CHAPTER 12: The Pawn Who Became a Knife
Eden slept, but its cracks whispered.
The city shimmered in the dark, silver spires humming faintly under the sterile glow of its artificial stars. Below, in the refugee levels, children dreamed of saviors. Soldiers stood at their posts, cold eyes scanning the horizon for black-winged shapes. Priests lit incense in half-ruined shrines to a god that no longer answered.
And in the underbelly of it all, Luther walked.
...
The Cage
The corridors here were slim and forgotten... pipes hissing, lights flickering like a old house. He didn't know why he'd come this way. His feet simply carried him.
Some part of him thought he'd find answers in the dark.
But all he found were echoes.
"You were made to end him…"
Naomi's voice. Always her voice.
It didn't come from the walls. It didn't come from memory. It came from the silence between thoughts... sharp and soft at once.
He stopped and stared at his reflection in a cracked steel panel.
For a moment, he thought he saw her standing behind him.
White hair tied back.
That quiet, knowing gaze.
...
Naomi's Whisper
"Still pretending," she said.
He spun.
But no one was there.
The corridor was empty... save for the faint smell of lavender and smoke.
He closed his eyes and felt her presence settle over him like ash.
When he opened them again, she was sitting on a bent support beam, watching him with a faint smile.
Her robes were torn where the spear had gone through her once... and yet there was no blood.
"Tell me," she murmured, "does the applause still sound sweet now that you know the words are hollow?"
Luther stared at her.
"They made me," he said slowly. "You told me that. You said I was carved, not born. You said..."
"I said," she interrupted, tilting her head, "you were made to end him."
"Who Naomi?"
She didn't answer.
Instead, she swung her legs idly like a child and said, almost carelessly, "It's a dangerous thing, you know. Being a knife that thinks it's a hand."
Then disappeared... no trace, no scent left behind.
...
The Crowd
He kept walking.
Somehow, he found himself near the Hall of Deliverance.
The refugees were gathered there, pressed to the glass. Watching. Always watching.
And then came the chanting.
His name.
Over and over.
"Luther. Luther. Luther."
The children smiled. The priests bowed. The soldiers saluted.
And all he could see in their eyes was fear dressed as worship.
He smiled for them... because that was what they needed.
But it didn't reach his eyes.
And when he turned, he saw Naomi in the reflection again, leaning against the glass, arms folded.
"They cheer," she murmured, "because they still believe a lie."
He clenched his fist.
"What lie?"
Her smile was small and sharp as glass.
"That they're cheering for a savior. Not a blade."
...
The Akuma Breach
The alarms howled as he neared the outer gates.
A breach.
Akuma.
He could feel them before he saw them... a pulse in the air, a weight pressing into his chest.
The gates hissed open, and the wasteland wind screamed in.
And there they were.
A squad of them.
Twisted wings. Spines of blackened bone. Faces carved from fire and judgment.
He raised his hand and Lux Caedis descended in a instant from heaven , the runes along its shaft glowing faintly.
The Akuma froze, regarding him.
And he regarded them back.
Something in their shapes... the way their claws curled, the way their wings trembled... struck him. Their fear against blade that showed no mercy to their kind.
And then he heard Naomi's voice again:
"Every blade," she murmured, "was a part of the thing it cuts before it was forged."
He faltered.
Lowered the spear just an inch.
The nearest Akuma lunged... and its claws tore across his side before he moved again.
Pain ripped through him, hot and clean on his left chest and black wing.
But as his blood hit the dirt, something inside him cracked.
And the hesitation burned away. Bring him back , back to his mindless drift in thought.
...
The Fight
He moved like the storm.
Lux Caedis flashed once... severing wings.
Twice... shattering a skull.
A roar rose from his throat... primal, deliberate. Not the roar of a savior. Not the roar of a hero.
The roar of a thing that had finally chosen to be what it was.
The Akuma screamed as he cut through them, one by one.
When the last of them fell, the gates hissed closed.
And Luther stood over the bodies, chest heaving, his spear dripping black ichor.
And his black majestic wings spared across like a beast.
For a long moment, he just stood there.
Thinking.
Looking at the sky above.
"Naomi... " he whispered
Then he dropped Lux Caedis into the ash and whispered:
"They call me their savior ." Then sighed
"Yet here I stand... hoping to see you again."
And then, louder he said:
"Not anymore."
...
The Crowd Again
Behind him, the cheering rose.
The civilians who'd gathered at the gates pressed forward, shouting his name again, weeping in gratitude.
"Luther! Luther! Luther!"
"I Love you Luther."
" Ohh heavens champion"
"May you be blessed.. as my family lives because of you."
He turned to face them... and smiled the smile they needed.
But in his eyes, there was nothing left of the man they thought they worshiped.
...
The Tower
Far above, in the Observer Tower, Zero watched from the shadows.
The feed from the gates played silently on a screen in front of him.
He didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Until a faint smile touched his lips.
"Hmmm... Luther," he murmured, "has chosen to move."
And then he turned and carried on staring to the abyss.
...
Naomi, One Last Time
Later that night, in his quarters, Luther sat in the dark.
The silence was heavy.
He stared at the floor for a long time.
And then he heard her.
Naomi.
Her voice was soft now. Almost kind.
"You did well," she said.
He didn't look up.
"What am I?" he asked.
For the first time, she answered.
"You're a question," she whispered. "And questions are the only things sharp enough to cut through lies."
He raised his eyes to her.
And she smiled, faint and sad.
"Just remember, Luther…"
And then she said the phrase that would stay with him forever:
"Even a blade forgets it was once a part of the thing it cuts... until it feels the weight of its own edge."
And then she was gone.
...
END OF CHAPTER 12: The Pawn Who Became a Knife