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❟❛❟ CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE ❟❛❟
THEY USED TO SAY REDEMPTION WAS THE END OF PAIN—a light at the end of the tunnel, the last step in a weary journey where scars could finally fade into something holy. But they were wrong. Redemption wasn't an ending. It was the beginning of a life lived without forgiveness.
Akame knew this with every breath she drew. It clung to her ribs like iron, coiled around her spine like a silent curse. A promise and a punishment, one and the same. Every second she remained in this world was a thread woven from guilt.
The hospital air felt too clean, too light. A stark contrast to the clamor and weight in her mind. Akame lay, staring at the white ceiling, but her gaze pierced through to the memories of her past deeds. She looked back at the destruction she had caused, the blood trails she had carved in the name of an ambition that now felt utterly hollow.
Slowly, she raised her hands. They trembled slightly—clean, calloused, shaped by years of gripping a sword. These were the same hands that had molded the world into chaos. That had once believed peace could only bloom through dominance. Through a dream that stole freedom under the illusion of salvation.
Akame's eyes closed, remembering every face she had manipulated, every trust she had betrayed. She had been the architect of endless suffering, convinced she was the only one who saw 'the truth.' The despair over a broken system, the disappointment in a world constantly embroiled in conflict—all of it pushed her into the deepest abyss, where she tried to create a utopia that was, in reality, a prison of freedom.
A bitter breath escaped her lips. "A hero, huh?" she murmured. "How ironic."
The word tasted like ash. She hadn't chosen this path out of virtue. Becoming a hero was just another cage—one she built with her own hands. A way to redirect the same power that once scorched the world into something more... acceptable. A role to wear like armor. A perfect mask to hide the monster within.
She sat up slowly, wincing as her muscles protested. The weight of what came next settled over her like a second skin. Otsutsuki Reishi. She had hidden him away—banished him to a dimension far removed from here. The battle between them hadn't ended, only delayed. Sooner or later, he would come. And before he did, she had to find him.
This was her war. One she would fight alone. She couldn't afford to drag anyone else into that abyss. Not Todoroki. Not Bakugou. Not even the ones who still dared to believe in her. If she were to fall, it would be alone. That was the price. That was the only redemption she could claim. Even if no one forgave her. Especially then.
The hospital room door suddenly creaked open, breaking the silence Akame had built around herself. Akame didn't move. She didn't need to. Her senses had already whispered their presence long before the sound reached her ears. Slowly, her eyelids lifted. There, standing in the doorway, were the last two people she wanted to face—yet the very two she had longed for in the rawest, most human part of herself.
