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**[A/N: Warning, you know what's coming. Brace yourself and read on.]**
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"Wakey, wakey," a soft, feminine voice echoed through the dimly lit sewer.
Unlike the oppressive darkness that had consumed the tunnel before, the scene was now illuminated by a single dim bulb hanging above, casting long shadows that danced across the damp walls.
Bane stirred, the world around him spinning as he drifted back into consciousness.
Pain throbbed through his body in waves, heavy and suffocating as his eyelids fluttered open.
'..why am I… still alive? The incoherent thought flickered across his mind. 'And..whose voice it is.'
After a few seconds, he was met with the owner of the voice or….not.
A pale, bloodied face greeted him, a few inches away from his own.
His mind froze as a deep, sharp pain coursed through his body, but it barely registered as his focus locked on the eerie sight in front of him.
Inches from his face hovered over the pale, bloody visage of a young woman. Her features were bruised and battered, and where her eyes should have been were hollow, grotesquely gouged sockets.
Crimson tears streaked her face, dripping from the hollow voids like macabre waterfalls.
It wasn't just her face that was wrong. The jagged and uneven edge of her neck told the rest of the story.
Her head had been severed, sawed off with brutal force, as blood from the stump dripped onto the floor below.
Her pink hair, now matted and stained with gore, was being clutched by a bloodied hand. The severed head dangled limply, like a grotesque trophy.
Recognition hit Bane like a hammer.
He knew this girl.
"...Mine." He uttered her name.
The defiant, sharp-tongued, pink-haired rebel who had come along with Tatsumi in an effort to save her friend Sheele.
Though their interactions had been brief and distant, he could still recall her hesitantly complimenting one of his dishes.
…Now, her arrogant confidence had been reduced to lifeless silence.
"Bad criminals don't get to sleep," the feminine voice continued, breaking his frozen thoughts.
The voice was chilling, flat, yet filled with something unnervingly cheerful.
The severed head's lips moved grotesquely in sync with the words, its vacant expression a horrifying puppet to the unseen ventriloquist.
"They have to pay for their crimes, just like I did," the voice mocked.
Bane's gaze shifted past Mine's dangling head, his focus landing on the figure holding it.
Standing in the dim light was a young woman, her auburn hair falling in neat waves around her Imperial Guard uniform.
Her amber eyes gleamed with a disturbing brightness that contrasted sharply with the sweet, almost serene smile on her face.
"Who would've thought sparing one criminal would bring in three others?" she said joyously, her voice laced with amusement.
She raised Mine's head, holding it in front of her as though admiring it.
"Don't you agree?" Her smile widened unnaturally, revealing a row of clenched pearly white teeth.
The mock serenity cracked as her lips stretched further, the grin twisting into something eerie.…something grotesque.
"Ah, this bitch…. This little rebel scum. It feels so good to bring justice, just like my father taught me," she said joyously.
Bane's eyes flicked from the psycho woman to the lifeless face of Mine.
Although the sight in front of him was disturbing, he had seen much worse in his life to falter from this insane act.
Yes, if any other person who had not experienced what he did in his accursed life, they would have vomited, peed or shit their pants and would have been scared shitless or fainted by the gruesome spectacle.
But he was different.
Bane was long since accustomed to dealing with these kinds of psychos.
In his view, slave dealers or nobles in particular were pretty twisted beings….with different abhorring tastes like necrophilia and the worst part was it was not the worst kinds of acts they committed.
And he had encountered situations like these too often which had hardened his heart and mind.
Let's say that years and years of killing and torturing these kinds of disgusting creeps and scums can not be done by a sane person either.
To kill these kinds of disgusting creatures, the killer has to become the devil themselves.
The same went for the other Night Raiders who, despite seeming normal from the outside, had few screws loose inside, except Tatsumi, because he was still new in this business.
The regret of not being able to save the girl stung a little, but he didn't have any meaningful relationship with the girl to have any significant impact.
Was he being unemotional in this situation?
Maybe yes, but again he was not like Tatsumi, who was quick to form bonds.
Now returning to his current predicament, it was already an expected situation for him.
He already knew from the moment his connection with his snake was cut something like this was going to happen, yet he still came here in order to save Sheele in order to repay the little debt he owed to her.
The woman with purple hair had generously shared her knowledge of teigu and other essential matters concerning the Imperials, effectively expediting his progress by eliminating the need for extensive research.
For different people, the value of time differed according to their needs and circumstances, and for someone like Bane who was suffering from an incurable disease and was on the cusp of dying, time was too precious of a commodity.
To complete her assistance, Sheele had gone above and beyond to help him procure information about the bar owner, a subject of his present inquiry.
Not to mention that tall and muscular idiot (Bulat) had saved his life, even sacrificing his arm in the process.
So yes, he had to pay back his debts.
Was it a stupid decision on his part?
Yes.
But again, did he care?
A resounding no.
His principles were immutable, whether they brought him gain or loss. Likewise, he upheld his debts and promises, even at the expense of his own life.
'Not that I will live long enough anyway.' he thought with detachment.
He moved his hands subtly, trying to test his restraints, but a sharp pain shot through him.
His wrists were bound in metallic cuffs lined with cruel thorns that bit into his skin with every movement. He winced as fresh blood dripped from the wounds, pooling on the floor beneath him.
He even tried to summon Jormungandr, but it didn't appear.
'Expected,' he thought bitterly, glancing up at the woman, whose eyes now bore into him with an unsettling mix of curiosity and sadism.
'Now…how to deal with this bitch?' He thought.
His throat was dry, but he forced himself to speak, his voice hoarse and low.
"....others?"
The woman tilted her head at his question, her smile softening into something almost gentle, yet no less menacing.
She let Mine's head drop slightly, swinging like a gruesome pendulum at her side.
"The others, you say?" she repeated quietly, her tone almost reflective.
**[A/N: Yup, I cried while writing this chapter. And yes, you know where this is going, don't you? Realistically speaking, this was the most probable outcome, if you consider carefully. Seriously, Bane and Bulat were out for five hours, which is too long of a time.
For those who want to stop here, I understand. I've said it before. This story is brutal because *Akame ga Kill!* thrives on its unflinching depiction of loss and cruelty.
And Bane is not some overpowered saviour. He's flawed, mortal, and subject to the same hardships as everyone else in this world. Mistakes have consequences, and debts must be paid.
That said… whose turn do you think is next?..
Note : I was just joking…maybe not]**