Ren's eyes fluttered open.

His vision swam, a blur of shifting color and light. Everything hurt—his back, his chest, his head. His body felt heavy, as if he'd been buried under a mountain of stone.

When the blur slowly cleared, he saw a woman squatting in front of him. She had fiery red hair braided tightly down her back, a few strands escaping and framing a face marked by faint scars. Her eyes were like molten amber, sharp and alive.

Her build was strong yet feminine—slightly broad shoulders, strong arms, a warrior's form that didn't belong to most women but to someone who'd lived and survived on the edge.

Seeing him stir, she grinned slightly and said, her voice deep and steady, "Don't worry, I'm not your enemy. I helped you get away from that abomination."

Ren blinked, trying to process the words. His throat was dry, and his tongue felt heavy. "...Who are you?" he croaked, struggling to sit up. "Where's Kyouka—my sister?"

The woman tilted her head. "The one with the burns?" she asked, her tone casual, almost too calm. "I sent her and that Lan Xinyue lass to the hospital. They needed treatment. They were in no shape to stay."

Ren's chest tightened. "You sent them…?" He rubbed his face, forcing his breathing to steady. "How long has it been?"

"Not long," she said, standing up straight now. Her height was impressive—Ren could tell she was taller than him, even though he was sitting. "A few hours since that beast came tearing through."

Ren nodded slowly. The memory of the angel-like creature flashed in his mind—the light, the screams, the heat. His jaw clenched as the memories slowly turned to a creepy smile of an obsessed woman.

Then the woman squinted at him. "So," she said, resting her hand on her hip. "What's a man doing here, fighting something like that?"

Ren met her gaze, silent for a moment. Then he muttered, "It's none of your business."

She raised a brow, then chuckled—a low, amused sound. "Ha! What a feisty one. I like that." She leaned forward slightly, her grin wide. "Name's Astrid Haraldsdottir."

Ren froze. His eyes widened instantly. "What…?" he whispered. "Astrid Haraldsdottir? You're supposed to be dead."

Her grin widened, showing a hint of mischief. "So you've heard of me. Well, you're a well-informed man for someone wandering around in this mess."

Ren slowly stood up, though his legs trembled slightly. "You were named a terrorist. Your group—the old Traitors—were wiped out years ago. You died in the Liberator Battle."

Astrid's eyes glinted with faint amusement. "Ah, is that what the world's saying now?" She crossed her arms. "Dead, eh? Guess I should take it as a compliment. Means I was important enough for them to make a story out of."

Ren frowned. "If you're alive, then what are you doing here? And why should I trust you?" He took a small step back, his eyes scanning the small cabin-like space they were in. A faint scent of smoke and meat filled the air.

Astrid shrugged. "Trust me? Don't have to." She turned away, glancing out the half-broken window where city lights flickered in the distance. "I only kept you here because I was curious. Wanted to see who the hell that abomination was after. Didn't think it'd be a man."

She turned back to him with a half-smile. "You can go. We're not far from the city center."

Ren didn't move. His eyes narrowed. "What is going on here? What does that woman want? What do your people want? What's happening in this land?"

Astrid's expression softened slightly. Then she smiled, but there was a bitter edge to it. "What makes you think I know the answers to all that?"

"Because you were one of the reasons this all started," Ren said quietly. "You and your group—the traitors."

For the first time, Astrid's grin faded. Her voice dropped lower, steady but heavy. "That's not true," she said. "The traitors you know now are not the ones I fought beside. What they've become… that's not what I joined."

Ren said nothing. He simply watched her, curious now.

"I didn't join to burn cities or slaughter ability holders," she went on. "I joined because I wanted to make things fair. To give the powerless a chance. I've seen how this world treats those without abilities."

She paused, her gaze flicking to him. "That includes men. Men like you."

Then she caught herself and smirked faintly. "Well, not exactly like you. You're a bit… extraordinary, aren't you?"

Ren crossed his arms. "Is that what you're still doing here? Trying to make things fair?"

Astrid chuckled, her voice rough but honest. "No. That dream's long gone. The traitors I wanted to build something with—they're all dead. Lan Jia included."

Ren's head snapped up hearing Lan Jia's name.

Astrid nodded slowly, her expression distant. "Aye. Along with her vision. All that's left are scavengers using our name to justify chaos."

Her fingers traced one of the scars along her cheek absentmindedly. "I just don't want anyone dragging her memory through the mud anymore."

Ren stared at her for a long moment. Then, quietly, he said, "So that 'Faceless Woman'... she's your target."

Astrid's eyes lit up faintly. She nodded. "Aye. That monster wears the skin of what we built. She turned it into a cult. She's beyond reason."

Ren clenched his fists. "Then we have a common ground. She's a beast. Something none of us should even try to touch."

He exhaled slowly. "But nothing is immortal. Everything can die."

