Luxy lay motionless on the cold ground, her breath shallow and uneven. Blood pooled beneath her, dark and shimmering, staining the floor around her. Above her, her angel sister hovered with trembling wings as she is about to escape. She stared at Luxy's torn back and the bloody feathers scattered everywhere.

Her voice cracked. "I… I did not mean… I did not do this. It wasn't me"

Luxy did not respond. Her eyes were open but unfocused.

Fear twisted across the angel sister's face. Without another word, she beat her wings and flew away, escaping into the night as if running from her own guilt. The sound of her departure echoed faintly.

Luxy remained still for several long seconds. Then her fingers twitched. Slowly she pushed herself off the blood-soaked floor. Her back dripped with crimson, the last wing stump raw and exposed. She staggered forward, barely able to stand.

Her voice came out weak. "My blood… it is red now."

She touched the liquid on her fingertips. It used to be white-gold, the color of an angel or even a fallen one. But now it was red, human red. Her breathing grew harsher.

"I am turning into nothing," she whispered. "A mortal trash… like humans."

Her legs shook. She tried to walk. "I need… to get back to Ren…"

She managed two steps before the world tilted. Her vision blurred into darkness, and she collapsed face-first on the ground. The silence returned.

Minutes passed.

Footsteps approached.

From the alley shadows, three women in black tactical gear emerged. They wore helmets and masks, the fisted hand insignia printed bold across their backs. They stopped when they saw Luxy's fallen body.

"What in the world…" one of them whispered.

Another knelt down beside Luxy and touched her shoulder cautiously. "Who is this woman? She is bleeding badly."

The third woman leaned closer and placed two fingers on Luxy's neck. "She is alive, but barely."

But soon first woman's eyes widened. "Wait. Feel her. I cannot sense anything from her. No power. Nothing. She is empty."

The first woman looked shocked. "Then she is one of us. A sister. A powerless one."

They exchanged looks filled with confusion and worry. The second woman lifted Luxy carefully. "Take her. Command will want to see this."

They carried her away into the shadows, leaving only the bloodstains behind.

Meanwhile, across the city, the night felt tense. Sirens wailed in the distance. Every few minutes, gunshots echoed through the streets.

Inside a small diner lit by warm yellow lights, Ren and Kyouka sat at a booth. The TV mounted above the counter showed the news, the reporter speaking with a shaken voice.

"There have been more shootings across the northern districts. Officials are urging citizens to remain indoors. The situation remains unstable and unpredictable."

Customers in the diner murmured nervously. A group of women sitting at the counter began talking, their voices carrying across the room.

"What is the government doing? Nothing at all."

"Those powerless trash and spineless officials are going to get us killed."

"They sit in their safe houses while we suffer."

"I heard they cannot even protect their own guards. We are supposed to be powerful...why are they loosing to powerless trash like this?"

Their conversation grew more heated, turning political and filled with fear.

Ren listened and let out a quiet sigh. "So this is their plan. The Traitors. They will kill everyone in cold blood."

Kyouka looked frustrated. "Then what are we supposed to do now, Ren?"

Ren leaned back, rubbing his forehead. "Amanda is still missing. Misa and Hiyori were kidnapped. Luxy disappeared without a trace. And Asashi's son is still with us. We are drowning here."

Kyouka lowered her voice. "Things are looking grim for everyone."

Ren nodded. "We cannot do anything. We are powerless compared to what is happening in this city. Whatever is moving the pieces… it is far beyond our reach."

Kyouka opened her mouth to respond, but at that moment the diner's door swung open with a loud creak.

Two women in black tactical gear stepped inside. They had the same fisted hand symbol on their backs. Both of them held guns raised, their eyes cold and determined.

One of them shouted loudly. "Death to power!"

Gasps and screams echoed through the diner. People ducked under tables. A waitress dropped a tray, dishes shattering across the floor.

Ren's eyes widened. "They are about to shoot."

Before he could react further, Kyouka moved on instinct. She leaped across the table and shielded Ren with her body, pushing him down.

"Stay down!" she shouted.

Ren tried to reverse the situation and cover Kyouka, expecting the gunfire.

But none came.

Instead, two single gunshots rang out in the diner. Sharp. Clean. Precise.

Kyouka slowly raised her head. Ren looked up as well.

The two attackers lay on the floor, blood pooling under them.

Standing behind them was a red haired woman holding a smoking pistol. Her expression showed irritation more than fear.

