twd: the last silence

Chapter 45: The Smile of Silence

Axel stood still.

The chaos roared behind him—

Steel against flesh, screams echoing through blood-soaked corridors.

But none of it touched him.

He looked at her.

Alice.

And his eyes—

They were empty.

Not cold.

Not full of rage.

Not even sad.

Just… gone.

Like someone had reached inside and scraped out everything human.

Alice stepped back half a pace.

Not from fear of death—

But from something worse.

Confusion.

She expected him to charge.

To roar.

To curse her name and scream for his family.

But he didn't move.

Didn't blink.

Didn't breathe like a man who held a soul in his chest.

She saw his face through the dirt, the blood, the long silver-streaked hair.

"Axel…" she whispered.

She knew.

Of course she did.

She knew why he was here.

She had always known this day would come.

She thought it would come with fire.

But instead, it came like ice.

Axel's lips parted, slow and soft.

Not like a warrior.

Not like a man with vengeance.

Like a child learning how to speak.

> "Five… come."

A pause.

> "Guard. Kill… all not here."

The words hit harder than a blade.

Not because they were violent.

Because they were empty.

Alice's breath caught in her throat.

And from the shadows—

Number Five moved.

He didn't run.

He appeared, like the nightmare you forgot until it's standing at your throat.

Alice gasped as he reached her—

Too fast.

Her hand reached for a knife at her side—

Too slow.

CRACK.

Her knee shattered beneath Number Five's kick—

She collapsed with a scream.

Before her head hit the ground, he was already over her.

Not a man.

Not a soldier.

A statue. A guardian. A weapon.

His eyes never blinked.

His hand pressed her face into the dirt.

And behind him—

Axel smiled.

Just a soft, subtle curve of the lips.

Not joy.

Not cruelty.

Just the first real emotion he'd shown in so long

The one he didn't even know he still had.

Because the world burned behind him—

And now, he had her.

---

Axel stood still.

Blood painted the world red behind him, but he didn't turn.

Didn't flinch.

Didn't breathe like the others.

His eyes were closed now.

Only Number Five and Alice, pinned beneath his loyal blade, were close enough to hear the soft voice that broke the silence.

> "There are three hundred people here…"

He spoke like he was reciting a lesson.

A lesson written in blood and quiet hatred.

> "Let's say… two hundred of them are fighters."

His voice didn't tremble.

Not with doubt.

Not with mercy.

> "Redd, the Numbers, my group—we are twenty-nine."

A pause.

Just long enough to taste the tension in the air.

> "Let's say every one of us kills four…"

Alice's eyes widened.

He was counting.

> " times 29… that's 116 i think"

He opened his eyes.

Cold.

Dead.

Bright like frost reflecting off broken glass.

> "That leaves eighty-four."

The moment hung—

Like a noose waiting to tighten.

He raised two fingers.

> "Two."

And like a ghost, Number Two appeared from the battlefield—

Blood dripping from his blade, breath ragged, but still ready.

He had a man at his feet—barely alive, throat pulsing with the last gasp of life.

He turned and ran to Axel's side, leaving the man behind without a thought.

Axel didn't even glance at the body.

His voice cut through the morning air like winter:

> "Tell Redd to stop."

Number Two blinked. Confused.

> "If he wants to save the women and children, he should move fast."

A beat.

> "You and the rest—hide."

Number Two didn't understand.

But that didn't matter.

Understanding wasn't required. Obedience was.

And he obeyed.

Vanishing into the growing shadows as ordered.

Behind him, the screaming dulled.

Some of Axel's people still fought—

But fewer.

More focused.

Redd was already pulling back—

Yelling orders, dragging fighters away from blood-drunk madness.

And Alice…

She never took her eyes off Axel.

Even now, face pressed in the dirt, knees crushed, body trembling—

She stared at him like he was a ghost.

A shadow of the boy she once knew.

> "You could've burned us," she whispered.

"You could've let the blood never stop… but you didn't."

Axel didn't answer.

He didn't look at her.

He just stared into the fire and silence and ruin.

Not with hatred.

Not with satisfaction.

Just… silence.

Because vengeance wasn't loud.

Not for Axel.

It was a whisper.

And the whisper had already spoken.

---

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