Survival in Akame ga kill

“Come in,” Honest’s deep, almost bored voice echoed through the dimly lit chamber. The heavy door creaked open, and a masked figure entered the room, moving quickly to kneel before the Prime Minister. 

He dropped to one knee, placing one hand flat on the ground in a gesture of absolute submission. His breath was steady, but the tension in his posture betrayed his unease.

“I have a report to tell, my lord,” the masked man spoke, his voice calm but carrying an underlying current of anxiety, as though the weight of the news he carried made his tongue heavy.

Honest’s eyes glinted with a faint flicker of interest, his fat, greedy fingers still grasping the boar bone from his meal. 

He leaned forward slightly. “Tell me then,” he said, his lips curling into something resembling a smile, though there was no warmth in it, only hunger for whatever fresh chaos this report might deliver.

The masked man gulped quietly, steeling himself for what he was about to reveal. “The person who assassinated your uncle has been identified by our intelligence agents,” he said, his voice tight.

The room seemed to darken further at the mention of Honest’s slain relative. Iwo-Karu, a vile man by any standard, had been one of Honest’s blood relatives, a man known for his twisted pleasures and excesses. 

He had gone on a ‘trip’ to the Empire’s borderlands under the guise of diplomatic dealings, though it was well known that his real purpose was to collect foreign, high-breed female slaves for his personal amusement. 

However, only three days later, Honest had received the chilling report that Iwo-Karu’s head had been displayed on a stake in the town square near the border, alongside the decapitated bodies of his five bodyguards. 

The guards themselves had been no mere soldiers. They were disciples of the Kouken Temple, warriors feared for their deadly skills.

As the words hung in the air, Honest’s grip on the boar bone tightened. 

Crack!

The sound of cracking bone echoed ominously through the room as his thick fingers snapped it in half. His eyes narrowed dangerously, but his expression remained eerily composed. “Which bastard dared to kill my blood relative?” His voice was low. There was an edge to it that promised violence.

Though Honest had no personal attachment to Iwo-Karu, the murder had been a direct affront to his ‘authority’. 

The gruesome display of his relative’s head had sent a wave of disrespect through the Empire, and Honest could not tolerate such a blow to his reputation. 

After the incident, his wrath had led him to send an entire platoon of Imperial soldiers to that cursed town, with orders to slaughter every man, woman, and child who had witnessed the humiliating display. 

But when the soldiers finally arrived at the border town to exact Honest’s revenge, they found it completely deserted. 

Every citizen had fled, vanishing without a trace, leaving behind only the lingering scent of fear and defiance. Their escape had been orchestrated with such precision that not a single soul remained for the Imperial soldiers to slaughter. 

This disappearance only fueled Honest’s fury, but it was the consequences that followed which truly enraged him.

The mass deployment of soldiers to pursue these vanished townspeople had left a gap in the capital’s defences. 

In that critical period of vulnerability, Night Raid had taken full advantage. Striking swiftly and decisively, they assassinated several important nobles loyal to Honest’s faction. 

The impact was devastating. Each loss sent shockwaves through the Empire’s political structure, weakening Honest’s iron grip and casting doubt on his ability to protect the people under him. 

The blow wasn’t just physical, it was a direct assault on his power, his prestige, and the fear he commanded.

That humiliation had burned deep within Honest ever since, festering like a wound that refused to heal. It was a stain on his pride that he could neither erase nor ignore. 

He knew the Revolutionary Army was behind it all, pulling the strings and mocking him from the shadows. But now, with the identity of the prime culprit, this so-called Immortal Wraith, finally in his grasp, the time for retribution had come.

“Heh~,” came a quiet, amused chuckle from the corner of the room. Mez, one of Honest’s loyal Rakshasa demons, had been watching the exchange with wicked delight. Her green eyes gleamed with mischief as she observed the mounting tension. 

‘Let’s see how you handle this, fatty,’ she thought with a delightful grin.