Astrid tilted her head, studying him with an amused grin. "You've got guts, I'll give you that. Don't often meet men who talk about slaying monsters like it's a chore."

Ren smirked faintly. "Well I got the will not the power.."

Astrid laughed again, this time louder, fuller. "I like you," she said. "You speak plain. You don't tremble when someone stronger's standing before you and you know your limits."

Her tone softened just a little. "Maybe that's why that woman's chasing you. You've got something valuable, don't you?"

Ren didn't answer. His expression gave away nothing.

She shrugged. "Fine. Keep your secrets. I've got mine too."

She leaned back against the table behind her, crossing her arms again. "So, what now, Ren? You going to go back to that burning city of yours? Pretend you didn't see hell open its mouth?"

Ren looked toward the cracked door. The air outside was faintly cold, and distant sirens echoed through the city. "Yeah," he said. "I got my family to return."

Ren met her gaze again. "You said we're not far from the city center. You'll stay around?"

She shrugged. "Aye. I've got things to do. But you and I—" She pointed a scarred finger at him. "We'll cross paths again. You want to kill that monster, so we will meet again."

Ren nodded slowly. "Then we stay in contact."

Her grin widened again. "Aye. That, we can do."

***

Amanda walked through the ruins of the dungeon market area, her boots crunching against broken glass and scattered debris. Smoke still curled up from the remains of vehicles and tents, filling the air with the heavy scent of burnt metal and blood. The battle had mostly died down. Gunfire had stopped. The army had won. But it wasn't without a cost.

Bodies—both soldiers and traitors—lay across the ground, some covered with torn flags or makeshift sheets. Medical teams rushed between them, shouting for stretchers and morphine.

Amanda stopped for a moment, her hands trembling slightly as she looked over the devastation. Her eyes fell on a soldier, no older than twenty, lying still beside a destroyed barricade.

She took a deep breath and muttered under her breath, "...Damn it."

Her heart was still pounding from the things she'd seen earlier—the shadow of Miranda, someone that left a black mark in her memory. But then she quickly shook her head, slapped her own cheek lightly, and straightened her posture.

No. Not now. Not when people were watching.

She adjusted her cap, her expression returning to that calm, controlled look everyone knew. The Amanda who gave orders and didn't hesitate.

She walked toward the holding area where some of the surviving traitors were being kept. A small group of soldiers stood guard there, rifles raised, tension still thick in the air.

As Amanda approached, one of the soldiers saluted. "Ma'am, we've secured the prisoners. They're restrained as per protocol."

Amanda nodded. "Show me."

They led her to a group of captured women kneeling on the ground. Each of them had their mouths forcibly strapped with reinforced gags, and their hands were sealed with thick restraints designed to block any kind of hand movement. Even their legs were tied together.

Amanda observed quietly, eyes sharp. "Good. No cyanide capsules this time?"

"Checked and removed, ma'am," the soldier said. "We didn't take any chances."

Amanda gave a slight nod of approval. "Excellent work. Take them to the central command post for interrogation. I want names, contacts, and who ordered this operation."

"Yes, ma'am!"

As they moved to obey, Amanda's gaze lingered on the captives. There was no remorse in their eyes—just fanatic hatred. She could feel it.

She muttered quietly to herself, "So the plan was to blow up the dungeon gate... cause a chain reaction and turn this entire city into a crater."

Her tone turned bitter. "You terrorists used to be after freedom Now you just want destruction. Nothing but chaos."

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head again. "Well... that doesn't surprise me much anymore."

Amanda turned to leave when her walkie-talkie suddenly crackled with static.

"—zzzt—Commander Amanda! Are you there? Come in! It's urgent!"

She immediately grabbed it. "This is Amanda. Speak."

There was heavy breathing on the other end, the sound of footsteps running. The voice was panicked. "Ma'am... you need to hear this immediately. The Prime Minister—"

Amanda frowned. "What about her?"

A pause. Too long. Too heavy.

Then the voice came again, trembling. "The Prime Minister has been assassinated!"

Amanda froze mid-step. The air around her seemed to stop. Even the background noise—the shouts, the groans, the distant hum of engines—felt like it vanished.

"...Repeat that," she said quietly, her tone dangerously calm.

"Confirmed report, ma'am!" the soldier on the other side almost shouted. "The Prime Minister was shot during an evacuation near Central Hall. Medical units confirmed no pulse on arrival. We— we're trying to secure the area now but—"

Amanda's hand clenched around the radio. "How the hell did they get that close to her?!"

"No idea, ma'am. There's chaos everywhere. Some say it was one of her own guard."

Her eyes widened slightly. "An inside job?"

"We don't know yet! We're still—"

The line cut off abruptly with a burst of static.

Amanda stood there in silence, staring at the device in her hand, as she muttered. "Everyone wants to see this land burns!"

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