"They do not even let me eat in peace in my favorite diner," she muttered, lowering her weapon.

Ren's eyes widened further. He knew that voice. He knew that face.

"Astrid…" he whispered.

The red haired woman turned toward him. Her eyes brightened with recognition. A slow smile appeared on her face.

"Well, well," she said. "Ren. Long time."

The diner was silent except for the faint news report continuing in the background and the distant city sirens.

Ren stared at her as if seeing a ghost.

Kyouka exhaled slowly. "Astrid… why are you here?"

Astrid gave a playful shrug and holstered her gun. "Because trouble always finds me. And apparently, it finds you two as well."

Ren swallowed, still shocked.

Astrid smirked at their stunned faces.

***

Amanda's eyes fluttered open. A cold ache ran through her arms. Metal cuffs pinned her wrists behind her back, forcing her into a kneeling position on a raised platform. Her vision blurred for a moment, then focused.

What she saw sent a deep chill through her spine.

Hundreds of women stood in front of her. All of them wore black tactical gear and identical gas masks. Their rifles rested against their chests, steady and disciplined, almost like soldiers waiting for a command. The air felt heavy with expectation.

Amanda swallowed. Her gaze moved cautiously to her right.

A woman stood there.

A woman with her face.

Her own face.

Amanda narrowed her eyes, anger pushing through her confusion. "Finally you're here," she muttered.

The doppelganger smiled faintly. "I was wondering when you would wake up."

The woman took a small step forward, boots tapping sharply against the stage.

"I suppose I should introduce myself," she said. "My name is Miranda. Just Miranda. No family name. I am the current acting leader of the traitors."

She lifted her chin slightly and faced the masked soldiers below.

"Sisters," Miranda began. Her voice carried across the hall with the practiced strength of someone used to speaking to crowds. "Today you stand in the presence of our captured key. But before we talk about what comes next, I want you all to remember why we fight."

Some of the soldiers shifted, tightening their grips on their weapons.

"For years," Miranda continued, "we have lived under oppression. Not by nations. Not just by governments. But by the world itself. They call themselves chosen. They call themselves gifted. They call themselves superior. And what are we in their eyes?"

She raised her hand and pointed toward the crowd.

"We are trash to be thrown away. Tools to be used. Bodies to be discarded."

A murmur rose among the soldiers. Their masked faces hid their emotions, but the tension was visible in the way their heads tilted, in the way their fingers clenched around their rifles.

"Our society was built to worship power," Miranda said. "And those without power are told to kneel. Told to obey. Told to accept whatever scraps the gifted toss at us. But not anymore."

She paced slowly across the stage, her boots echoing in the silence.

"For years, our people have been cut out of their own future. We have lost jobs, homes, families. We have been pushed aside simply because we were born normal. But the world forgets something important."

She stopped and pointed upward.

"The world forgets that the powerless outnumber the powerful."

A wave of clapping erupted, sharp and rhythmic.

Miranda nodded, then turned to Amanda. "And now we finally have what we need."

Amanda glared at her. "I have no idea what you think you're going to do with me."

Miranda leaned down slightly. "You know exactly why you are important. Even if you pretend not to."

She straightened again and faced the soldiers.

"We have our key," she declared, pointing at Amanda.

Claps grew louder. Some women stomped their boots. The hall shook with energy.

"In a few days," Miranda said, "the world is going to change. Everything that has oppressed us will fall. Everything built on the arrogance of the gifted will crumble."

She raised both arms high.

"We bear witness to the miracle of a lifetime."

The crowd roared. Even behind gas masks, their voices thundered like a storm.

Miranda waited until they quieted again.

"The world shall heal from the tyranny of power," she said. "And soon everything shall be just as I envisioned."

She placed a hand on her chest.

"Just as we envisioned."

Amanda felt sweat drip down her spine. Her heart pounded. The room felt suffocating. Hundreds of masked faces turned toward her, as if she were some sacred object.

"Who the fuck are you?" Amanda whispered.

Miranda smiled. "I am you. But history is written by those who win. And only one of us will exist in that history."

She snapped her fingers.

Two soldiers stepped forward and seized Amanda's arms.

"Prepare her and send her to our lab," Miranda said. "Our new future begins soon."

The soldiers dragged Amanda toward the back of the stage while the crowd erupted again in applause and chanting, their voices echoing through the vast hall like a rising tide.