "He told us to go—he told us to go—"

Lucas drove his spearpoint into the stone to anchor himself, knuckles bloodless.

"Where did he go? Where did he—" He stopped, jaw clenched, eyes burning with the same wild light.

Nothing answered.

Only wind. Only the cold, empty sky.

Akame thrashed—then froze. Her breath slowed. The tremor in her hands dulled. She lifted her head. No more shaking.

Only determination. Only knowledge.

[End of Volume 2, Part-1]