The battle at the Night Market ended as abruptly as it had begun.
The silence that followed the shadow arm's strike was deafening. Only the crackle of cooling metal and the distant wail of sirens broke through it. The scent of ozone mixed with burning circuitry and fear.
Astra stood, heavily leaning against the cold wall of the hangar. The violet heat that had once surged through her veins slowly receded, leaving behind a biting, icy emptiness. The shadow arm had dissolved into the air, retreating back into her ordinary shadow beneath her feet. But something of it remained—tingling in her fingers, the sensation that part of her still lingered somewhere outside of reality.
She felt drained. Not physically—the body was stronger than ever. Emotionally. As if each time Tanatos emerged, he stole a piece of her humanity with him.
"You okay?" Kai approached cautiously, as if afraid she might ignite again. In his hand, he held a battered flask of nutrient mixture. "You look… empty."
Astra took the flask but didn't drink. She simply held the cold metal in her fingers.
"I saw them, Kai," she said quietly, staring into nothing. Her voice was hoarse. "When Tanatos struck… when the shadow became flesh… I saw a flash. My parents."
Kai froze. His mechanical eye clicked as it refocused on her face.
"You never talked about them."
"Because there was nothing to remember," Astra lowered her gaze to her hands. Thin violet lines still faintly glowed beneath her skin. "The System erased everything. Names, faces, even scent. But now… I saw my father's face. Clearly. He had the same brand as me—red mark 'Defect' right above his left eye."
Her voice tightened.
"They didn't just label us as garbage, Kai. They designed us that way. We're not random failures of the System. We're its planned sacrifice. We're raised in these ghettos, fed synthetic waste, forced to repair their machines… just so that one day they can come and harvest our Spark. Drain us dry."
She stopped. A lump formed in her throat.
Kai remained silent for a long moment, then asked softly:
"And what do you feel now?"
"Anger," she replied. "And… relief. At least now I know I'm not just a broken product. I'm a weapon they forged themselves. And failed to contain."
At that moment, Lira returned.
She moved quickly, decisively, carrying a heavy metal case labeled "Clean Nodes." Her coat was stained with oil and someone's blood, but her expression remained composed.
Astra looked at her.
"Lira… my father. Was he in the Architecture Division?"
Lira stopped.
For a brief moment, her hardened expression cracked. She looked away toward the flickering neon signs, now dull and pathetic in comparison to everything else.
"Yes," she finally said quietly. "Your father was one of the lead architects of the Omni-field. He helped build the system… and then realized what they were doing. He tried to stop the 'Clean Code' project. He helped many children escape from the labs. Including… Kai."
Kai snapped his head up.
"Me?" he asked, voice tense.
Lira nodded.
"You were one of the first successful prototypes. Your prosthetic isn't just a replacement limb—it's an experimental interface. Your father pulled you out of the lab one day before disposal. Then… he disappeared. I thought they erased him. But he left a trace. He left you, Astra. And me. That's how I found you in the ghettos. He left a message in old code: 'If she awakens—protect her. She is the last spark.'"
Astra closed her eyes.
Again, her father's face flickered in her mind—tired, but firm, with the red "Defect" brand above his eye.
"So we're all just failure marks on the System's body," she said bitterly. "They made us to break. And instead, we started breaking them."
Lira set the heavy case down.
"Now is not the time for memoirs. The Black Square protocol has been activated. That means the Corporation has switched to full anomaly eradication. No more Hunters, no more Cerberus units. They'll start erasing entire sectors until they find us. We need to leave the mid-levels. Now."
Astra pushed off the wall.
The icy emptiness inside her slowly shifted into cold, clear resolve.
"Then we move," she said. "I'm done hiding in shadows. Let them fear us."
Tanatos did not speak.
But Astra felt his deep, satisfied purr within her mind.
The brand of failure had just become a sentence of judgment.
And the judgment was not made by them.
It was made against the System itself.