The masked man continued, his voice trembling slightly now. “Yes, my lord. Our spies captured a few individuals who had fled to different towns. The one who brought the heads and displayed them on stakes for all to see was described as a petite figure wearing black and tattered clothes. The figure disappeared shortly after, and within an hour, men in Revolutionary Army attire came and evacuated the remaining townspeople, which lead us to confirm that this person’s connection to the revolutionary army.”

Honest’s lips curled into a grotesque smile as he leaned forward, resting his fat hands on what remained of the table in front of him. “And what about that bastard’s face?” he asked, the excitement in his voice barely contained.

The masked man’s hesitation was palpable. “Sir, the figure was wearing a black devil mask, so the face was not seen. However, our intelligence agents have identified the suspect. The person is affiliated with the Revolutionary Army. He goes by the alias Immortal Wraith. His real name, gender, and face remain unknown. In fact, there is no official record of his existence in any of our archives.”

The Prime Minister’s smile disappeared, replaced by a thunderous scowl. “Then what the hell do we know about him, you useless bastard?” Honest’s voice exploded with fury as he slammed his hand down on the table. 

Bamm!!

The force shattered the wood, sending food and wine flying across the room. Glass bottles and utensils crashed to the floor, shattering upon impact. The tension in the room spiked as everyone present braced themselves for Honest’s temper.

The masked man flinched, barely suppressing his instinct to back away. His voice quickened as he tried to salvage the situation. “Sir, our intelligence suggests that Immortal Wraith joined the Revolutionary Army five years ago. His missions have caused us substantial harm. Over the last two years, he’s been conducting solo operations. We’ve observed a consistent pattern in the deaths of his target officials, slave traders, and empire loyalists.”

He continued, “Our spies suspect he wields a Teigu because of his unseen powers, though the Teigu’s exact nature is unknown. We believe it grants him incredible regenerative abilities and allows him to use poisonous gauntlets in combat.”

Honest sat in silent fury, his chest heaving with barely contained rage as he processed the new information. His beady eyes gleamed with murderous intent, the gears in his mind turning rapidly.

“Regeneration... poison... poison...” he muttered, but paused. His fingers clenched the remnants of the shattered table in front of him as a sudden realisation dawned. 

His eyes flicked toward the masked man, burning with suspicion. “Wait... tell me, how was the previous leader of the Imperial Guards, Ogre, assassinated a few weeks ago?”

The question caught the masked man off guard, his thoughts scrambling as the pieces began to connect in his mind. His eyes widened with sudden understanding. “H-He was brutally murdered, my lord. As if the killer held a personal vendetta against him.”

The man swallowed nervously and continued, “Ogre’s body was found with deep, lethal cuts and battle marks so severe that it was barely recognizable by the time it was discovered. His corpse had already begun to rot, covered in foul-smelling pus. According to the postmortem report... there were traces of a regeneration serum, likely obtained from Dr. Stylish, and multiple types of poison in his system. He was likely tortured before he died for several minutes as his body regenerated over and over.”

Honest’s face twisted with a dark, venomous snarl. His thick fingers drummed against the table, his thoughts racing.

The masked man quickly interjected, “S-Sir, but that doesn’t definitively prove that this Immortal Wraith is behind the assassination. And wraith is probably near borders-“

“There is no need,” Honest cut him off sharply, his voice rising with fury. “My intuition tells me it’s the same bastard! It has to be him,” he spat through clenched teeth.

Mez, standing in the shadows with her arms crossed, grinned wickedly, baring her sharp teeth as her gaze flicked from Honest to the masked man. 

‘He’s already in the capital, isn’t he?’ she mused silently, her excitement barely contained. Immortal Wraith had gone from being a distant ghost in the Revolutionary Army to an immediate threat, and now, he was here, hunting within Honest’s own domain.

‘And the person he’s probably aiming for…’ Mez’s thoughts trailed off as her eyes drifted back toward Honest, her grin widening. She could sense the realisation dawning in the Prime Minister’s mind.

“So,” Honest sneered, his voice low and venomous, “that bastard is after revenge, huh? He dares to step onto my turf, aiming for my head?”  

He couldn’t care less about Wraith’s reason for revenge as he killed an uncountable amount of lives till this date. Why would he count the bugs he crushed?

