chapter 67

Chapter 67 : What Remains After the Fire

At first, Axel had been… something else entirely.

Cold. Unmoving. Ruthless to the bone.

Back then, revenge wasn't just a mission—it was his blood. It was his breath. It was the one thing that kept his heart pumping when he should've been dead.

And for revenge? He would have burned the world twice.

He didn't care about right or wrong. Innocent or guilty. Man, woman, child. If someone stood in his way, they were ash.

If you had asked him back then—"Would you kill a hundred women and children just to take revenge on one person?"

He wouldn't even blink.

He would have smiled.

But now…

Now, Alice was dead. The hive was gone. His hands had been soaked in the blood of vengeance, and the fire inside him had finally gone out.

And what was left?

Not peace. Not redemption. Just silence.

But today, when he looked at Silas—when he saw what he had done, what he had made—something twisted in his chest.

Silas, his Number One, his most perfect creation, was broken beyond repair.

Not from war. Not from loss.

But from him.

Begging to be used again. Pleading not to be left behind like a forgotten weapon.

And for the first time in a long, long time…

Axel felt something he didn't have a word for.

It wasn't guilt.

Not regret either.

But it hurt.

It hurt to see someone he molded into a blade, now too shattered to live as a man.

He had burned down the world for revenge.

But in doing so, he had forged monsters… and left them behind in the dark.

And now one of them had come back, not to kill him, not to curse him…

But to kneel before him like a lost child begging to matter again.

And that—that—hurt more than anything Alice had ever done.

---

For half an hour, the wind moved. The clouds shifted. Smoke coiled lazily from Axel's cigarette. But he said nothing.

Silas knelt, unmoving, like a broken statue. A lost relic of a past forged in blood.

Finally, Axel spoke—softly, like a man talking to a ghost.

"You came here… just for that?"

Silas didn't lift his head. "Rick asked me not to kill you. Just… do something about you, sir."

That answer made Axel smirk. He drew in another breath of smoke, staring off toward the edge of the sky.

"He really sent you?"

Silas said nothing.

"Let me ask you this, then." Axel's voice dropped lower. Not cruel, not cold. Just tired. "Last time… I didn't care about you. Or the others. You were tools. Nothing more. I used you all for my war. That was the deal."

Silas didn't flinch.

"Now," Axel continued, "Are you still willing to follow me? Through hell. Through madness. Not for vengeance. Not for glory. Just because I say so."

No hesitation.

"Yes."

The word hit the air like a gunshot.

Axel stood, slow and tall, black and silver hair swaying with the breeze.

He flicked the cigarette aside.

"So be it," he said. "You are my blade again, Number One."

And for the first time in so long, Silas looked up.

His god had returned.

---

Meanwhile, back in Alexandria

The wind felt heavier. Tension hung in the air like fog that refused to lift.

Rick sat at the table in the war room. Around him stood Daryl, Michonne, Jesus, Aaron, Rosita, and even Father Gabriel. Maps were laid out, markers circled possible routes and locations. Red lines. Blue arrows. It all looked like something from a world before the dead rose.

But they weren't just fighting walkers anymore.

They were preparing to fight men. Monsters.

"Scouts say the Sanctuary's defenses are tighter," Jesus reported. "Double patrols. They're expecting something."

"Because Axel wants us to come," Daryl growled. "He's not scared. He wants war."

"Then we don't give it to him," Michonne said sharply. "We outsmart them. Take out their supply routes. Bleed 'em slow."

Rick didn't speak yet. His eyes were fixed on a point on the map—the Sanctuary's front gate.

The place where Axel had stood.

The place where he'd taken a life as a message.

"We can't win this straight," Aaron said. "Not unless we get allies."

"I'm working on that," Rick muttered. "Silas was the first step."

"Silas?" Gabriel blinked. "He was the first step."

Everyone looked at Rick. He finally leaned back, eyes dark.

"We're not just fighting Negan anymore," he said. "We're fighting something worse. A man who's already had his war… and wants nothing but fire."

Rick's hand clenched on the table.

"So if war is what's coming…"

"We better be the ones who finish it."

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