Mez, sensing an opportunity to amuse herself, spoke up, “You think the Wraith is now working with Night Raid, perhaps? Or maybe acting as an independent assassin?” Her tone was casual, as though they were discussing a mild inconvenience and not the assassination of a high-ranking member of Honest’s family or the head Imperial guard.

Honest chuckled darkly, “Night Raid, huh… it wouldn’t surprise me. But it doesn’t matter, I will have him brought to me. And when I do, I’ll make sure he suffers in ways no one has ever seen before.” He leaned back in his chair, a cruel grin spreading across his face. “He’ll regret the day he thought he could challenge me.”

Veins bulge across Honest’s forehead, his skin flushed with fury as he let out a dark, malicious chuckle. The realisation that the Immortal Wraith had infiltrated his capital, possibly seeking to eliminate him, only stoked his wrath further. 

BAMMM!

He slammed his fist down onto the already shattered table, scattering more fragments across the floor.

Mez, still grinning in the shadows, watched with amusement. “This is going to be fun,” she whispered to herself, already imagining the hunt that would ensue.

Honest’s voice dripped with venom as he finally spoke again. “Send every spy, every assassin, every rat we have in this godforsaken city. I want this Immortal Wraith found.”

His eyes flickered with dark amusement, though inside his mind churned with bitter frustration. ‘I would have sent Esdeath to hunt him down if she were here now, but I can’t disturb her. Not while she’s conquering those lowly tribals. Not now.’ 

Esdeath’s brutality and efficiency would have made this simple, but her absence left Honest with no choice but to handle the matter himself, at least until her return. ‘I’ll have to find his location for now.’

The thought of sending Rakshasas didn't even arose in his mind as they were currently doing an important task for him.

He let the thought simmer, his hand resting on the broken table. “And don’t try to engage him with regular soldiers. That would be a waste of time... and lives. I want reports from the moment he’s spotted. Only those with considerable strength have any chance of capturing him.”

A wicked grin split Honest’s face, his lips curling as dark thoughts filled his mind. “When I have him, I’ll rip him apart, piece by piece. And then, I’ll feed his body to the dogs. He’ll learn what happens when you cross me. And when I’m done, I’ll mount his head on a stake for the entire city to see, just like he did to Iwo-Karu.”

Honest’s beady eyes gleamed with anticipation, a vile hunger seeping into his tone. He wouldn’t rest until the Immortal Wraith was broken and his bloodied corpse served as a warning to any who dared challenge his authority.

A dark, twisted thought crossed Honest’s mind, and though he didn’t speak it aloud, it sent shivers of pleasure down his spine. ‘If this Wraith turns out to be a woman… I’ll take my time. Let her regenerate... over and over. I wonder how her flesh will taste as I eat her alive. What expression will she make? If she’s young, it’s even better, as I haven’t tasted it in a while.’

Before he could linger too long on that depraved fantasy, another knock echoed from the chamber door. This time, a man burst in, barely able to control his breath as he knelt before the Prime Minister.

“Sir! The trap you set has worked! Two Night Raiders have been spotted in the pleasure district!” the man gasped, his voice filled with urgency.

Honest’s eyes narrowed into predatory slits, his face contorting into a cruel smile. Night Raid, the very rebel group that had been a thorn in his side for far too long. The pieces were falling into place.

“Well, then...” Honest’s voice was low, almost a growl. “It looks like we’re in for quite the hunt. Tell me everything.”

Mez’s grin widened as she shifted from the shadows. “Looks like we’ll be having a fun night,” she purred, her excitement almost palpable.

A/N: I don’t usually mention this, but writing chapters close to 2000 words takes a lot of effort and willpower for me. I spend four to five hours writing, rechecking, and editing each chapter myself, which is pretty tiring, especially since I prefer talking over typing (I’m the type who doesn’t even reply to texts and just calls the person instead). So, if you’re enjoying this novel, please show your support with likes, ratings, and if you haven’t left a review yet, well… you know what to do! It doesn't take much of your time so please support this novel (: